Chapter 1742:


    He didn’t trust a word of this. The Martels and the Joneses were enemies, and as far as he was concerned, this visit had the fingerprints of a scheme all over it. He suspected this woman had been nted — that the Jones family intended to use her as a way to get someone inside the Martel household, close enough to extract trade secrets and report back.


    What none of them knew was that it was Violette who had orchestrated the whole thing, with Alban unwittingly caught up in the fallout just as Gillian had been. Both of them had been manipted. Gillian alone was entirely without fault.


    “That’s a question better put to Alban himself,” Christina replied smoothly. “He’s the one who has to answer for what happened.”


    In truth, given the long and bitter history between the two families, Christina had no desire to see Gillian married into the Martels. She was afraid they would view her as a spy, treat her with suspicion, and make her life quietly miserable from the inside. What Christina wanted today was something cleaner: a substantial settlement, enough for Gillian to stand on her own and never have to look over her shoulder again.


    Alban’s parents exchanged a long, wordless look before both turning toward Henrik. Neither wanted to be the one to shoulder the decision, and so they waited for the patriarch to speak.


    “Get Alban on the phone,” Henrik said, his voice carrying the quiet authority of someone ustomed to being obeyed. “Tell him toe home. Now.”


    They had only one side of the story. Nothing could be resolved until Alban was in the room.


    ??о??an??e ??????е???? о?? ????l??о????????.????m


    “On it,” Santos said, already dialing.


    Alban had barely settled into his chair at the office when his phone lit up with his father’s name. He picked up, started to speak — and was immediately cut off by a voice that was clipped and cold.


    “Come home. Right now. We have a serious problem.”


    The line went dead before he could ask a single question.


    He sat still for a moment, then stood, reached for his coat, and instructed his driver to bring the car around immediately.


    Meanwhile, Henrik turned back to his guests, making an effort at civility. “Please, have some coffee. I give you my word — once we hear from Alban, we will give you a proper answer.”


    Even as he spoke, his gaze kept drifting back to the little girl nestled in Gillian’s arms. The resemnce unsettled him in the best possible way. The more he studied her, the more she looked like Alban had as a small child.


    He found himself wanting it to be true — desperately so. It was no secret within the family that Alban’s condition had been a source of quiet grief for years. Henrik had already dispatched a team to Apresh to locate a physician named King, though so far there had been no word. Finding King was the kind of task that bordered on the miraculous, and Henrik had no real certainty that a meeting would evere to pass.


    “I hope you’ll keep your word,” Christina said to Henrik. Then she gave Gillian’s hand a quiet, reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”


    “Thank you,” Gillian whispered, feeling some of the tension in her chest finally begin to loosen.


    .


    .


    .