Chapter 2I Married My Sister's Catfish

Without a shred of shame, and completely ignoring the furious red text screaming in front of my face, I stepped forward and wrapped my hand around Hogan’s arm.

“Hogan,” I murmured, looking up at him. “You actually came for me.”

Every muscle in his arm tensed beneath my touch. He swallowed hard, a low, raspy “Yeah” escaping his throat.

Seeing how nervous he was—his free hand twitching as if he didn’t know where to put it—I couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh.

Lindsay peeked out from behind our mother, her voice laced with a subtle, toxic sweetness. “Well, it looks like Norah really does have a soft spot for the underprivileged. You two actually look... perfect for each other.”

Her passive-aggressive “congratulations” were so blatant that even our parents shifted uncomfortably. Fearing she might provoke me into throwing a tantrum and ruining this convenient arrangement, my mother pulled Lindsay back by the arm.

Lindsay rolled her eyes, offering a lazy, insincere apology. “Sorry, Norah. I’m just so jealous that you’ve found your... perfect match.”

She put a sharp, deliberate emphasis on “your,” as if marking a boundary.

I knew exactly what she was doing. She was quietly gloating.

Like the floating commenters, she believed that even if she let this poor boy go for now, he would eventually discover the truth and come crawling back to her. She thought I was nothing but a thief destined to be caught.

My smile faded slightly, but my grip on Hogan’s arm tightened. Sensing the sudden shift in my mood, Hogan’s brows knit together. He took a subtle step forward, his broad shoulder cutting off my family’s view of me, shielding me completely.

Lindsay merely scoffed at his protective gesture. She turned her head toward the foyer, practically vibrating with anticipation for the real Lawrence heir to arrive.

When Charles Lawrence walked in, Lindsay looked ready to throw herself into his arms.

He was dressed in a bespoke Italian suit, a million-dollar watch gleaming on his wrist, looking every bit the ruthless corporate executive. But the floating text was already sighing in collective despair.

[Why is Lindsay being so warm to Charles? This is painful to watch!]

[Charles is just a parasite! He’s a trust-fund playboy who has nothing to do with the actual Lawrence conglomerate. Lindsay, turn around and look at our real male lead!]

[Yes! If she doesn’t fix this now, the evil sister is going to walk away with the prize!]

[Wait, look! Charles looks like he recognized Hogan! Oh my god, if Hogan’s identity is revealed now, Lindsay will definitely take him back!]

I looked up. Charles had walked into the room with an air of arrogant authority, but the moment his eyes fell on Hogan, his face went utterly pale. He took a step forward, his mouth opening to speak, but Hogan gave him a single, ice-cold shake of his head.

Charles froze mid-step, his boots practically glued to the floor.

Lindsay, whose eyes had been glued to Charles, flicked her gaze between the two men. “Charles? Do you... do you know Hogan?”

Terrified of saying the wrong thing under Hogan’s piercing gaze, Charles quickly stammered, “We... we’ve crossed paths once. Briefly.”

Lindsay’s expression curdled into instant disdain. “Oh, really? I suppose someone like Charles gets hounded by all sorts of people trying to climb the social ladder. You’re far too polite, Charles.”

Charles cleared his throat, sweating slightly. “Let’s just... let’s not talk about that. Aren’t we here to discuss the engagement?”

Lindsay’s sour mood instantly vanished, replaced by a triumphant grin. Our parents, too, beamed with pride.

“We were thinking of holding the engagement party on the eighteenth of next month,” my father said, eager to please. “We’ve already booked the Grand Ballroom at the Grand Regent. We’ll be inviting every major player in Chicago. We certainly won’t let either of our families lose face.”

Lindsay’s eyes-darted to me, where I stood silently in the corner with Hogan.

“Dad, Mom,” she said, her voice dripping with mock concern. “What about Norah’s engagement party? When is she having hers?”

My parents cast a dismissive, impatient glance at Hogan’s simple clothes.

“Norah only recently came back to us,” my mother said coldly. “She doesn’t have many social connections. A small dinner at that diner on the North Side should do. Three tables is more than enough. Norah, you don’t have an issue with that, do you?”

The floating comments mocked me relentlessly:

[Hahaha, the evil sister must be dying inside! A cheap diner engagement compared to a Grand Regent ballroom! Crushed!]

[And Hogan isn’t even defending her. He probably knows she doesn’t deserve anything better.]

I looked at Hogan. His head was slightly bowed, his expression unreadable.

“It’s fine,” I said softly, my voice clear in the quiet room. “As long as I’m with Hogan, I don’t care where we celebrate.”

Hogan’s head snapped up. He stared at me, his dark eyes wide with a quiet, arresting intensity. I offered him a small, reassuring smile and gently squeezed his hand.

He looked at me for a long moment, as if making a silent, monumental decision. Then, he turned to my parents.

“Mr. and Mrs. Morrison,” he said, his voice quiet but carrying an undeniable weight. “I will not let her be humiliated. I will give her the absolute best, within all my power.”

Lindsay covered her mouth, letting out a sharp, mocking giggle. “Mr. Lane is such a gentleman. Good luck with your unforgettable diner party, Norah. I truly hope it’s... memorable.”