What was she doing just now? Trying to stake her claim? Warn other women to stay away from Fraser?

What a joke. She didn't have the right. Not anymore. They were done, or at least she'd already decided to be.

Six years she'd spent tangled up with Fraser. The Hawkins family business was steady now, everything she'd ever fought for-he gave it all to her. And now that he was finally back in the country, ready to take on the world, she wasn't about to drag him down with messy loose ends.

She'd promised herself she'd walk away clean-and she wasn't going to be the name people whispered about in his story from here on.

Bellamy rubbed the corner of her eye, head down, and when she looked up, someone stood right in front of her. They almost bumped.

She took a small step back and found herself face to face with Marianne Blake, poised and graceful like always.

"Bellamy, you really shouldn't be here," Marianne said, her tone soft but her words cutting sharp. "Fraser's already done more than enough for you. He's back, and he's finally stepping up to lead the Branwell Group. This is his time. He deserves someone who truly fits him-like Lydia Grant. You ought to know your place by now, don't you think?"

Marianne's dark purple gown made her look stunningly dignified. She was in her early forties, but she looked barely thirty, like time itself was giving her special treatment. Her beauty was still breathtaking, a timeless charm.

Bellamy stared at the face that so closely mirrored her own-too similar, in fact. Instantly, all that softness and hesitation inside her vanished.

She let out a faint, detached laugh. "Lydia might be high-born and polished, but that doesn't mean she's the perfect match for Fraser. If she really were, then how do you explain your own existence? As far as I know, you weren't exactly some silver-spoon debutante either. And yet-weren't you the one who became Mrs. Branwell?"

Marianne's face paled.

Bellamy's smile turned sharp as she stepped right past her, the sway of her dress almost mocking.

Marianne snapped out of her daze and caught Bellamy's arm, desperation sneaking into her voice. "Bellamy, don't go over to Fraser. Please, I'm begging you. Just don't."

Bellamy calmly uncurled her fingers one by one and turned back, her tone cool with a hint of smugness. "Mrs. Branwell, even if I don't go to him, he's already on his way to me. Don't believe me? Just look-you'll see."

Marianne's eyes widened in disbelief as Bellamy gave a tiny nod toward the ballroom.

Then she leaned close, voice low and razor-sharp by her ear. "He's already in deep. Did you think I'd let him walk away that easily?"

She felt Marianne freeze. Oh, that felt good.

Fraser hadn't even made it all the way to them yet, but Bellamy went ahead and met him halfway, slipping her arm through his smoothly, tilting her head with an innocent grin.

"You finished your speech-why'd you take so long to come find me? I've been waiting forever to dance with you!"

Fraser smiled slightly, gently patting her hand on his arm before turning to Marianne. "Marianne, didn't Dad say you weren't feeling well? Shouldn't you be resting at home? There's really no need for you to be here tonight."

Marianne shed her colder demeanor and answered with warmth, "Oh, I'm fine. Your father just fusses too much. Today's such a huge day for you-there's no way I'd miss it."

Right then, Arthur Branwell walked up, slipping an arm around his wife. His glance toward Bellamy held a flash of something like resignation, but he addressed his son.

"Fraser, a lot of the older folks came tonight. Be sure to go talk to them. You'll be needing their support down the road."

Fraser nodded lightly, then took Bellamy's hand and led her straight to the dance floor.

Marianne watched them walk off together, eyes filled with quiet desolation.

Arthur gently pulled her into his arms, voice low and comforting. "Come on now, you're still recovering. Don't overthink it. Go sit for a bit, get some rest."

*****

Bellamy lounged lazily against Fraser, swaying with the music like she was right at home.

Fraser ran his fingers through her silky hair, speaking to her in a soft, tender tone, "Bellamy, my step-mom's been in bad shape lately. Try not to upset her, alright?"

Bellamy froze mid-step, slowly pulling away from his embrace. Her smile was all sharp edges. "You all say that every other day. If she's really been so sick for all these years, how's she still alive? Isn't there a saying-evil lingers the longest?"

"Bellamy!" The warmth in Fraser's expression vanished, brows pulling tight. "You can't talk about her like that, she's still-"

"Shut it!" Bellamy's pretty face twisted, lifted heel digging down hard on his foot. Fraser winced, face stiff with pain, and she didn't budge an inch.

"Fraser, I don't want to hear another word about her. Say I went too far, fine. But let's skip her and talk about Lydia instead. Seemed like you guys were all kinds of cozy just now."

Fraser sighed in frustration, decided to go with her diversion. "Lydia's my junior from college. She graduated two years ago and just came back. We barely ran into each other; only exchanged a few polite words."

As he spoke, he wrapped an arm around her waist and gently hoisted her off his foot.

Bellamy didn't resist, but gave him a look that said she wasn't letting him off that easy. "Lydia, huh? That was real sweet. Just so you know, while you managed to save your foot, mine is still emotionally wounded."

He knew she was just being bratty, but he couldn't help laughing.

