Chapter 19:

One True Threesome

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"...your fiancé...Sir Eric...has a male lover!"

A sharp, piercing "WHAT?!" exploded out of Annette, so loud that the secretary had to yank the phone away from her ear.

"What did you say?!" Annette finally snapped. Her tone was almost demanding an immediate answer from the person on the other end of the line.

"It's confirmed, milady." The secretary tried to lower her tone, "The one I told you about last time, the one who sent Sir Eric a packed breakfast and medicine, and this pest control specialist you asked me to hire to take care of the rats, they're the same! And I just saw them flirting in the stockroom!"

FLIRTING YOU SAY?!

Annette couldn't believe what she was hearing. Her grip on the phone tightened so much that her knuckles went white.

"That...fucker face!"

And then—snap!

Her temper finally burst out.

Without thinking, Annette slammed her thumb against the screen of her phone, hung up, and hurled it straight out the window. It flew in a perfect arc and vanished into the garden with a disturbingly violent crash.

Annette's chest heaved heavily from pure rage. But after a few minutes, she smoothed her hair with one hand, inhaled calmly, and composed herself as if absolutely nothing had happened.

"So he wasn't bluffing when he said he was gay. That fucking jerk actually has a male lover!"

But before we get to what Annette does next, let's have a quick rewind of what happened right before all of these current events unfolded.

After the disastrous pre-marriage fiasco, Annette immediately put Eric under surveillance. She secretly paid Eric's own company secretary a very generous amount just to act as her personal mole. All the secretary had to do was report everything her boss did: where he went, who he talked to, what he hid, and most especially, anyone who claimed to be romantically involved with Eric.

Then, just recently, the secretary reported that Eric received a packed breakfast and medicine from a mysterious man named Allen Flynn. The secretary didn't think twice and took down that name, then gave it to Annette.

"Allen Flynn?"

The name itself was unfamiliar to Annette. She knew every influential person, every businessman, and every potential rival in their social circle. But this person? He was a complete nobody, someone that is far beneath the level of someone like Eric and Annette themselves.

Which only made Annette more suspicious.

"Why would Eric let himself be acquainted with a man like him that is so...ordinary?"

Her gut was screaming at her that something about this man, Allen Flynn, wasn't right that she needed to uncover. And that was precisely why she had him investigated further.

"I want you to look into this Allen Flynn, who he is, and what kind of relationship he has with my future fiancé."

And that's exactly what Eric's company secretary did. She tried tracing Allen, digging deeper into his background and his work, but she couldn't find anything substantial. All she managed to uncover was that he worked for a local extermination agency as a pest control specialist, and nothing more.

And that's where Annette became even more frustrated, especially since she suspected that this Allen Flynn might have a deeper connection (possible flirting) with his future husband, Eric. She cannot let anyone, especially a third party, ruin all his carefully laid plans for revenge against the Vale family.

That's when Annette had a brilliant idea to create a scene to prove the theory about Allen Flynn. She ordered Eric's company secretary to put pest rats in the stock room to destroy the documents. Then she had her book the exterminator agency and specifically requested Allen Flynn, just to see if it would confirm her theory.

And now, seeing the secretary's latest panicked report?

It really did confirm her worst fear.

"So he's the guy that my bastard fiancé was talking about. So he's the mistress!"

Annette forced herself not to explode again, because most of the time, anger never helped her come up with good plans—if anything, it just made her sloppy.

What did her therapist always say?

"Clear skies...clear skies..." Annette whispered to herself as she raised her hands in a mock-meditative pose. After a few steady breaths that calmed her, she turned back to her "wall of revenge" and scanned the web of photos, notes, and red strings for a solution.

"It won't help me if I confront Eric about his...man," she muttered. "I need to keep my image sweet and harmless. So if I can't do anything to break up those lovebirds myself... then maybe someone else can."

Then she plucked a pin from the corkboard and drove it straight into the picture of Eric's father...

Robert Vale.

"I'll let his father deal with them," she said coldly. "But for that to happen, I need solid proof. He never believes anything unless he sees it with his own eyes. So... I'll give him evidence."

A slow, unsettling smile spread across Annette's face. Then she straightened her posture, clasped her hands, and unleashed the loudest villainous laugh her small body could manage. Her laugh swelled into a dramatic, over-the-top cackle that echoed through her room and loud enough for the servants downstairs to hear—right up until she choked on her own saliva.

"—Akhh—ACK—! Ugh! Damn it!"

She wiped her lips, went silent, and sniffled.

Meanwhile, Eric stood in the middle of his living room, holding a script that had been sent to him via email by the acting studio he had previously enrolled in. He was rehearsing for the upcoming "Play for a Cause," which would feature Snow White. And, at long last, he'd been cast in his first significant role—the Prince.

