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17kNovel > The Billionaire’s Secret Heirs > Legacy 180

Legacy 180

    <b>Chapter </b><b>180 </b>


    -MIA POV-


    I stared at my phone screen, waiting for Hunter’s name to appear. It had been three days since our meeting in his office, and nothing had happened.


    Not even a text about the charity g contracts I’d conveniently left on his desk.


    Three days of silence while that woman got to wake up next to him every morning.


    i set the phone down harder than necessary and walked to my apartment window. From here, I could see the top floors of Hunter’s building.


    Somewhere up there, Celine was ying house with my future husband.


    My phone buzzed. For a split second, my heart jumped.


    “Lunch tomorrow? – Mom”


    I deleted the message without responding. I wasn’t in the mood for another conversation about patience and proper timing.


    But maybe I should be.


    I grabbed my keys and headed for the parking garage. Eleanor Reid always had good advice, even if I didn’t always want to hear it.


    Eleanor’s vi was exactly as I remembered–elegant, intimidating, and cold enough to make you forget it was someone’s home.


    She greeted me with air kisses and led me to her sitting room, where tea was already waiting.


    “You look frustrated, dear,” she said, settling into her chair with practiced grace.


    “I’m fine.” <fn4f9f> ???? ????s? ???????s ?? fin?novel</fn4f9f>


    “No, you’re not. Let me guess….Hunter is still being stubborn about that woman.”


    I stirred my tea, not trusting myself to speak civilly about Celine.


    “The media attention has been helpful,” Eleanor continued. “People are starting to see what I’ve been telling Hunter all along. She’s not suited for this life.”


    “But he’s not listening<b>.</b>”


    “Men rarely do when they think they’re in love.” Eleanor’s voice carried the weight of experience. “They have to discover the truth for themselves.”


    “How long am I supposed to wait? She’s having his baby, Eleanor. His second child. Every day I wait is another day she gets inore rooted in his


    Eleanor set down her teacup and studied me with those sharp blue eyes that Hunter had inherited.


    “<b>What </b>have you been doing to insert yourself into his world?”


    <i>“</i>I’ve <b>been </b><b>finding </b>restent to see him Charity <b>work</b>, family events, business meetings. But he’s <b>always </b>polite and distant Like <b>I’m </b><b>just </b>another <b>responsibility</b><b>, </b>


    “Because you’re acting like one.” Eleanor leaned forward slightly. “You’re being too avable, too eager. Men like Hunter respond to challenge, not convenience.”


    “So what do you suggest?”


    6


    “Stop chasing him. Start making him chase you.” Eleanor stood and walked to the window. “Create situations where he needs you. Where you’re the solution to problems he doesn’t even know he has yet.”


    I frowned. “I don’t understand.”


    “That woman is his weakness right now. The media, the business concerns, the social pressure–it’s all connected to her. Instead ofpeting with her directly, make yourself necessary to solving the problems she’s causing.”


    Eleanor turned back to me with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.


    “Be the calm in his storm. Be the person who makes his life easier instead of moreplicated. And when he starts to rely on you…”


    “He’ll realize what he’s been missing.”


    “Exactly.” Eleanor returned to her chair. “But you have to be strategic about it. No more convenient drop–ins. No more obvious pursuit. Mak hime to you.”


    I thought about this for a moment. It made sense, but it also felt like more waiting.


    “What about Cèline? She’s not just going to disappear.”


    Eleanor’s expression hardened.


    Y


    “Celine is already doing half the work for us. The media attention, the social pressure, the constant scrutiny–it’s wearing on her down. I can see it when i look at her. She’s starting to question whether she belongs in Hunter’s worid.”


    “But what if she decides to fight for him?”


    “Then we help her make the right decision.” Eleanor’s voice was silk over steel. “Every woman has a breaking point, dear. We just need to find hers.”


    The conversation continued for another hour<b>, </b>with Eleanor sharing stories of other unsuitable women who’d been convinced to step aside for the greater good.


    By the time I left, I had a clearer picture of what needed to happen.


    But first, I needed to test Eleanor’s theory about making Huntere to me.


    Two days <bter</b><b>, </b>I <b>was </b>at Meridian, the exclusive restaurant where Hunter often had business lunches<b>. </b>


    <b>I </b><b>had </b>made a reservation months ago for this exact purpose–<b>to </b>be in his <b>path </b>without <b>obviously </b>seeking him out.


