Page 19 of Obsessing Over His Favorite
The words echoed loudly over the music and chatter, making Emily freeze in place. But before she could refuse, Charlotte had already walked her toward the stage, signaling the emcee.
The man caught the cue and turned back to the crowd.
“And to honor Mr. Cantrell for his generous contributions to charity,” the announcer said, voice booming through the speakers, “we now invite Ms. Emily Crawford to say a few words.”
The chatter died down, heads turned, and the room gradually fell into complete silence.
Emily’s fingers tightened around the mic as she stood in the center of the stage, a few hundred faces staring up at her.
Her heart raced.
‘I don’t even know what drink he likes. How the hell am I supposed to give a speech praising him?’
She took a shaky breath and forced herself to speak.
“Mr. Cantrell is… obviously a very generous man,” she began, her voice quiet and slightly shaky.
All eyes remained fixed on her.
She continued, grasping for words she didn’t have. “He has donated… to many good causes… and… in large amounts… that have helped a lot of people.”
Her heart thudded against her ribs. She swallowed hard, trying to remember anything else, anything that could fill the silence.
“He runs a very good business… which he also uses to support social causes,” she said, now repeating fragments she’d overheard from the party. “He takes care of his family, his employees, and everyone who works under him.”
She was rambling now. Her voice sounded robotic, as if she were reading off a poorly written script.
“He’s… a very nice man. It’s not easy to manage such a large company at a young age, and yet he does it so well. And to be donating so generously before even turning thirty... it's inspiring.”
She wrapped it up quickly. “So let’s all give him a round of applause and show him some encouragement.”
Emily clapped first—hard and fast—just to escape the suffocating silence.
The crowd followed, clapping politely.
Emily didn’t wait another second. She handed the mic back and rushed off the stage, her heels clicking fast against the wooden steps.
While Emily was still on stage, a pair of eyes burned into her with an intensity that nearly singed her skin. Lucas’s brows had furrowed into a tight, disbelieving line.
He’d gone still the moment she began speaking. She was holding the mic like she didn’t know what to do with it. That was nothing like the Emily he used to know. Her words held no warmth, no pride. Not even a flicker of the affection she used to shower him with so freely.
In the past five years, Emily had been the most talkative when it came to him. She would go on and on about him with stars in her eyes to anyone who would listen—her friends, strangers, even cab drivers.
She’d introduce him to people like she’d just won the lottery and wanted the whole world to know. Lucas was used to her praising him so much that, when she was asked to speak, he’d actually sighed, bracing for a long-winded speech. The kind that would make him shake his head and pull her off the stage just to get her to stop.
But that didn’t happen.
She hadn’t even lasted two minutes.
Her words were short, flat, mechanical. No hint of emotion, no sign that she cared, rushing through surface-level comments like a stranger, not a woman in love. His grip on the whiskey glass tightened, the ice inside clinking against the crystal as he held back his disbelief.
Emily came down the stairs, her shoulders relaxing with obvious relief. She pasted a polite smile on her face as she walked back into the crowd.
Charlotte, who had been standing nearby, caught Lucas’s arm and walked over to her.
“You spoke very well on stage, Emily. Good job,” Charlotte said warmly.
“Thank you, Mrs. Cantrell.” Emily returned her smile, ever so poised.
