Every step up the grand marble staircase felt like walking into a battlefield, but with Hart's large, warm hand resting firmly on the small of her back, Eunice found her courage.
The cameras below them clicked wildly, capturing the stark contrast between the two women waiting at the top of the stairs and the couple ascending. Vanessa, draped in white lace like a desperate bride, looked rigid and furious. Beside her, Madam Matthew leaned on her silver cane, her dark eyes tracking Eunice like a hawk watching a mouse.
"Smile, Eunice," Hart murmured against her temple, his voice a low, protective rumble. "Let them see you shine."
Before Hart could even greet his grandmother, Vanessa stepped directly into their path. She forced her lips into a sickly-sweet smile, though her eyes were practically spitting venom.
"And you brought your little assistant," Vanessa laughed lightly, a sound meant to carry to the nearby reporters. "How... charitable of you, Hart. Letting the staff see how the elite live for a night. Though I must say, Miss Vance, renting a custom Paris runway gown on a junior analyst's salary must have put you in terrible debt."
Eunice felt her cheeks burn. But before she could open her mouth to defend herself, Hart's voice sliced through the air like a guillotine.
"She didn't rent it, Vanessa," Hart stated loudly. "I bought it for her."
"Hart, you shouldn't spoil the help—"
"She isn't 'the help'," Hart interrupted, his dark eyes locking onto Vanessa's with lethal intensity. "She is the woman I have chosen."
"Hart," Madam Matthew's sharp, commanding voice finally cut in. She stepped forward, her cane clicking against the marble. "You are making a spectacle."
Madam Matthew's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. She looked past Hart, fixing her terrifying gaze directly on Eunice's stomach, hidden perfectly beneath the flowing blue fabric. She thought she held the winning card. She thought she could use Eunice's secret to destroy her.
"A bold choice, Hart," the old woman said softly, her words laced with a poisonous double meaning. "But is she strong enough for our world? I hear she has been quite... sick lately. It would be a tragedy if her fragile condition couldn't handle the pressure."
Eunice's heart stopped. She instinctively grabbed Hart's sleeve, terrified he would figure out what his grandmother meant.
But Hart didn't look confused. He didn't look angry.
He let out a low, dark, mocking laugh that sent a shiver down Eunice's spine.
"Sick?" Hart repeated, his voice echoing over the quieted crowd of reporters. He looked down at his grandmother with pure dominance. "Did you really think you were the only one who knew, Grandmother? Did you think you could use my own blood against me?"
Eunice froze. The blood drained from her face. What?
Hart turned his body, wrapping both arms around Eunice's waist, pulling her flush against his chest in front of the flashing cameras. He looked directly at the press.
"Miss Vance is not suffering from anemia," Hart's voice boomed, clear and absolute. "She is my fiancé. And she is currently pregnant with my heirs. Twins."
Complete, deafening silence fell over the St. Regis Hotel. For two seconds, no one breathed.
Then, the red carpet exploded.
Reporters screamed questions, flashbulbs fired like strobe lights, and the crowd surged forward against the barricades.
Vanessa let out a strangled, breathless gasp. Her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed in a faint, her white dress crumpling against the marble floor.
Madam Matthew stumbled back, clutching her chest, her arrogant smirk entirely wiped away. He had outplayed her. He had taken her leverage and made it his armor.
But amidst the chaos, Eunice couldn't hear the reporters. She couldn't see Vanessa on the floor. She could only stare up at Hart's sharp jawline in absolute, unadulterated horror.
"You..." Eunice choked out, her voice barely a whisper. "You knew?"
Hart looked down at her. The tender, protective mask he had worn for the last few days melted away, revealing the calculating, brilliant predator underneath.
He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear.
"You left your ID card on my hotel nightstand three months ago, Eunice," Hart whispered, his breath hot against her skin. "Did you really think a junior analyst with zero corporate experience gets hired directly to the top floor of Matthew Group by coincidence?"
Eunice's knees gave out. She would have fallen if he wasn't holding her so tightly.
He knew. He had known the entire time. The Dubai trip. Moving her into the penthouse. The forced meals of steak and spinach. He hadn't been tricked by Dr. Liam's lie about anemia. He had allowed it, watching her scramble to hide a secret he already possessed. He had orchestrated her entire life just to keep his children under his roof.
"I've been watching you since day one, little mouse," Hart murmured, kissing the side of her head as the cameras flashed. "And you are never, ever leaving my sight again."