    <b>I </b><b>was </b>halfway through <b>my </b>sd when I saw <b>him </b>walk <b>in </b><b>with </b><b>two </b><b>men </b><b>in </b><b>expensive </b>suits. Business associates, <b>probably </b><b>discussing </b><b>some </b>merger <b>or </b>investment


    Hunter’s eye <b>found </b><b>mine </b>across the <b>room</b><b>, </b>


    Frave <b>him </b><b>a </b><b>polite </b><b>smite </b><b>and </b>a <b>small </b><b>wave</b><b>, </b>then Immediately <b>turned </b>back <b>to </b><b>my </bpanion- a <b>gallery </b><b>owner </b><b>I </b><b>had </b><b>recruited </b><b>for </b><b>exactly </b><b>this </b>purpose


    “The Degas collection would be perfect for your spring exhibition,” I said loudly enough for nearby tables to hear.


    “My foundation would be happy to sponsor the opening.”


    Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hunter pause at his table, ncing our way.


    Perfect.


    I continued my conversation, making sure tough at appropriate moments, to look engaged and sessful, andpletely unbothered by his presence.


    When his server approached with the wine list, I stood to leave.


    “Mia.”


    I turned, feigning surprise. “Hunter. How nice to see you.”


    He looked different than he had in his office–more tired, more stressed. The media attention was taking its toll.


    “Having a business lunch?” he asked, nodding toward mypanion.


    “Arts funding. Very boring, I’m sure.” I gathered my purse, making no effort to prolong the conversation. “I should let you get back to your meeting.”


    “Actually…..” He seemed to catch himself. “How’s the charity g nning going?”


    “Wonderfully. We should have everything finalized soon. I’ll have my assistant send <i>you </i>the final details.”


    “You don’t need to have your assistant….”


    “It’s more efficient this way.” I smiled coolly. “You have enough on your te right now.”


    I left before he could respond, feeling his eyes on me as I walked out.


    Phase oneplete.


    Over the next week, I staged three more “idental” encounters. A business dinner where I wasworking with hispetitors.


    A charity function where I was the guest speaker. A gallery opening where I arrived with a well–known businessman’s son.


    Each time, Hunter noticed. Each time, he tried to prolong our conversation. Each time, I politely pulled myself.


    I was ying hard to get, and it was working.


    <b>But </b>it <b>wasn’t </b>enough Eleanor was right about Celine’s problems creating opportunities, but those problems weren’t escting fast <b>enough</b><b>. </b>


    <b>Maybe </b><b>they </b>needed help<b>. </b>


    <b>I </b><b>scrolled </b><b>through </b><b>my </b><b>phone </b><b>until </b>I found <b>the </b><b>number </b>for Reba Lawson<b>, </b><b>a </b>gossip blogger who owed <b>me </b><b>a </b>favor after I <b>had </b><b>given </b><b>her </b><b>an </b><b>exclusive </b>about a <b>senator’s </b><b>wile’s </b>gambling <b>problem</b>.


    <b>Reba</b><b>? </b>It’s Mia <b>ckwood</b>. I have <b>something </b><b>that </b><b>might </b>interest you”


    I’m <b>listening </b>


    “It’s about Hunter Reid and his girlfriend. I have some information about her past that your readers would find… illuminating.”


    “What kind of information?”


    I smiled, thinking about the private investigator’s report I’d tasked weeks ago. Nothing scandalous, unfortunately, but enough small details to paint a picture of instability.


    “The kind that makes people question someone’s motivations. Her financial problems before she met Hunter. The way she moved from job to job. Some interesting details about her family situation.”


    “Send me what you have. If it’s good, I can have something up tonight.”


    After I hung up, I felt a familiar thrill of anticipation.


    This wasn’t about hurting Celine–it was about helping her see the truth.


    She didn’t belong in Hunter’s world, and the sooner she realized that, the better for everyone.


    I was doing her a favor, really.


    By tomorrow, there would be new stories. New questions about Celine’s past. New pressure on their rtionship.


    And when Hunter needed someone to help him steer the fallout, someone who understood his world and could make his life easier…


    I would be ready.


    But first, I needed to make sure I stayed far away from anything that could be traced back to me. Thest thing I wanted was for Hunter to


    think Lwas behind the media attention.


    I was just a concerned friend, after all.


    A concerned friend who happened to be perfect for him.
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