Five Years Up I Reveal I'm The Richest He Kneels And Begs novel Chapter 11

The partner–selection banquet began in full swing.

The hall pulsed with excitement. One by one, the young elites took the stage–some showcasing wit and talent, others flaunting humor or wealth–each desperate for a glance of approval from

Sienna.

She sat at the head of the hall, poised and distant, occasionally exchanging quiet words with her parents. Her gaze swept across the crowd with calm authority–like a queen surveying her domain, cool and composed, unapproachable.

Adrian stood at the edge of the crowd like a caged beast, his body tense, his eyes wild with helpless

fury.

He watched those men surround her, watched her offer polite smiles to strangers. Jealousy and

panic burned through him like poison, searing every nerve.

Those eyes, once filled only with him, now looked elsewhere.

That girl who once clung to him in tenderness was about to choose another man to spend her life

with.

No.

He wouldn’t allow it.

“Sienna… she’s mine. She can only be mine,” He murmured, eyes turned blood–red; reason

snapped thread by thread.

Celeste clutched his arm, terrified.

“Adrian, please! Don’t do anything rash! This is the Sloane family—we can’t afford to provoke

them! You have to calm down!”

Her plea only fed his frenzy.

When one of the social heirs stepped forward to invite Sienna to dance–and she didn’t

immediately decline–Adrian’s last strand of sanity broke.

He shoved Celeste aside, forcing his way through the crowd like a man possessed.

Trays crashed, glass shattered, and startled screams filled the hall. The elegant atmosphere

dissolved into chaos.

“Stop him!” one of the Sloane guards shouted, springing forward.

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But Adrian seemed unstoppable. Fueled by sheet madness, he broke through the blockade, stumbling toward the stage until he stood before Sienna herself.

The entire hall froze.

Music cut off.

Hundreds of eyes turned to the scene.

Adrian’s hair was disheveled, his suit wrinkled, his face pale and trembling. He stared at her as if she were the last breath of air in a drowning world.

“Sienna… it’s really you? Please, let me explain–it was all a misunderstanding, I-

He reached out, trembling, trying to grasp her hand as if it could save him from falling apart.

But the moment he reached for her, her gaze turned glacial.

Sienna’s hand withdrew swiftly, folding neatly in her lap, avoiding his touch with quiet finality.

Her eyes were cold as frost, her voice sharp and steady through the microphone.

“Mr. Prescott,” she said, each syllable clear, echoing through the hall, “please mind yourself. You’ve broken quite a few things here–are we… even acquainted?”

The ice in her tone pierced him straight through the chest. He took a shaky breath, desperate.

“Sienna, I know I was wrong! I’ll pay for everything–whatever it costs, I’ll pay! But I can’t stand here and watch you choose someone else! I’ll lose my mind! You found out everything, didn’t you? That’s why you left! I didn’t know who you really were–those words I said, I-”

“You didn’t know my identity?”

Her voice sliced through his. The faint curve of her lips carried a cold, biting irony.

“So, Mr. Prescott’s love depends on who the woman is?”

“Because I’m Sienna Sloane, the heiress of the Sloane family, only now am I worthy of your remorse? Only now do I deserve your desperate performance of guilt and redemption?”

She leaned forward slightly, her gaze cutting like glass, each word hitting with surgical precision.

“Tell me,

if I were still that ‘slum girl‘ you once pitied–the one with a drunk father, a sick mother, and a rundown home–would I still deserve your love?”

“Or would you again leave me bleeding, have my blood drained to save another woman’s child, watch me whipped and humiliated, and tell me I should be grateful to be your hidden… caged

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songbird?”

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