Chapter 229 We’re About to Get Married—You Still Care About This?

• A peach tree stands in for the plum. No—Edward stands in for Edward’s corpse. Rage roared in Edward Raine’s chest, murder riding hot on his breath. The old Madam wasn’t just trying to kill him—she was plotting to take the whole Raine family for herself. If that man from the Zhou family took his place and fooled Dad, then with the old Madam and Dad both backing him, how hard would it be for that man to crush every other heir and become the head of the Raine family? The second that man became the head, the Raine family would fall straight into the old Madam’s hands. That man from the Zhou family? Just a puppet dangling from her fingers. And clearly, the old Madam had promised the Zhou family plenty—that’s the only way they’d send a stand-in to die. Once that man sat in the Raine family’s big chair, even as a puppet, what he’d get would blow past anything the small Zhou clan could muster. “History had Wu Zhou. Now you want to copy Wu Zhou, old Madam?” Edward ground his teeth, forcing the words out between them. “I won’t let you get your way. Even if you exile me to the ends of the earth, as long as I’m alive, I’ll crawl back if I have to.” His voice rang hard, murder cold and clear. For the first time, the will to live burned brighter than ever. Because he knew—if the old Madam really pulled this off, he didn’t care what the Raine family became. But Dad, Mom, Sylvia Graham, Mr. Murphy… everyone he loved? Their fate would be brutal. For them, he had to live. There was no reason to die. If he died, there’d be no witness left. One thing still nagged at him: why didn’t the old Madam just kill him? No witness would only help her plot, right? He drew a deep breath and gave a bitter smile. In experience and scheming, he was no match for her. Old wolves don’t just grow old—they grow sharp. Anything he couldn’t figure out, she’d mapped out long ago. And now wasn’t the time to puzzle it out. He had to think about staying alive—and getting back. The wind knifed in from outside, colder by the minute. It pricked his skin and went straight to the bone. Edward’s body, already curled tight, shrank in on itself even more. It was the only way to hang on to a scrap of warmth. The sea wind and surf grew louder and louder. … Haya. Sunshine in full blaze. It was scorching, but this was a tourist paradise; no heat could outburn the buzz of visitors. A top-tier team filmed everything, making the wedding shoot both fast and flawless. Every day, they hit the locations right on schedule and shot the scenes they needed. The wedding date was tight, so for some crowded spots, Edward had already planned the simplest, roughest solution—book the whole place. The shoot ran hot and heavy. After a few days together, Sylvia Graham slowly let her doubts go. Edward was still Edward. The only difference was that in every wedding photo, they worked hard to hide the bandage wrapped around the wound on his head. A small flaw, sure. Maybe one day, looking back, she’d laugh about it. That’s what Sylvia thought. On the fifth day, the whole wedding shoot finally wrapped. The actual shooting only took three days end to end, but those three blazing days left everyone wiped out. As a thank-you, Edward didn’t head back right away with Sylvia and the others. Instead, he booked out the hotel’s outdoor terrace restaurant and invited the whole crew for a big dinner. After three days of nonstop work, everyone had been wound tight; now they could kick back and let the evening loosen them up. Sylvia had no objections. They owed the team. At the banquet, she and Edward moved from table to table, raising glasses and thanking everyone. Edward drank wine; she stuck to soda. His mood was sky-high—glass after glass of red down the hatch—and soon his cheeks flushed and the buzz hit. The crew was just the same. The only ones still clear-headed were Sylvia—and Kunlun and Lone Wolf, who were on security. When the banquet broke up, Sylvia called Kunlun and Lone Wolf to help carry the drunk Edward back to his room. She went back to her own room alone. She replayed the last few days—the close calls, the laughs, the memories. Then she thought about the wedding on the fifteenth next month, and the excitement made it hard to sleep. Knock, knock. Someone rapped on the door. Sylvia frowned. It was past eleven at night. Her presidential suite took the whole floor. Privacy was tight, and regular guests weren’t allowed up. At this hour, the hotel wouldn’t be doing room service. So who was outside? “Syl… it’s me, Edward…” Edward’s slurred, stuttering voice came through the door. Sylvia let out a breath. She was about to speak and get up when— “Sylvia, open up. Tonight… I want to sleep with you.” The stammer and the drunk tone didn’t hide anything. Straight to the point. Her body jolted as she stood; panic flashed in her eyes. The words she had ready stuck in her throat. “Didn’t he promise to save the sweetest memory for our wedding night?” Sylvia frowned, her gaze deep and sharp. The first time Edward hinted at it, she’d said it outright. Later, he had his chance—like when Clara Miller told her to go to Edward’s room with him. But that time, Edward had been worried she hadn’t rested enough after the hospital. He just held her and let her sleep, all the way through, without making a move. Now… Knock, knock, knock! The pounding rattled the door like a drum. Rough. It scared her; she flinched, heart jumping. “Sylvia, come on. We’re about to get married—do you still care about this?” Edward’s voice shook her thoughts loose. The doubts she’d shoved down suddenly flooded back and spread like weeds. Faced with the hard pounding and Edward’s drunk shouts, Sylvia bit her lip and stayed quiet. She pulled out her phone and sent a message on WhatsApp to Kunlun. “Kunlun, Edward’s drunk. Can you come take him back to his room?” “Okay.” Seeing Kunlun’s reply, she relaxed a little. But as Edward kept thumping around outside, the questions in her head only grew darker and thicker. It didn’t take long. Kunlun’s voice sounded from the hall. “Master Edward, you’ve had too much. I’ll help you back to your room.” “You—who do you think you are? I don’t want your help. You’re just my house servant. Move.” “Master Edward, don’t make a scene this late. You’ll scare Sylvia.” Smack! The slap made Sylvia’s face go cold. Then Edward cursed outside the door. “Sylvia? That’s a name for you, a house servant?”