My coldhearted ex demands a remarriage

Chapter 90:

Leaning against the table, Asher inquired casually, “And the second matter?”

“Bowman Group, our primary ‘Agarwood’ sponsor, is hosting a banquet this weekend,” Soren continued. “Asher, would you care to make an appearance?”

Asher frowned, declining, “I’m committed to an international variety show this weekend and can’t return.”

A hint of embarrassment colored his next words as he looked at Carrie. “This opportunity might be more suitable for Katrina—I mean, Carrie. As a newcomer, networking at such events could be beneficial.”

Since discovering Carrie’s true identity, Asher had undergone a remarkable transformation—from icy skepticism to something resembling an ardent fan.

Soren turned to Carrie, his gaze inquisitive.

The weekend arrived, casting its spotlight on the Peninsula Hotel. The moment Carrie and Soren entered, they commanded the hall’s collective attention.

Soren stood resplendent in a white suit adorned with diamond-studded shoulder patches, resembling a fairy tale prince draped in ethereal starlight. His silver hair caught the ambient illumination, creating an almost magnetic presence.

Beside him, Carrie wore a magenta silk slip gown—a bold choice that lesser women might have struggled to carry. Yet on her, the vibrant hue transformed into a living canvas of elegance, like a rare exotic bloom against a pristine backdrop. Her natural beauty was breathtaking. Her eyes, luminous and deep, seemed to outshine even the crystal chandelier’s brilliant radiance.

Whispers rippled through the crowd: “Which prestigious family does she belong to? Such extraordinary beauty!”

Sensing Carrie’s momentary disorientation, Soren leaned closer.

“Relax,” he murmured reassuringly.

“Mm-hmm,” Carrie nodded, returning to the present. Her mind drifted to the invitation card, its design tugging at the edges of her memory—familiar, yet maddeningly elusive.noveldrama

Clifton Bowman approached—a man in his forties who defied typical middle-age stereotypes. Unlike many of his contemporaries, he radiated vitality, his presence more dynamic than most young men. His openness and generosity were immediately apparent.

As the host and owner of Bowman Group—the primary investor in “Agarwood”—he carried an unmistakable gravitas. A waiter trailed behind, bearing a tray of champagne glasses.

Clifton selected one for himself and offered another to Soren. “Good evening, Mr. Rodgers. Your presence is a rare honor. You’re not known for frequenting such events.”

His observation wasn’t mere pleasantry. Soren’s tendency to maintain a low profile was well-known. This discretion explained why Carrie, despite her years with Silver Elephant Media, had never previously encountered him, and why paparazzi rarely captured his image.

Soren accepted the champagne, taking a measured sip. “How could I decline your invitation, Mr. Bowman?”

Turning to Carrie, he introduced her. “This is the lead actress of our upcoming drama. I thought it would be an excellent opportunity for her to meet you.”

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