"But you used to love them," Hawthorne said softly. "Let me pick one for you. For the wedding, you''ll have a wedding gown and a red silk dress for the reception. My Gwyn will take everyone''s breath away."


    Gwh sidestepped the hand he habitually raised to touch her head, her voice cold. “That''s enough. Let''s go." He was probably just cating Patti Yale, she thought bitterly, spinning lies to both of them. He told her there was nothing between them, yet Patti was carrying his child. What kind of story had he woven to keep that woman so devoted?


    She was Gwh Langford. Her family didn''t need to depend on Hawthorne for anything. She wouldn''t be controlled, and she certainly didn''t need his fake tenderness. His every concern, which once felt so warm, now only felt disgusting. Gwh maintained a safe distance from Hawthorne, refusing to let him get close.


    When they arrived at the family estate, Victoria, Chris, Celia, and the Langford patriarch were all formally dressed and waiting in the grand hall. The patriarch, Thorpe, was wearing a handsome silk shirt. He looked a world away from the frail man who had left the hospital; his face was ruddy and full of life, as if he hadn''t just been at death''s door.


    Gwh was wearing a pale pink, form-fitting dress, her long hair pinned up in an elegant bun that gave her a ssic, graceful beauty. Even the house staff stared, having never seen her look quite like this before.


    "You look so beautiful today, Gwyn," Celia said, looking radiant herself in a yful, knee-length dress.


    "You too," Gwh replied, affectionately pinching Celia''s cheek.


    Chris, ever the stoic, was dressed in a ck polo shirt, already beginning to carry himself with the air of his father, McNeil. "Sister," he greeted, his tone more reserved than Celia''s.


    "Chris, the family will be in your hands from now on," Gwh said softly. As the only male heir of his generation, the family''s future rested on his shoulders. Once she was married, she would no longer belong solely to the Langfords.


    "Don''t worry. I''ve got this," he said, his gaze shifting to Hawthorne, his expression.cook My sister is in your hands now if you ever hurt her, our entire family will make you regret it.” His words were not a joke; his eyes held a chilling warning.


    Hawthorne, however, didn''t seem to mind. He simply smiled and wrapped his arm around Gwh''s shoulders naturally. "Rest assured, I would sooner hurt myself than ever hurt your sister."


    Gwh''s shoulders tensed at his touch, but she forced a smile for her family''s sake. It was clear the patriarch was thrilled to see them.


    "Hawthorne, Gwyn,e over here," Thorpe called out.


    This time, when Hawthorne took when! Gwh''s hand, she didn''t resist. She even looped her arm through his, ying her part. He, in turn, covered her hand with his own, the warmth of his skin sending a jolt through her, a fleeting reminder of when they were deeply inlove. The dream had been so sweet, which only made waking up to this reality that much more painful.


    Thorpe beamed, watching the affectionate disy. "Hawthorne, my boy, I have only two precious


    granddaughters, and now you''ve stolen one awa


    She is the eldest of


    her generation, the pride of our


    family. You must never make her


    sad."