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“You saved my grandson’s life. Twice.” Mr. Sterling Sr.’s voice softened. “Some debts. can never be repaid, Ms. Ashworth, but they are never forgotten.”
Damien led me into a side room, closing the door behind us. “I have something for you,” he said, retrieving a small, ornate wooden box from a drawer.
As if on cue, we heard the sound of a car pulling up outside. Damien straightened, his expression shifting almost imperceptibly.
“That would be him now,” he said, rising from his seat. “Hazel, would you come with
me?”
“What is this?” I asked as he placed it in hands.
my
“Yes, you have,” Mr. Sterling Sr. acknowledged with a small nod. “And contrary to what you might expect, Ms. Ashworth, I have no objections. Quite the opposite, in fact.”
“It’s from our family collection,” he explained. “I’m giving it to you, so you can give it to him. Trust me, it’s appropriate.”
“Grandfather agrees,” she chimed in once the maid had left. “He thinks it’s high time someone taught the Graysons they aren’t above the law.”
Mr. Sterling Sr. leaned forward slightly, his penetrating gaze fixed on me. “And yet you’ve handled yourself with remarkable dignity. No public meltdowns, no scandals of your making. Just quiet determination to rebuild your life.”
“You wouldn’t remember, of course. You were just a little girl, running through the military compound in Willow Creek. Brave little thing you were, rushing to help a bleeding boy you didn’t even know.”
And just like that, the brief moment of acceptance shattered.
His approval was unexpected, sending a warm rush of relief through me.
“My grandson tells me you’ve been through quite an ordeal recently. First with you former fiancé, and now with this attack.”
“Please, sit,” Mr. Sterling Sr. indicated a pair of leather armchairs facing his desk.
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The tension in my shoulders cased slightly. This was going far better than I’d dared hope.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Damien interrupted firmly. “Giselle Grayson’s actions are her own responsibility.”
A maid entered with a tea tray, momentarily pausing our conversation. As she poured for each of us, I noticed Chloe watching me with amusement, clearly enjoying my
discomfort.
I opened the box to find an antique porcelain plate painted with delicate blue brushwork. It looked museum–worthy and probably cost more than my monthly rent.
Those cryptic words hung between us as he guided me back toward the foyer, where an imposing figure now
wood.
The blood drained from my face as fragmented memories surfaced–a high fence, a military guard, a boy with a bleeding head–memories I’d dismissed as childhood imagination.
“I–I didn’t realize-” I stammered.
Mrs. Sterling’s smile only widened as she guided me to a plush sofa. “Not in this house specifically, but in our lives. Damien has told me so much about you over the years.” “However,” he said, the word hanging ominously in the air, “there is still the matter of your family situation.”
My confusion must have shown plainly on my face, because he chuckled.
Before I could protest further, he gently closed my fingers around the box. “Just be yourself, Hazel. He already knows who you are.”
I stepped forward, my gift box clutched in trembling hands, expecting the stern scrutiny of a man who had likely researched every detail of my life before allowing this meeting.
“Ms. Ashworth,” he continued, his tone measured but pointed, “I heard your family is facing some trouble?”
The way he emphasized “family” while looking at me made my heart flutter. W how they saw me? As part of their family already?
that
<
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Mrs. Sterling patted the seat beside her. “Come, sit. And please, call me Auntie. ‘Mrs. Sterling‘ makes me feel ancient.”
I took a seat, still reeling from the revelation of my childhood connection to Damien. How had I never made that connection? How had he remembered when I hadn’t?
“Thank you, sir,” I replied, surprised by the compliment.
“I hope you don’t mind that we’ve had to postpone our lunch plans,” Mrs. Sterling- Auntie–continued. “After last night’s incident, we thought it best to meet here
instead.”
The knot in my stomach returned as I followed him through the house. Damien remained close beside me, his hand occasionally brushing mine in reassurance.
“A gift for my grandfather. It’s traditional to bring something when meeting an elder in our family for the first time.”
