<b>Chapter </b>207


    -HUNTER’S POV-


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    The garden glowed with soft golden light,nterns strung through the trees like captured fireflies. A string quartet yed somewhere near the fountain, their music weaving through the low hum of conversation andughter.


    The reception was in full swing. Caroline was radiant in her pearls and satin, Frederick held her like she was spun out of silk, and guests drifted between champagne towers and the dance floor.


    I stood near the edge of the crowd, a tumbler of bourbon in hand, surrounded by Caroline’s parents–my uncle and aunt.


    They’d always carried themselves with a kind of Old New York dignity, the kind that made people step aside without realizing they were doing it.


    “So, Hunter,” Aunt Elizabeth said, tilting her head, eyes sharp as ever, “where’s Eleanor? I assumed she wouldn’t miss her goddaughter’s wedding for the world.”


    The question was unavoidable. I had prepared for it, but still, the words felt heavy


    on my tongue.


    “She’s…upied,” I said smoothly, forcing my voice into an even rhythm. “Too manymitments pulling her in different directions. But she sends her best wishes. And gifts.”


    Uncle Richard raised a brow, clearly suspicious, but nodded politely. “Mm. That’s unlike her. She always treated Caroline like one of her own.”


    I offered a thin smile, careful not to let anything else slip.


    If they knew the truth.. that my mother was still locked away on my mountain estate, her influence severed for the first time in decades…..they would never believe it.


    And I wasn’t about to exin.


    Uncle Richard, broke the tension with a warm p to my shoulder.


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    “Hunter, I want you to know….I’m proud of you. Truly. You chose happiness, and with a good woman, too. Not many men in your position have the courage to do that.”


    My chest tightened. I followed his gaze instinctively, and there she was–Celine.


    She was on the dance floor with Caroline and ke, herughter carrying across the garden, head tipped back, curls spilling over her shoulders.


    Caesar darted nearby with ncey keeping an eye on him, shrieking in happiness as he chased bubbles some kids were blowing.


    Vincent, of course, was at the bar, already charming a group of women who should’ve known better.


    Celine looked light. Untouched. Like none of the poison dripping from the tabloids could reach her here, wrapped in music and joy.


    But I knew better. I’d seen herte at night, scrolling through her phone when she thought I was asleep. The faint furrow in her brow, the way she bit her lip.


    She pretended not to care, but every cruel headline carved into her.


    ‘Gold digger.


    ‘Brainwashed the billionaire.’


    ‘Sophia all over again.


    She endured it in silence. And I hated it. I would burn down every publication in New York before I let them break her spirit.


    I had already started cleaning house–firing the disloyal, cklisting the ones who thought my mother still pulled the strings. They would regret ever doubting me, ever touching what was mine.


    I was about to say as much–to tell Mr. Crawford just how lucky I was, and how fiercely I intended to guard that luck–when a voice interrupted.


    “Hunter. May I borrow you for a moment?”


    The hairs on my neck rose before I even turned.


    Mia.


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    She stood at the edge of the gathering, wine ss in hand, her dress immacte, her hair styled to perfection. Her smile was faint, polite, almost demure.


    It was unsettling–like watching a wolf dressed in silk.


    Uncle Richard and Aunt Elizabeth exchanged nces, then excused themselves graciously. “Of course, Hunter. We’ll catch upter.”


    I set down my ss and turned to her, already weary. “What do you want, Mia? Still have something left to say?”


    To my surprise, she didn’t snap, didn’t sneer. Instead, she lowered her gaze slightly, her voice gauged. “Actually…no. I wanted to apologize. For how I behaved in Vegas. My reaction was….uncalled for.”


    I stared at her, waiting for the venom, the sharp edge I’de to expect. But it didn’te.


    “Uncalled for?” I repeated slowly.


    “Yes.” She sipped her wine, eyes flicking up to mine. “I was emotional. I overreacted. I don’t want to lose our friendship over a moment of madness. So….” She smiled faintly, a rehearsed softness.


    “I hope we can put it behind us.”


    Friendship. The wordnded strangely, like a shard of ss in my chest.


    I searched her expression, trying to decipher the real angle. With Mia, there was always an angle. But her mask was wless tonight.


    I decided to y along. “Fine. Apology epted.”


    Her smile widened a bit. “Good” She swirled the wine in her ss, as though the conversation bored her now. “I’ll drop the finalized charity bills at your office


    tomorrow.


    “Email them. Or give them to your assistant,” I said tly. “No need to bring them yourself,”


    <b>14:33 </b>Mon, Sep 8 B


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    For a moment, something shed in her eyes….annoyance, maybe… but it vanished quickly. She tilted her head, studying me.


    And then her gaze slid past my shoulder. I didn’t need to turn to know where she was looking.


    Celine.


    I nced anyway, and sure enough, Celine had stilled on the dance floor. She was holding Caesar now, his small arms looped around her neck, but her eyes were on <ol><li><b>us</b><b>. </b></li></ol>


    On me and Mia, standing too close, talking too quietly. Confusion shadowed her features.


    Mia saw it too. I knew she did, because she looked back at me with a glint of sess before her expression softened again.


    “Congrattions, Hunter,” she said smoothly, loud enough that anyone nearby could hear. “On your marriage to Celine. She’s…lucky.”


    The words were a dagger slipped between ribs, deliberate and cruel in their


    sweetness<b>. </b>


    And then she turned and walked away, her heels clicking over the stone path, her silhouette vanishing into the crowd like smoke.


    I stood there, muscles tense, jaw locked. Vincent appeared out of nowhere, a ss in hand, brows raised. “What the hell did she want?”


    “She came to apologize,” I muttered, still watching the spot where she disappeared.


    Vincent blinked, thenughed incredulously. “She came to what?<b>” </b>


    “She apologized.”


    Vincent downed his drink in one swallow, shaking his head. “Hunter, Mia ckwood doesn’t apologize. She reloads. You’d better watch your back.” <fn902f> The rightful source is find?novel</fn902f>


    I finally tore my gaze away from the crowd and found Celine again. She was still


    <b>14:33 </b>Mon<b>, </b><b>Sep </b>8 B…


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    holding Caesar, swaying gently with him as he rubbed his sleepy eyes. Her confusion remained, but when Caesar tugged at her curls, she smiled again, pressing a kiss to his head.


    The sight undid me.


    Predator. Protector. Husband. Father. Every role shed in my chest at once.


    Vincent’s words echoed, but I shoved them aside. All that mattered was her. Them.


    I would clear every obstacle. I would silence every voice that dared question her ce at my side. And when the time was right, I would give her the wedding she deserved—no rushed chapel, no secrecy. A vow, in front of everyone, that she was


    mine.


    I tightened my grip on my ss, the bourbon burning in my throat as I drank it down.


    Mia could y her games. The world could whisper its poison.


    But I’d burn it all to ash before I let anyone touch what was mine.


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