Chapter 50

The bottle spun and landed on Nathaniel first, electrifying the air with anticipation.

Penelope smirked at him, her crimson lips curling with mischief.

"Mr. Falcon, Truth for you. Tell us—have you and Mrs. Falcon ever... consummated your marriage?"

Every heir at the table except Alexander—who'd just returned from overseas—knew Harrison was Mrs. Falcon. Penelope's question was a calculated jab, meant to humiliate Nathaniel and expose the state of his marriage.

The wealthy socialites erupted into whistles, hungry for scandal.

Penelope shot Harrison a sly glance before turning back to Nathaniel. "Three years of marriage, and you've never touched your wife? Just how much do you despise her?"

Isabella seized the moment, tossing her hair with a haughty laugh. "I told Nathaniel not to lay a finger on Harrison. Of course he hasn't."

Their synchronized attack was deliberate, designed to strip Harrison bare in front of everyone.

Sebastian and the others drummed the table. "Come on, Nate! No lying—Truth or Dare!"

Gabrielle's fingers twitched, her glare murderous. Harrison calmly pressed a hand to her wrist.

"They're doing this on purpose," Gabrielle hissed.

Harrison smiled bitterly. "It's true. He's never touched me. Let them laugh. I'm used to it."

The truth stung, but it was reality. Whether Isabella had forbidden it or not, Nathaniel had never wanted her.

Harrison's gaze flicked to Nathaniel at the head of the table.

Dressed in all black, sleeves rolled to reveal corded forearms, he looked every inch the ruthless tycoon. When his icy eyes met hers, she couldn't read him.

Isabella leaned in, nails digging into his arm. "Tell them, Nathaniel. Say you've never touched Harrison!"

Under the weight of the room's anticipation, Nathaniel's voice cut like winter. "I'll take the penalty."

He grabbed the whiskey bottle and downed three shots in quick succession.

Isabella froze. Penelope's smirk vanished.

Gabrielle arched a brow, unable to resist. "Seems your orders don't hold much weight, Isabella."

The heiress flushed scarlet.

Harrison studied Nathaniel, pulse quickening. He could've answered. He chose not to. Why?

Sebastian hastily spun the bottle again. "Next round!"

This time, it landed on Harrison—with the neck pointing straight at Penelope.

Harrison's eyes sparkled with mischief. After their little stunt, it was her turn to play.

Penelope lifted her chin. "Well, Harrison? What do you want me to do?"

Harrison smiled sweetly. "Dare. Kiss one of these gentlemen—passionately—for three full minutes."

The room erupted.

Penelope's pride was legendary. There was only one man here who could make her comply.

And Harrison was about to watch her squirm.