“We’ve handed all the evidence over to the police,” Damien said. “The Graysons won’t be able to sweep this under the rug.”
Mr. Sterling Sr. looked exactly as I’d imagined a patriarch of one of America’s most powerful families would. Tall and straight–backed despite his age, with piercing eyes that seemed to take in everything at once. His silver hair was cropped short in a military style, and though he walked with a slight limp, there was nothing frail about
him.
Chapter 150 – The Sterlings‘ Embrace and a Lingering Question
Mr. Sterling Sr. accepted it with a gracious nod, examining the plate with appreciation before handing it to a waiting staff member.
The mention of “last night” made my stomach clench. Of course they knew about Giselle’s attack. How could they not?
But just as I began to relax, Mr. Sterling Sr.’s expression turned serious, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned back in his chair.
Mrs. Sterling–Auntie–reached over to pat my hand. “Damien’s grandfather is looking forward to meeting you. He/should be here any minute.”
“I understand you’re a talented designer,” Mr. Sterling Sr. began after we were settled. “Damien has shown me some of your work. Impressive craftsmanship.”
147 Chapter 150
“Yes, sir,” I admitted. “It’s been… challenging”
I nearly choked on my tea. “Your grandfather knows about this too?”
“About that,” I began hesitantly. “I’m so sorry for-”
“That was you?” I whispered, looking at Damien, who nodded with a soft smile.
Stunned, I almost forgot about the gift in my hands until Damien gently nudged me.
I sank into the sofa, still trying to process her unexpected warmth. Damien settled beside me, his hand finding mine and giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Oh! This is for you, sir,” I said, extending the wooden box. “To thank you for having me in your home.”
“Ms. Ashworth,” Mr. Sterling Sr. said, his voice deep and resonant. But instead of the cool assessment I’d braced for, his weathered face broke into a genuine smile. “At last, we meet properly. Though I believe I’ve had the pleasure once before, many years ago.” “Grandfather,” Damien said respectfully. “I’d like you to meet Hazel Ashworth.”
The study was everything I’d imagined–wood–paneled walls lined with books, a massive antique desk, and various historical artifacts displayed in glass cases. It smelled of leather and old paper, with just a hint of pipe tobacco.
“That speaks to your character, Ms. Ashworth. And character is what matters most in this family.”
I looked at Damien, whose jaw had tightened, then back at his grandfather. The question lingered between us, a reminder that no matter how warmly I’d been welcomed, some obstacles couldn’t be charmed away.
A second memory flashed–cold water, a panicked boy, my small hands grabbing his -shirt.
Damien shifted beside me, his hand finding mine openly now. “Grandfather, I’ve made my intentions regarding Hazel clear.”
before?”
My eyes darted to Damien, who gave me a reassuring nod. The revelation that he’d spoken about me to his family “over the years” sent a fresh wave of bewilderment
“Excuse me?” The words slipped out before I could stop them. “I’ve been her
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through me.
“Excellent taste,” he commented. “Now, shall we talk in my study? I find it more comfortable for serious conversations.”
I nodded, unsure where this was heading.
“My grandfather knows everything,” Damien said with a hint of weariness. “Especially when it involves family.”
“Damien, I can’t give him this. It must be incredibly valuable.”
“The Sterlings have always valued talent and hard work over pedigree,” he continued. “Though many assume otherwise.”
The question hit me like a bucket of cold water. Of course–the Sterlings might accept me personally, but the chaos surrounding my family was another matter entirely. My father’s pending criminal charges, my stepmother’s public disgrace, the business scandals–it was all public record now, all tied to my name.
I stood on shaky legs, suddenly feeling like I was about to face a job interview I hadn’t prepared for.
His mother nodded in agreement. “Damien’s right. From what I understand, that young woman has been harassing you for some time.”
“And then again,” Mr. Sterling Sr. continued, “when he fell into that river. You didn’t hesitate to jump in after him, even though the current was strong.”
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