Chapter 1643 - 1594: She Wants Marcus Quinn’s Reputation Ruined in the Imperial City

The Shaw family’s engagement banquet is in the evening. Worried the two of them would be running around like headless chickens, Yeats Howard came over in the morning. Turned out Tara was fine—she was pretty enough that anything looked good on her—while Marcus Quinn only had two tracksuits to his name. The tailored suit he’d ordered would take at least half a month to be ready, so it definitely wouldn’t make it in time for this engagement banquet.

"I’ll take you to buy something off the rack!" Yeats Howard said through gritted teeth.

"No rush, we’ll go after lunch." Marcus checked the time. He’d had a bit too much to drink last night, but his biological clock still woke him up early. He got up to make congee, did breakfast, called Tara up to eat with him, and since neither of them had slept well, they went back to catch up on sleep afterward.

It was ten o’clock when Yeats Howard arrived, and lunchtime was just around the corner, so Marcus naturally didn’t want Tara going hungry.

"Alright then! Hurry up!" The moment Yeats heard there was food, his brows instantly beamed with joy. Those ten dishes from last night had all been polished off by the end; Marcus even went to cook a bowl of noodles for each of them in the middle of the night, and then the group had another pot of tea after the booze before finally calling it a night.

Yeats was known as the Little Demon Lord of the Imperial City, a master of food, drink, and fun in every respect, but when it came to Marcus’s cooking, he practically drooled all over the floor. No one knew how this kid did it—same ingredients, same steps, but change the person and the taste was completely different.

"Marcus, do we need to prepare a gift for the engagement banquet?" Tara suddenly remembered this and hurriedly asked Marcus, "Did you get a gift ready?"

Marcus shook his head. Beside him, Yeats let out a sleazy little laugh. A gift, seriously? They were clearly going there to crash the party and ruin someone’s engagement banquet.

"No need, no need. You’re going with me, what gift do you still need?" Yeats waved his hand carelessly and laughed. "We’re not married yet. Stuff like social gifts and favors are all handled by the elders. You two, with me, basically count as family."

"Oh." Tara nodded. She didn’t know the customs here in the Imperial City or what the standard for gifts was, but she imagined it wouldn’t be low.

"Little sis-in-law, engagement banquets here in the Imperial City don’t really take gifts anyway." Yeats explained to Tara while he waited for lunch. "The more powerful the family, the more money they lose on the wedding, because they don’t dare accept heavy gifts at all!

Like Vice Admiral Shaw’s wedding last year. The Shaw Family wanted to make it grand and glorious, but there were so many pairs of eyes watching. Luckily, they had a rich relative—that behind-the-scenes boss at the Diamond Ring shop you two went to the other day, Constantine Stewart. Constantine covered all the wedding expenses himself, so they managed to make it both low-key and luxurious. It’s not like the Shaw Family is short on money. Three generations’ worth of savings—randomly grab anything from the house and it’s an antique. But they just can’t throw a big, flashy event!"

Tara listened, tongue-tied, propping up her chin as she sat in the courtyard. "So weddings here in the Imperial City are all simple and frugal style?" she asked.

"Heh, calling it frugal is a joke. Usually it’s low-key and not ostentatious. Of course they can’t make a big fuss and let the whole world know like celebrities do. So don’t stress about it. Tonight you’re basically just going for a meal and to get to know some of the Imperial City’s so-called elites." Yeats hummed a little tune, mind full of mischief. He didn’t know exactly what Marcus was plotting, but that didn’t affect his enthusiasm for watching the show.

He knew the score. The main branch of the Shaw Family didn’t really approve of this marriage, so crashing the event was practically doing them a favor. They might even thank him for it later.

The three of them had lunch, then Yeats drove in front to lead the way and took the two of them to a brand-name store to get outfits. Tara had originally wanted to wear the suit she’d bought a couple of days ago, but Yeats ruthlessly shot it down.

"Little sis-in-law, that outfit of yours might be haute couture and look very high-end, but if you actually wear it there, you’ll realize you’re literally the only one in the entire venue not in a gown." Yeats scoffed lazily. "And Marcus—if you don’t wear a suit, people are going to assume you’re the bodyguard! Do you two have to be this stingy and penny-pinching?"

"Bodyguards wear suits too." Tara’s eyes went wide. Hearing him talk about Marcus, her little face instantly puffed up in anger. How did her Marcus look anything like a bodyguard? Since when were bodyguards this cold, sharp, and strong?

Marcus raised a brow, expression blank, and said calmly, "We’ve got to save up formula money. Can’t be wasting cash."

Yeats: "..."

Damn, why did he feel like he’d just been abused like a dog? Don’t tell him Tara already had something in her belly. Otherwise why would they be in such a rush to get married?

Yeats shot Tara a sneaky look. On the side, Marcus gave a cold snort, clamped a hand down on Yeats’s shoulder, and gave it a heavy slap. "Where are those eyes looking, huh?" he said.

"Marcus, you’re way too petty. I just took one look at little sis-in-law. If a guy’s that possessive, he’ll scare his wife off, you know." Yeats hissed in pain, face scrunched up in a wail. "Easy, go easy. This shoulder of mine is priceless, okay? Do you know how many young ladies in the Imperial City are dying to lean on it?"