Chapter 4

It was subtle, but I caught it.

"My boss, Ms. Hemsley, deserves the credit," Owen corrected gently. "I'm just helping make it happen."

"Ms. Hemsley?" I asked casually. "Is she single? Renting out a ballroom this big and setting up a double seat of honor... I figured it was for her husband."

The room fell quiet for a few seconds.

Owen looked at me, his expression shifting with curiosity, caution, and a trace of smug satisfaction he couldn't quite conceal.

"I don't really know much about Ms. Hemsley's personal life." He turned away and addressed the staff. "I'm going to double-check the menu. I'll leave you gentlemen to it."

Then he walked off, the crisp click of his dress shoes echoing across the ballroom.

Finn bumped my shoulder. "Quentin, what was that about? Those were some strange questions."

"Just making conversation." I pulled my gaze away. "Come on. Let's look at the other ballrooms."

We headed for the elevator.

Just before the doors closed, I glanced back one last time.

Owen was standing in the center of the stage, looking down at his tablet.

The lights from the starry ceiling spilled across him, wrapping him in a soft, almost unreal glow. Then, he lifted his head and looked toward the elevator.

Our eyes met one final time through the narrowing gap between the doors.

He smiled.

The expression carried the quiet confidence of someone who believed he had already won. There was even a hint of pity in it.

The elevator started down.

"You know him?" Finn asked.

"No." I watched the floor numbers light up one by one. "But we'll be getting acquainted soon enough."

That evening, Adeline came home unusually early, looking irritated.

"Everything okay?" I asked, ladling soup into a bowl for her.

"It's nothing." She rubbed her temples. "Just a minor issue at the company. It'll be handled soon."

"That's good." I slid the bowl toward her. "By the way, I went to the Grand Monarch Hotel today."

She paused. "What were you doing there?"

"A friend wanted to check out wedding venues." My tone stayed casual. "I saw people setting up the Starlight Ballroom. That's for your anniversary gala, right?"

"Yeah," she said hesitantly.

"The double seat of honor is a nice touch." I looked at her. "Was that your idea?"

Adeline set down her spoon. "That was the event planner's idea. Don't start reading into things."

"I'm not reading into anything." I smiled. "I just thought if we ever renewed our vows, we could borrow something like that."

The tension in her expression eased, and she reached for my hand.

"Once the company goes public, we'll have the biggest wedding imaginable."

Another promise.

I squeezed her hand in return. Her palm felt warm, but her fingertips were cold.

"Oh, right. I was cleaning the study yesterday and noticed some photos on your old laptop."

I kept my tone light.

"They looked like company outings or team-building events. There was one guy who seemed familiar. Wasn't he the one who dropped off documents here once?"

Adeline's grip tightened slightly.

"Which guy?"

"The tall one with the slightly wavy hair. He looked pretty capable." I blinked innocently. "I think his name was Owen?"

Silence settled over the table.

After a long pause, she let go of my hand, and her voice returned to its usual calm.

"That's Owen from Administration. He's very capable. Why are you asking about him all of a sudden?"

"I just thought he was a good-looking guy." I stood and started gathering the dishes, keeping my back to her. "It's reassuring to know you have employees like that helping you."

She didn't say another word.

I carried the dishes into the kitchen and turned on the faucet. The rush of water drowned out the sound of my heartbeat.

That night, Adeline slept soundly.

I got out of bed, opened the hidden compartment, and took out the tie-clip camera. Then I attached it to the inside of the black coat I planned to wear the next day.

-

The day of the gala arrived.

At 7 a.m., I dropped Cole off at my parents' house.

I stood there for a long time, watching him run into my dad's arms.

Then I turned around, got into my car, and headed for a private styling studio.

The owner was Eli Spence, an old classmate of mine.