Hamilton X Lafayette Novels & Stories

had risen again and again despite Summit Group’s suppression. Old Mr. Lafayette feared that Crest Co. would one day surpass Summit Group and even acquire it. No, that could not happen. His eldest grandson and granddaughter were outstanding, too. Rosalie had been fighting against River for years and was on equal footing with him. With that thought, Old Mr. Lafayette calmed down. “You’re here, River. Have a seat.” Mr. Lambert had no grudges against either side. Regardless of whether it was River or the Lafayettes, his attitude remained neutral.

His tie hung loose, careless, as if rules bent for him. The air shifted. Conversations paused. Heads turned. Gasps and whispers spread through the hallway like wildfire. “Is that—” one scrub nurse whispered, clutching her colleague’s arm. “Oh my God, it’s him. Liam Hamilton. The heir.” “He’s even hotter in person, look at that jawline.” “And he’s only twenty-five.” Her steps faltered, lungs compressing. The name ricocheted through her skull. Hamilton. As in Hamilton Medical Group. As in Hamilton Medical City, the empire she worked under.

The air smelled of lilies and expensive perfume. Inside, preparations were underway. The memorial. A private one, hosted by one of Hugh Lawson’s closest allies in the Upper East Side, was tightly controlled. Benjamin Hamilton had ordered the security detail doubled. Not that anyone had said why, atleast not out loud. Devon now stood at the edge of the Hamilton estate gardens, the cold biting against his skin. A cigarette burned between his fingers, half-finished. He didn’t smoke. Not really. But he needed something to dull the unease that sat just beneath his ribs.