جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 160

POV: Claire Desmond Creak. The sound of a bedroom door interrupted us. Tiny, rhythmic footsteps padded across the floor. Alana ran into the living room, her brown hair a mess of tangles from her nap. She was clutching 'Bear-Bear' to her chest, the old stuffed animal's ears flopping as she moved. She stopped about six feet away from the sofa. Her gray eyes—so like Gareth’s, but filled with a child’s softness—blinked as she looked from her father to me. She was sharp. She could feel the change in the air. She looked for her folding desk, her workbooks, her crayons. They weren't there. She looked at us, her little brow furrowed in a way that was painfully adorable. "Miss Claire? Did you forget the books?" she asked, her voice still raspy from sleep. I swallowed. My throat felt like i

POV: Claire Desmond "Mr. Vale, regarding the budget..." He hesitated, clutching his pride. "I’ve liquidated some personal assets to contribute to the ceremony. I want to make sure my daughter has—" Vincent stopped mid-sentence, looking up from a security graphic. He met my father’s eyes with a polite, but utterly lethal half-smile. "Mr. Desmond, with all due respect," Vincent said, his tone clinical. "This is a Hamilton wedding. The Chairman has authorized an 'unlimited' expenditure. All funds have been pre-allocated from our Manhattan HQ." He adjusted a silver cufflink with a slow, deliberate motion. "Your only task, sir, is to show up, stand straight, and look happy for your daughter." My father went silent. He looked small. His "reserve fund" was probably less than what these people spent on jet fuel in a month.&n

POV: Claire Desmond The sliding door retracted. I stepped out slowly, lifting the hem just enough to glide across the plush carpet. Shannon, who had been busy taking selfies with a mannequin, turned around. Thud. Her phone slipped from her hand, landing forgotten on the rug. Her mouth hung open. "HOLY... CLAIRE!" Shannon shrieked, her voice echoing through the quiet boutique. "You look like a high-fashion editorial came to life! This isn't 'teacher' level—this is 'goddess-descending-to-judge-mortals' level!" She circled me, her face a mask of pure disbelief. "The Boss is going to lose his mind. He’s going to demand the wedding happen right here in front of the guards!" I laughed, the first real laugh in days. Shannon’s chaos was the only thing keeping me grounded. "But Nathalie,"

POV: Claire Desmond "I almost broke you," she continued, her voice cracking. "My vanity... my absolute terror of being 'nobody'... it blinded me. I didn't see a daughter who needed protection. I saw a life raft for a sinking ship. I treated you like an asset, Claire. Not a human being." She reached out, her fingers cold and shaking as they gripped mine. "When you walked out that night, I was furious. But then... seeing you at the Plaza, standing there in that dress, looking Jake Floyd in the eye and telling him to go to hell... I realized something." She choked back a sob. "I’d already lost the little girl who used to ask for stories before bed. I turned you into a soldier because I decided to be your enemy." Mom finally broke. She covered her face with one hand, her shoulders heaving with the weight of years of repressed

POV: Claire Desmond Gareth obsidian eyes didn't blink. He watched me as if every other soul in that room was nothing more than a blurred, irrelevant shadow. To the side, Gary Vale stood like a sentinel, his hands clasped in front of him. His face was a professional mask, but there was a flicker of genuine pride in his eyes as he watched his boss finally take what he had fought so hard to protect. Shannon was in the second row, right behind my mother. My best friend wasn't even trying to be "High Society." She was clutching a handful of tissues, sobbing openly—full-on, mascara-ruining tears. She gave me a frantic, shaky thumbs-up through the waterworks. Nora and Nathan were there, too. Nora’s smile was wide and watery, while Nathan gave me a slow, supportive nod that said you made it. And there, right by Gareth’s feet, was Alana. Our flower girl. She looked like a