Chapter 301: How To Ruin Him

Mary cleared her throat, unwilling to let the confrontation drag on any longer.

She had no desire to watch her son lose face any further, especially when the occasion was supposed to celebrate her grandson.

"Today is Alexander’s special day," she said with a gentle smile, deliberately steering the conversation in another direction. "Let’s not forget who the real star of this celebration is."

With that, she stepped forward and took Alexander from the nanny’s arms.

The little boy immediately caught sight of the elaborate cake waiting nearby, and his eyes lit up with excitement. He obediently stayed in his grandma’s arms.

Following Mary’s signal, the event organizers wheeled the cake toward the center of the stage. Designed to resemble a miniature spaceship, it featured intricate silver details, tiny planetary decorations, and a rocket-shaped candle standing proudly on top.

Alexander’s arms and legs began to flail excitedly. He leaned toward the cake, his little fingers opening and closing as though he could hardly wait to get his hands on it.

A ripple of laughter passed through the guests.

"Look at that! Our little birthday boy seems to love his cake already!" the emcee announced cheerfully, his lively voice cutting through the lingering tension.

One by one, the guests turned their attention to Alexander. Even those who had been eagerly following the proposal could hardly resist smiling at the sight of the delighted child.

"May I invite the birthday boy’s father and mother to join him beside the cake?" the emcee continued.

Julian and Morgan exchanged glances before stepping down from the stage. They had no reason to remain at the stage when the next segment was meant for Alexander and his parents.

Kristoff tucked the ring box away and reached for his son.

Alexander stretched both arms toward his father, his face breaking into an eager grin.

Kristoff’s expression softened instantly.

Whatever turmoil had been churning inside him moments earlier, the sight of his son reaching for him was enough to draw his attention away from the watching crowd.

He took Alexander into his arms, supporting the little boy against his chest.

Soon, the familiar strains of the birthday song filled the ballroom.

Guests joined in, their voices blending beneath the warm glow of the chandeliers as Alexander bounced excitedly in his father’s arms.

When the song ended, Kristoff bent his knees and lowered himself until Alexander’s face was level with the cake.

"Come on, Alex," he murmured encouragingly. "Blow out your candle."

The little boy stared at the flickering flame atop the rocket-shaped candle, his lips parting as he attempted to blow.

At that very moment, the flame went out.

A shower of star-shaped confetti descended from the ceiling, scattering across the ballroom and drifting over the guests like a miniature meteor shower.

Children squealed with delight, stretching their hands toward the falling stars. Some jumped in place, while others scrambled to catch the glittering pieces before they reached the floor.

Laughter and applause swept through the ballroom, washing away the last traces of awkwardness left by the interrupted proposal.

For a moment, the celebration belonged entirely to Alexander.

Yet beneath the cheerful music and falling confetti, one thing remained unresolved.

The ring was still in Kristoff’s possession.

And Isobel had yet to give him an answer.

...

While the guests in the ballroom had returned their attention to Alexander’s birthday celebration, Charlotte remained seated on the loveseat in Marco’s penthouse, unable to shake off the humiliation of what she had just witnessed.

Her emotions were in turmoil. Anger, hurt, and disbelief twisted her features, leaving her unable to conceal the bitterness burning inside her.

"How dare he?" she spat, her voice trembling with rage.

"How could he propose to her? It hasn’t even been a year since he proposed to me, and now he’s offering another woman the same commitment he once promised me?"

The image of Kristoff kneeling before Isobel kept replaying in her mind. The ring box. The expectant crowd. The way he had looked at Isobel.

He was the same man who had once sworn his devotion to her.

Had all those promises meant so little to him?

Charlotte wanted nothing more than to sweep the objects off the coffee table and smash something against the wall.

She needed an outlet for the fury threatening to consume her. But this was Marco’s penthouse, not her own home. She had no right to destroy someone else’s property just because her pride had been wounded.

Instead, she curled her hands into fists, digging her fingernails into her palms until the sharp sting gave her something else to focus on.

"So, Kristoff Dalton is that fickle after all."

Marco Pollus leaned back against the sofa, a mocking smirk playing on his lips.

"I suppose all that talk about his loyalty was nothing more than an act."

"Of course it wasn’t!" Charlotte snapped, whipping her head toward him. "Kristoff was devoted to me. He was loyal to me until that orphan came along and ruined everything!"

The last words came out almost as a sob.

Tears welled in her eyes before spilling down her cheeks. She quickly tried to wipe them away, but the more she thought about Kristoff’s proposal, the harder it became to contain her emotions.

"There, there. Don’t cry." Marco moved closer and drew her into his arms, allowing her to bury her face against his shoulder. "I’m here for you, Charlotte. You don’t have to pretend to be strong around me. If you need to cry, then go ahead. I’ll listen."

For a moment, Charlotte allowed herself to lean on him.

"Even now, I still can’t believe he abandoned me," she whispered, her voice thick with tears. "I keep thinking there must be some explanation. That perhaps he’ll come to his senses and realize what he’s done."

Her fingers clutched the fabric of Marco’s shirt.

"But he really did abandon me."

Marco gently stroked her hair, murmuring words of comfort as she cried against him.

Yet beneath his sympathetic expression, a cold glint flickered in his eyes.

He had little interest in nursing Charlotte’s broken heart. What mattered to him was the anger festering beneath her tears—and how easily it could be turned against Kristoff.

Kristoff Dalton had just handed him another opportunity to damage his reputation.

A man who had once been praised for his devotion had now publicly proposed to another woman less than a year after asking Charlotte to marry him.

To the right audience, the story could be twisted into one of fickleness, betrayal, and broken promises.

And with Charlotte herself still reeling from the humiliation, Marco wouldn’t even have to invent a victim.

All he had to do was let her pain speak for itself.

As he held her close, the corners of his lips lifted almost imperceptibly.

Kristoff Dalton, soon, you’ll be bullied by the Netizens.