Misunderstanding

Janet Winget POV

“Uncle?”

Did I hear that right? Did Dalton just call the man who kissed me—Uncle?

“Yes, my dear little nephew,” the man replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm—impossible to miss.

The party had already been stunned into silence, but now, the air felt even heavier, as if no one dared to breathe.

There was something about this man, something I couldn't quite pinpoint.

Terrifying.

Dalton grabbed my hand. “How are you, Uncle?”

A shiver ran through me. ‘Dalton never touches me—at least not willingly.’

And yet, here he was, holding my hand, fingers tightening like he was anchoring himself to reality. This was the same Dalton who had smiled just moments ago when my parents announced his engagement to Lia—completely forgetting about me.

The same Dalton who had acted as if nothing had happened when this mysterious uncle of his had stolen a kiss from me. Commendable.

I never even knew Dalton had an uncle.

“You’re holding the wrong hand, Dalton,” the man said, his voice smooth but calculated. “Your fiancée is on stage. Miss Lia. You should be holding her hand.”

Shock punched through me. Again?

How much more was this man going to throw at me?

First, the kiss. Then, announcing—on my behalf—that I had called off my engagement with Dalton.

Now this.

Dalton’s grip on my hand tightened, his knuckles going white. I tried not to wince.

“I think you’re misunderstanding, Uncle,” Dalton said stiffly. “It’s Janet I’m engaged to. We’ll be making it official soon. Her parents must have mixed up the names.”

I blinked. What?

Mixed up the names? Seriously?

I wanted to believe that. I really did. But I wasn’t that dumb.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Uncle,” Dalton said, his voice firm as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders. His fingers dug into my skin—hard. Too hard.

I tensed.

The man chuckled. “Then I suppose I should apologize for stealing your fiancée,” he said, completely unfazed. “But I’m already in love with Miss Janet. And I doubt my own nephew would fight his uncle over a woman.”

Wow.

The audacity. Did he really just say that—like it was the most casual thing in the world? My pulse surged, fear intensifying.

There was nothing I could think of in this moment.

“I have to say the same, Uncle.” Dalton straightened, his voice smooth. “Janet is my fiancée. She’s been in love with me since we were kids—always wanted me. Maybe you’re confused.”

How easily he said that. But it was true. It had always been one-sided. Always just me.

And yet, the way he said it—it wasn’t just a correction. He wanted to flaunt it. Wanted to make it clear that I was the one clinging to him. Which, in some ways, was true.

“Confusion?” The man scoffed. “Dalton, you know me. I, Lucian Ashford, don’t make mistakes.”

My breath hitched. My eyes widened.

Lucian Ashford?

I had heard that name before. Somewhere. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember.

Maybe jail had clouded my memories, but one thing was clear—this man was dangerous, and things were about to get wild.

Still, why was Dalton pretending? Holding on to me like this? Wasn't he the same man who never spared me a second thought?

And how did they have different surnames if they were uncle and nephew?

“Dalton—”

A sweet voice cut through the tension. I knew that voice.

Lia.

She stepped down from the stage, hurrying toward us, her delicate fingers curling around Dalton’s forearm.

It stung.

Dalton was holding me, but she was holding him. And now, I knew—she was the one in his heart.

I had always known. But today, I had to accept it.

Dalton didn’t pull away. He didn’t even flinch.

I swallowed the bitter taste rising in my throat. Of course. This was how it had always been. I was just a habit—something he never wanted but never quite let go of. But Lia… she was his choice.

She lifted her gaze to me, her expression unreadable. “Janet,” she said, her voice light, almost pitying. “You’re here.”

Like I was some lost soul who had wandered into the wrong place.

As if she hadn’t seen me before. She had been looking down on me since the moment she arrived with our parents, ever since her engagement to my fiancé was announced.

Lucian let out a low chuckle, watching the exchange with sharp, assessing eyes. “Interesting.” He turned to Dalton, his lips curving into a smirk. “Seems like you have quite the dilemma, nephew.”

Dalton’s grip on me tightened more—just a fraction—but enough for me to feel it. A silent message.

But I was done trying to read between the lines.

I yanked my arm free. “There’s no dilemma,” I said, forcing steel into my voice. “Dalton and I—” My throat clenched. I shook my head. “It’s not what you think.”

Lia’s lips curled slightly, like she already knew. Like she had always known.

Lucian exhaled, clearly entertained. “Well, that makes things easier.” His gaze flicked to me, pinning me in place. “Janet, was it?” He tilted his head, studying me like I was a puzzle he was about to take apart. “Tell me… do you remember me?”

The way he said it sent a chill crawling up my spine.

I had heard his name before. I knew I had. But no matter how hard I tried to grasp the memory, it stayed just out of reach.

And somehow, I knew—that was a problem.

Why was he asking me now if I knew him? Hadn’t he already announced that I called off my engagement with Dalton because of him?

“Uncle, if she doesn’t remember you, then why would she have broken off the engagement for you?” Lia spoke softly, her tone almost innocent. “It was Dalton who didn’t want to be engaged to my sister, not the other way around.”

Lucian’s gaze flicked to Dalton, then to me. “But isn’t Dalton holding her now?” He paused, letting the question linger before his expression darkened. “And did I give you permission to call me ‘Uncle’?” His voice was sharp, his eyes narrowing as he turned back to Lia.

“I’m sorry,” she apologised, shivering as she tried to hide behind Dalton, who looked tense.

Then, he smirked. “Janet is scared. That’s why I asked. Otherwise, how could she possibly forget me—when just yesterday, I was holding her in my arms… in my bed?”