47 Chapter 49
Chapter 49- An Unmoved Heart, A Dazzling Night, and a Dreaded Link to the Past
Eleanor dropped to her knees on the sidewalk, her designer pants hitting the dirty concrete. “Please, Hazel,” she begged, tears streaming down her face. “I’ll do anything.”
I stared down at the woman who had made my life hell for fifteen years. The woman who had smiled with false sweetness while whispering poison into my father’s ear. The woman who had encouraged Ivy’s cruelty toward me. And now here she was, kneeling before me, desperate.
“The do
Julian stood beside her, swaying slightly. He looked terrible–the blood donation had clearly taken its toll on him. His eyes were sunken, his skin sallow. He’d always been handsome, but now he looked like a ghost of himself.
“Get up,” I said coldly to Eleanor. “You’re making a scene.”
She remained on her knees. “I don’t care. I’ll beg if I have to. My daughter is dying.”
“And my mother died while you lived in her house and slept with her husband,” I replied, my voice flat. “Did you kneel for her?”
Eleanor flinched as if I’d slapped her.
I bent down to look her directly in the eyes. “Do you remember what you said to me when my mother was dying? When I begged you to convince my father to try experimental treatments?”
She shook her head slightly.
“You said, ‘Some people aren’t meant to survive, Hazel. The sooner you accept that, the easier it will be. Well, I’m giving you the same advice now.”
Julian stepped forward. “Hazel, please—”
“No.” I straightened up, pulling Biscuit’s leash tighter as he growled at Julian. “I spent five years giving you my blood, Julian. Five years of needles and weakness and dizzy spells so you could live. And how did you repay me? By canceling our wedding to marry my dying stepsister
“I made a mistake,” he whispered.
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“You made a choice,” I corrected. “And now I’m making mine. The answer is no.”
Eleanor’s mascara ran down her cheeks in black rivulets. “She’ll die without your help.
I looked at her impassively. “Then she’ll die.”
With that, I walked around them and headed into my building, Biscuit trotting beside me. I didn’t look back, but I heard Eleanor’s quiet sobs and Julian’s attempts to comfort
her.
Once inside my apartment, I leaned against the door and let out a long, shuddering breath. My hands were trembling, but I felt lighter somehow. For years, I had bent and broken myself to please others–my father, my stepmother, Julian, Ivy. But not
anymore.
Three days later, I stood in front of my bedroom mirror, admiring the caramel–colored pantsuit I’d chosen for Mrs. Sterling’s birthday gala. The rich tone complemented my skin perfectly, and the sleek cut gave me a sophisticated edge.
I’d opted for something different than the typical gown most women would wear. As a designer, I knew the impact of making a deliberate style choice. The pantsuit was elegant but unexpected–like me, I hoped.
My phone pinged with a text from Damien.
*The car will arrive in twenty minutes. Looking forward to seeing you.*
I smiled at my reflection, touching up my lipstick one last time. After the
confrontation with Eleanor and Julian, I’d worried I might feel guilty, but instead, I felt free. For once, I’d chosen myself.
When the doorbell rang, I was surprised to find not just a driver, but a sleek, midnight blue Rolls Royce waiting for me. A uniformed chauffeur bowed slightly.
“Miss Ashworth, Mr. Sterling sent me to escort you to Sterling Heights Estate.”
Of course Damien wouldn’t just send a regular car. I slid into the plush leather backseat, trying not to gape at the luxury surrounding me.
As the car wound through/progressively more exclusive neighborhoods, I gazed out at the mansions growing larger and more imposing. Finally, we turned through ornate
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gates marked with a discreet “S” and drove up a long, tree–lined driveway.
Sterling Heights Estate was magnificent–a sprawling mansion of stone and glass set among manicured gardens. Fountains sparkled in the evening light, and I could see staff bustling around a grand tent pavilion set up on one side of the property.
The car pulled up to the main entrance where Damien stood waiting, striking in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo.
“You came,” he said simply as the chauffeur opened my door.
“I said I would.” I took his offered hand, stepping out of the car.
His eyes traveled appreciatively over my pantsuit. “You look stunning. I should have expected you wouldn’t choose a conventional gown.”
“Is that a problem?” I asked, suddenly uncertain.
“The opposite.” He smiled, linking my arm through his. “You’ll stand out as the most interesting woman here. Mother will be delighted.”
We walked toward the house, and I couldn’t help noticing the curious glances from staff and early guests alike. I caught snippets of whispered conversation:
“…that’s Hazel Ashworth…”
…is Sterling finally choosing someone?”
“…heard his mother invited her specifically…”
Damien seemed oblivious–or more likely, accustomed–to the attention. “Most guests. will arrive in about half an hour,” he explained. “I wanted you here early to meet a few key family members before the crowd descends.”
My stomach tightened. “Key family members? That sounds serious.”
He squeezed my hand reassuringly. “Nothing to worry about. My mother is eager to see you again, and my grandfather asked to meet you.”
“Your grandfather?” I nearly stopped walking. “Isn’t he the former—”
“Military general, yes.” Damien’s expression grew more serious. “He doesn’t attend many functions these days, so his presence tonight is significant.”
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Great. No pressure at all.
“Should I be nervous?” I asked, aiming for lightness but missing the mark.
Damien paused, turning to face me fully. “You should be yourself, Hazel. That’s who I invited.”
Something in his gaze made my breath catch. Before I could respond, a familiar voice called out.
“Hazel! You made it!” Chloe bounded down the steps toward us, radiant in a midnight blue gown that matched her brother’s eyes.
“You clean up nicely when you’re not pretending to be a ride–share driver,” I teased.
She laughed, linking her arm through my free one. “Come on, I’ll give you the quick tour before the dragons descend.”
“Dragons?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Society matrons,” she clarified. “They’ll circle you like sharks once they realize you’re
with Damien.”
“Chloe,” Damien sighed, “please don’t scare her off before the party even starts.”
“Just being honest,” she replied cheerfully. “You know they’ve been trying to match you with their daughters for years.”
I glanced at Damien, wondering if this gala was some kind of bride–selection event I’d unwittingly walked into. He caught my look and shook his head slightly, as if reading my thoughts.
“Ignore her,” he advised. “My sister has an overactive imagination.”
As we approached the main entrance, I noticed more cars arriving, including a familiar–looking dark Bentley with a distinctive license plate. My blood ran cold.
That car. I knew that car.
It had been parked outside Julian’s apartment the day we’d had our worst fight–the day I’d screamed at him about Ivy. I’d noticed it because of the vanity plate: “EASTON1.”
Damien followed my gaze. “Ah, that’s Elias Easton’s car. Family friend, though more my father’s generation than mine.”
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I felt the blood drain from my face. Elias Easton–the name sounded vaguely familiar. Was he one of Julian’s business associates? Had he witnessed my humiliating meltdown that day?
“What’s wrong?” Damien asked, his voice sharp with concern. “Do you know Easton? Did he bully you?”
I looked up into Damien’s worried eyes, panic rising in my chest. How could I explain the mortifying scene this man might have witnessed? How I’d screamed and cried and thrown Julian’s gifts at him after discovering yet another “special visit” from Ivy?
If Easton recognized me and mentioned it to Damien…
My perfect evening was about to implode.
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