Tapping her forehead playfully, his voice filled with mock solemnity, "Alright, no more Lydia. From now on, it's Ms. Grant-shouldn't cause any more involuntary shivers, right?"

Bellamy was all smiles, nodding like a happy bunny before diving back into his arms.

Not far off, Marianne was still staring in their direction. Bellamy shot her a smug, cocky eyebrow raise-just like a victor flaunting her prize.

*****

The party wrapped up early.

Fraser, as the host, stayed to see guests off. Bellamy slipped out to the balcony where it was quiet, waiting for him to finish up so they could leave together.

The breeze carried the early chill of autumn, and Bellamy hugged her arms, hopping lightly in place to stay warm.

Suddenly, the balcony door creaked open. Lydia walked in, all poise and elegance.

"Miss Hawkins, still here? Taking in the night view alone?" Her hands rested lightly on the railing as she looked up at the stars before turning to Bellamy. "The location here really is perfect. Such a lovely view."

Under the porch light, that smile-just the right amount of polite perfection-was enough to make anyone feel queasy.

Bellamy sighed, disappointed, and cut straight to the chase.

"Miss Grant, we've interacted a few times. I thought you were the straightforward type. Didn't expect you to play this fake game too. I'm not into it. So if you've got something to say, say it."

Lydia's expression didn't change, her voice still sweet and calm. "I'm not quite sure what you mean, Miss Hawkins."

Bellamy gave her a long look, lips curling ever so slightly. "I'm talking about Fraser. That should clear things up, shouldn't it?"

Lydia's smile froze right then.

Bellamy wasn't in the mood to beat around the bush with her, so she cut right to the chase.

"I know Miss Grant is a strong candidate for the Branwell family's daughter-in-law, and you obviously have a thing for Fraser. And yeah-I'm his woman. Not his official girlfriend though. Just... something like a fling or hookup. So if you're looking to win him over, don't waste your time treating me like some rival to take down. The quickest way is to go straight to him."

She finished in one breath, casually flicked her fingers in the direction of the main hall with a confident air.

Right then, the balcony door slid open again.

Fraser nodded politely but distantly at Lydia.

Then he draped his blazer over Bellamy's shoulders, tucking it around her as he gently scolded her,

"Didn't I tell you to wait for me in the room upstairs? What are you doing out here in the cold? You trying to get sick?"

Bellamy stuck her tongue out and pointed toward Lydia behind him, clearly trying to shift the blame.

"Pretty sure I'm not the only one who's asking for trouble. Your college junior's out here too!"

Fraser shot her a helpless look, pulled her into his arms, and turned to Lydia, who was still wearing her ever-graceful smile. "I had someone arrange a car for you outside. It's ready to take you home."

Lydia's lips had gone pale in the night breeze, but her smile stayed sweet, eyes carrying a soft glint. "Alright, thank you, Fraser. Oh, and since it's been a while and the vibe tonight isn't great for catching up, why don't we pick another time to meet and really talk?"

No sooner had she said that than Bellamy rubbed her arms dramatically, giving a theatrical shiver.

"What's wrong? Cold?" Fraser's expression changed slightly as he pulled her tighter into his arms, completely ignoring everything Lydia had just proposed.

Bellamy, still chuckling as she patted her chest, said, "I'm fine! Just got a little nauseated hearing all those 'Fraser this' and 'Fraser that' from Miss Grant. It was so sugary I almost passed out."

Lydia's smile faltered instantly; no amount of poise could save her expression now.

Fraser, though, gave the faintest grin like he was amused, trying hard not to laugh.

He knew Bellamy was up to her usual mischief again... and once again, he had to play clean-up crew.

Being the well-mannered gentleman was second nature to him. He turned to Lydia looking a bit apologetic. "Miss Grant, sorry about that. Bellamy's a bit childish sometimes, doesn't really mean any harm. Plus, she had a couple extra drinks tonight-probably a little tipsy. Don't take what she says too seriously."

Lydia lowered her eyes, sneering inwardly.

If he'd seen how Bellamy coolly outbid everyone at the western city project just last week, he wouldn't be calling her childish.

If he'd watched her drink a table full of sweaty businessmen under the table the week before that, he wouldn't be buying that 'a few drinks' nonsense.

Do you even realize how ruthless that woman really is, Fraser?

Suddenly, Lydia looked up and flashed a warm smile. "It's fine, Fraser. I know a little about Bellamy's past... It's normal for her to act like a kid sometimes. I understand, and I won't take it personally."

The moment those seemingly innocent words slipped out, Bellamy's head snapped up. Her bright almond eyes sharpened instantly, like she was just about to unleash hell.

Seeing that, Lydia instinctively took a small step back, looking flustered and putting on a pitiful expression.

She quivered slightly and said in a soft voice, "Bellamy, why are you staring at me like that? It's kind of scary. Did I say something wrong? If I did, I'm really sorry... Please don't be mad."

She looked innocent on the outside, but inside, she was grinning with satisfaction.