"Mason, I don't want to have a wedding with you," she said.

Mason was peeling an apple, the fruit knife dancing between his long fingers, creating a vivid pattern on the apple. Hearing her words, he didn't even twitch an eyebrow. His expression remained calm as he focused on the apple.

Irene could only see what appeared to be a girl's face. But she didn't know exactly what he was carving, nor did she care.

"I know you want me to be a shield to protect Aurora, but I don't ...