However, the Prince in this play had barely any lines.

But that didn't matter to Eric anymore. He still treated the role as if it were meant for him. In fact, he treated this role as if he were starring on Broadway. So if he didn't practice now, he feared he'd become the joke of the entire rehearsal later, and he refused to let that happen.

Eric took a deep, long, serious breath. Then, he placed his right hand over his chest and declared with the intensity of a man delivering a tragic monologue:

"My princess!"

And that was the only line on the entire script in which he had to deliver. The rest were just actions and appearances.

"Hmm..." Eric paused, wondering if the emotion he'd poured into that one line still wasn't enough. "It feels like it's missing emphasis...again."

So he repeated that one single line.

Again...

And again.

And for each try, he experimented with different dramatic styles. First, he tried using a trembling, heartbreaking voice. Then he also tried an overly heroic stance; the last one was his favorite, where he stretched his arm toward the ceiling as if Snow White were mysteriously floating somewhere above his head in slow motion.

"Myyy...priiincesssss....!!!!"

And he looked genuinely proud whenever he tried each version himself.

The only thing Eric hadn't practiced yet was the scene where he kissed Snow White.

"Okay, Eric, let's do this!" he told himself, his determination and misplaced, overflowing confidence.

Eric moved to the sofa and imagined Snow White lying there gracefully across the cushions. Then, he took a deep breath and leaned forward in slow motion. But he suddenly stopped mid-kiss because he was bothered by a very crucial question.

"Wait...how should I kiss?" he curiously asked himself. That's when he puckered his lips experimentally, then he stuck his tongue out a little. Then he made a face like he'd just disgusted himself.

"No, no... that's not right. You don't even need a tongue when you kiss, right?" Eric said unsurely because clearly, he had no idea what he was doing, especially when romance was not his specialty.

And while he was in the middle of pondering the mechanics of kissing, his cellphone, sitting right beside him on the sofa, suddenly rang. When he glanced at it, he saw Allen's username, Tooth Fairy.

"Huh? Allen?"

He quickly grabbed his phone and answered.

"Hello?"

"Hi," Allen greeted casually. "Are you busy?"

"Ugh..." Eric hesitated, wondering if what he'd been doing counted as busy. "No, not really. I was just practicing for a play."

"Play?" Allen asked, sounding mildly curious.

"Yeah. My old acting studio invited me to play the Prince for a Play for a Cause event. It's nothing major, really. Hehe..."

"Oh, I didn't know you were acting", Allen said. "Nice."

Eric froze.

It was the first time anyone other than his acting teacher had ever told him nice words, and it hit him straight in the chest, like someone had gently pressed a warm compress over his heart. It was a strange, fluttery warmth, and it made him feel the eagerness to talk more about it.

"Well...honestly, I'm not that good at acting," Eric admitted as he shyly rubbed the back of his neck. "But I really love plays and Broadway shows. I love watching stage dramas and musicals. Other people find them boring, sure...but not me."

"Then...that works out," Allen said while holding two Broadway tickets in his free hand. "My coworker gave me tickets to a show, and I was thinking of asking you out."

"Wait—wait—" Eric immediately pulled up his phone calendar because he knew exactly what was happening today: the premiere of one of his most anticipated Broadway shows, Starlight on the Fire Escape. He'd wanted to buy a ticket for months, but work had kept him too busy.

"Shit!" he blurted into the phone. "Is that Starlight on the Fire Escape ticket?!"

Allen blinked. He was genuinely surprised that Eric guessed it so fast. "You know it?"

"Oh my god, of course I know it! Wait—what time is it?!"

Allen checked his watch. "Uh... 6:30 p.m."

"There's still time!" Eric quickly stood up, "I'll get dressed right now. Wait for me in Carmel Town, okay?"

"Hold on..." Allen cut in. "So... it's a date?"

"Date?" Eric blinked. Clearly, his brain was buffering. "As in...date?"

"Yes," Allen said, "Just think of this as part of your training. So, are you okay with that?"

Eric definitely hadn't processed the date part yet, but the idea of seeing the play completely overrode everything else in his head.

"Yes, okay! Let's have a date!"

"Alright then," Allen replied, sounding amused. "See you in Carmel Town at 7:30 p.m. The show starts at 8."

"Okay, see ya. Bye!"

And with that, the call abruptly ended.

Allen stared at his phone for a moment, then he shifted his gaze to the two Broadway tickets in his hand.

"Well...he did confirm it's a date," he murmured. Then he let out a long, tired sigh.

“Teaching him the basics of dating is going to be a headache,” he said, already bracing himself for whatever this 'date' was about to become.