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The women held their breath, waiting for the emcee to reveal the result.
“Number 177! Congrattions!”
The emcee scanned the crowd. “Which youngdy holds ticket number 177?”
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Everyone pulled out their admission stubs,paring with each other. None of the numbers matched.
So who was 177?
Wendy nced at her own ticket. To her shock, the number was 177. Could it really be this much of a coincidence?
She stayed quiet, nning to tuck the stub away–she had no intention of dancing. But the sharp eyes of the woman beside her caught the number.
“She’s 177!”
Gasps spread, and soon all eyes turned to Wendy. Several women nearby confirmed it was indeed her number.
Jealousy flickered in their gazes.
“177 is her? No way, what are the odds?”
The emcee, having received confirmation, gestured toward Wendy. “Would the youngdy holding ticket 177 please remain at the center of the floor. Everyone else, step back.”
The crowd shifted away, leaving Wendy standing alone under the lights, just as she had when she first entered.
Tonya and Sydney fumed.
“She’s way too lucky!” Tonya hissed. “How could it just happen to be her? Something’s fishy.”
The suspicion quickly spread among the other women. Many began whispering that Benjamin’s choice must have been rigged, that the mysterious girl was already preselected.
But Wendy remained frozen in ce as Benjamin descended from the stage. He crossed the ballroom with steady strides, stopping in front of her.
“Wendy, dance the first song with me.”
He extended his hand with perfect grace.
“I don’t want to dance,” Wendy muttered, shrinking back. “There are plenty of other girls. Ask one of them.”
“But I only want to dance with you.”
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His words, as always, were infuriatingly direct. Wendy rolled her eyes in exasperation, but Benjamin only grew more cheerful.
Before she could protest further, he caught her hand, and as the orchestra struck up the first notes of a waltz, he led her onto the floor.
The first dance of the night had begun.
From the sidelines, Jillian leaned toward Caitlin, whispering, “How did it end up being Wendy? Isn’t that a little too convenient?<b>” </b>
Caitlin smirked and murmured something in her ear. Jillian’s eyes widened in realization. “Ohhh… so the lottery box was rigged. Every ticket in there said 177, didn’t it? That’s brilliant!”
Indeed, no matter how Benjamin drew, Wendy would always be the one chosen.
Watching the pair spin across the floor, Jillian sighed. “You know, they actually look really good together.”
“Perfectly matched,” Caitlin agreed softly. “The ultimate bickering couple.”
Seeing her friend in Benjamin’s arms filled her with relief. For once, Wendy had stumbled into a fairy tale.
When the song ended, Benjamin didn’t let go. He pulled Wendy from the dance floor.
“Come on. I’ll introduce you to my parents.”
“What? No!” Wendy panicked, tugging against his grip. “I’m not going!”
But Benjamin’s hand only tightened.
Spotting Caitlin nearby, Wendy seized her hand in desperation. “Caitlin, help me!”
“Rx,” Caitlin said with augh. “He’s not going to sell you.” With Sebastian at her side, she stepped onto the floor for the next round of waltz, leaving Wendy to her fate.
Benjamin guided Wendy to his parents. “Mom, Dad, this is Wendy.”
Mr. Jones and Mrs. Jones both turned curious eyes toward her. Mrs. Jones smiled warmly and gestured for her to sit nearby. Up close, she found Wendy’s round, healthy beauty surprisingly appealing.
“How old are you, Wendy?” Mrs. Jones asked.
“Twenty–four.”
“Good age. And what do you do?”
“I… work in a coffee shop.”
At that, Mrs. Jones’s brows rose slightly. She had assumed Wendy was some well–bred heiress. A barista was not what she had expected. Though inwardly disappointed, she maintained her polite smile, exchanged a few pleasantries, and then excused them to enjoy the party.
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Benjamin whisked Wendy back to the floor. He bent close, murmuring in her ear, “My mom likes you.”
“Impossible,” Wendy muttered under her breath. Her instincts screamed otherwise–but that suited her fine. The less pressure, the better. It wasn’t like she nned to marry Benjamin anyway.
“Why not?” Benjamin grinned, his gaze flicking down her figure with obvious satisfaction. “You look plump and healthy, like you’d have strong children. Parents love that.”
“I don’t want to have kids with you!” she snapped, rolling her eyes.
Benjamin pressed her closer, his hand firm at her waist. He lowered his head until their lips nearly brushed. “What did you just say? Say it again.”
From the outside, it looked like he was about to kiss her. Wendy’s face went scarlet, and she quickly turned away, refusing to argue further.
Throughout the ball, Benjamin danced with no one else. Song after song, it was always Wendy in his arms. The other women grew restless, realizing he wasn’t even looking at them.
When the final waltz ended, Benjamin had a special surprise prepared—a finale that, unbeknownst to most, was aimed directly at the Smith family.
The emcee returned to the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for our grand prize giveaway. Tonight, three lucky guests will receive extraordinary gifts, courtesy of the Jones family. Benjamin, if you would do the
honors.”
Thunderous apuse followed Benjamin back onto the stage. He reached into the lottery box and drew the first winner.
“Congrattions to Miss Number 72! Pleasee up!”
A girl shrieked in delight and hurried forward. Benjamin presented her with a jewel–studded ne worth over a million, sending murmurs of envy rippling through the hall.
Then came the second draw.
“Congrattions to Miss Number 152!”
The lucky girl nearly fainted when she was awarded a custom haute couture gown paired with a limited- edition designer handbag. She had to be helped offstage, still swooning with joy.
Finally, the third and final draw–the biggest prize of the night. The crowd buzzed with anticipation.
Who would it be?
The emcee opened the slip and announced, “And tonight’sst lucky number is… 19! Who holds number 19?”
Tonya’s breath caught. She looked at her ticket and saw the number. It was her.
Sydney shrieked, clutching her arm. “Tonya, it’s you! You’re 19! You won!”
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Pushed forward by her friend, Tonya stumbled toward the stage, her head spinning. She hadn’t dared dream she’d be chosen.
Heart pounding with excitement, she mounted the stage, eager to see what prize awaited her.