The back of the Maybach was suffocatingly quiet.
Eunice stared out the tinted window at the blurring city lights, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She smoothed trembling hands over the midnight-blue organza of her dress. Underneath the flowing fabric, her twins were safely hidden, but she felt exposed, raw, and terrified.
A large, warm hand covered hers, stopping her nervous fidgeting.
Eunice turned her head. Hart was sitting beside her, radiating raw, dangerous power in a bespoke black tuxedo that fit his broad shoulders perfectly. His dark hair was styled impeccably, but his eyes were entirely focused on her.
"You are shaking," Hart observed, his deep voice cutting through the silence.
"There are going to be hundreds of cameras, Hart," Eunice whispered. "If your grandmother—"
"Forget my grandmother," Hart interrupted softly. He laced his fingers through hers, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over the back of her hand. "Tonight, you don't look at her. You don't look at the press. You look only at me. If anyone bumps into you, if you feel dizzy, or if you simply get bored, you squeeze my hand. And we leave."
Eunice swallowed hard, nodding. "Okay."
Outside the grand venue of the St. Regis Hotel, it was pure chaos.
The red carpet was lined with barricades holding back hundreds of screaming paparazzi and elite guests. Flashbulbs went off like strobe lights, temporarily blinding anyone who looked directly at them.
At the top of the grand staircase, just inside the velvet ropes, stood Madam Matthew and Vanessa.
Vanessa looked like a bride. She was wearing a custom-made, skin-tight white lace gown adorned with diamonds. She was holding a glass of champagne, laughing loudly, and soaking in the attention of the reporters.
"Miss Vanessa! Over here!" a reporter shouted. "Are the rumors true? Is Mr. Matthew making a special announcement tonight?"
Vanessa smiled coyly, tucking a blonde curl behind her ear. "You'll just have to wait and see. But Hart and I have always shared a very special bond. Grandma Matthew has been so supportive of our future."
Madam Matthew stood beside her, leaning on her silver-handled cane, looking smug. She had set the trap perfectly. The whole city was watching. Hart would have no choice but to accept the engagement or risk tanking the Matthew Group's stock on live television.
"The CEO's car is arriving!" someone yelled.
The crowd surged forward as the sleek, black Maybach pulled up to the end of the red carpet. The flashes intensified, turning the night into day.
Vanessa straightened her posture, putting on her most dazzling, victorious smile. Finally, she thought. He's here to claim me.
The driver opened the rear door.
Hart Matthew stepped out into the flashing lights. He looked lethal. He didn't smile at the cameras; he glared at them, his jaw clenched, his presence alone commanding an immediate, breathless hush over the front row of reporters.
Vanessa took a step forward, ready to descend the stairs to greet him.
But Hart didn't look up at the stairs. He didn't look at Vanessa.
Instead, he turned back to the open car door. He reached inside and offered his large hand.
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. Who was in the car? A delicate, pale hand reached out and placed itself softly into the billionaire's palm.
Hart's demeanor changed instantly. The cold, ruthless CEO vanished. He gently pulled the passenger forward, his free hand hovering protectively near her waist as she stepped out of the vehicle.
Eunice Vance emerged onto the red carpet.
The midnight-blue dress cascaded around her like a waterfall of stars. The empire waist draped perfectly, flowing over her hidden secret. Her dark hair cascaded over her bare shoulders, and her lips were painted a soft, elegant red. She looked ethereal. She looked like a queen.
The reporters went wild. "Who is she?!" "Mr. Matthew, look here! Who is your date?" "Is this the big announcement?!"
Hart didn't just hold Eunice's hand. He wrapped his arm firmly around her waist, pulling her flush against his side, practically shielding her body with his own. It was a fiercely possessive, deeply intimate gesture that told the world one thing: She is mine.
At the top of the stairs, Vanessa's champagne glass slipped from her hand. It shattered against the marble floor, the sharp sound lost in the roar of the crowd.
Her perfect smile twisted into a mask of pure, ugly rage. Her face turned as white as her bridal gown as she stared at the woman leaning into Hart's side.
"That… that little rat," Vanessa hissed, her perfectly manicured nails digging into her palms.
Madam Matthew gripped her cane so hard her knuckles turned white. Her eyes narrowed into deadly slits. The gold digger didn't run, the old woman thought, her blood boiling. She came to fight.
Down on the red carpet, Hart leaned down, his lips brushing against Eunice's ear, making the cameras flash even faster.
"You are the most beautiful woman in this city, Eunice," Hart murmured, his voice a low vibration she felt in her toes. "Now, let's go say hello to my grandmother."