My Coldhearted Ex demands a Remarriage

Now, with minimal effort, she exuded a radiant elegance—like a pearl that had been meticulously polished to reveal its true brilliance.

Elijah’s arm encircled her waist, and together they embodied the picture of perfection—a seamless duo that looked as if they had stepped straight out of a luxury magazine’s glossy pages.

Even those who had once scorned her modest upbringing couldn’t deny the striking pair they made.

Elijah, noticing how her dress perfectly complemented his suit, leaned in and murmured, “This dress looks extraordinary.”

Recognizing the need for performance, Elizabeth responded with a sweet, calculated smile, her eyes shining with what appeared to be genuine affection.

The crowd erupted in lighthearted banter.

“Ah, Mr.

and Mrs.

James are as inseparable as newlyweds! It’s almost nauseatingly adorable,” someone teased with a laugh.

Wren beamed, clearly pleased by the attention.

“Of course! Our Elizabeth is a treasure.

Elijah struck gold marrying her.”

Not far away, Scarlet and Freya stood in icy silence, their expressions tight with displeasure.

Freya leaned toward Scarlet, her voice low and venomous.

“Aunt Scarlet, you’ve worked tirelessly for the family, yet Wren doesn’t spare you a word of gratitude.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth bats her lashes and gets showered with praise.”

Scarlet’s lips thinned, though she forced a serene expression.

“I only do what’s expected.

Recognition doesn’t matter to me,” she said, though her tone carried an unmistakable edge.

Freya’s eyes gleamed with malice.

“Still, Auntie, if Elizabeth keeps stealing the spotlight, people might start treating her as the lady of the house.”

Scarlet let out a quiet, scornful scoff.

“The lady of the house? That’s a crown she’ll never wear.

Mark my words—her days as Elijah’s wife are numbered.”

Freya smirked and turned her attention back to Wren, eager to sow further discord.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth clasped Wren’s hands warmly, her voice soft and sincere.

“Wren, I wish you happiness and good health for many years to come.”

Freya’s sharp eyes zeroed in on Elizabeth’s empty hands.

“Elizabeth,” she called out, feigning surprise, “don’t tell me you didn’t bring Wren a gift?”

The surrounding guests turned their attention to Elizabeth, their gazes a mixture of disdain and poorly concealed delight at the possibility of a faux pas.

After all, someone from such humble beginnings couldn’t possibly understand the intricacies of proper social etiquette, could they?