Chapter 335

Isabella Langley was undeniably beautiful, with a petite and curvaceous figure that would normally make her Oliver Valrose's type.

But that was before he met Evelyn Roland.

Standing next to Evelyn, Isabella paled in comparison—like a firefly overshadowed by moonlight.

Evelyn possessed an innate, ethereal elegance that captivated attention even without makeup.

Oliver prided himself on being a connoisseur of women, surrounded by countless beauties.

Yet Evelyn struck him with a bone-deep awe he'd never experienced before.

A woman like her—this was the kind of unparalleled beauty he, Oliver Valrose, deserved to marry.

The memory of Evelyn's delicate profile made his lips curl into an infatuated smirk.

"Oliver, I've made inquiries. The Roland heiress is truly exceptional," Wendy Valrose patted her son's hand. "Propose tomorrow. A woman like her won't stay unattached for long."

A shadow flickered in Oliver's eyes.

"Do as your mother says," Oscar Valrose set down his teacup with finality. "Or get out of this house."

Marrying into the Roland family would elevate the Valrose name to new heights.

"Understood," Oliver gritted out, his gaze toward his father venomous.

Damn old man!

Using his credit cards as leverage?

How was he supposed to host tonight's pool party without funds? His reputation would be ruined.

"Old Ma will drive you tomorrow," Oscar said, his retreating footsteps like a death knell.

The door slammed shut behind him.

Oliver stared at his dwindling bank balance, knuckles cracking under the force of his clenched fists.

"Senile bastard!" he spat, fury boiling in his eyes.

His father's desperation to court the Rolands was embarrassingly transparent.

He knew exactly what was at stake—the Roland family's influence was something people would kill to access.

Even as a mere adopted daughter, Isabella was still a legitimate Roland.

Crack!

His phone shattered against the wall, the screen fracturing like a spiderweb.

Oliver laughed as he surveyed the wreckage.