After Eric stormed out to meet his grandfather, I collapsed into the leather chair behind his desk, my legs finally giving out. I spent ten minutes in the en-suite bathroom, splashing freezing water on my face and staring at my reflection. I looked like a ghost of the girl I used to be. Five years ago, I was the university student who thought love could bridge the gap between a scholarship girl and a Kingstone. Boy I was wrong.

I stepped back out into the gala, trying to blend into the shadows. I needed a drink to steady my nerves. I grabbed a glass of dark red wine from a passing tray and downed half of it, the tart liquid burning my throat. I scanned the room, looking for a corner to hide in, but Eric's presence was everywhere. Even when he was across the ballroom, I could feel the weight of his gaze. It was the same way he used to look at me during our secret dates-like I was the only person in the world, and like he was never going to let me go.

"Autumn! I've been looking everywhere for you!"

Chloe appeared, draped on the arm of a tall, lanky man whose suit looked like it cost more than my apartment.

"This is my fiancé, Alexander Hawthorne," Chloe said, her voice bright with a happiness I envied. "And Alex, this is Autumn, my best friend from uni. I told you she'd make it!"

Alexander didn't just shake my hand.

He took it, his eyes raking over my figure with a clinical, disgusting interest that made my skin crawl. He leaned down and kissed the back of my hand, his thumb rubbing the skin in a way that felt like a violation.

"A pleasure, Miss Martins. Chloe has told me... so much about you." His voice was oily, lacking any of the genuine warmth Chloe deserved.

"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Hawthorne," I said, yanking my hand back. I didn't care if I was being rude. I had spent five years protecting myself and Fin; I didn't have time for the wandering hands of a bored aristocrat.

I knew of the Hawthornes. Five years ago, they were the Kingstones' main rivals. Seeing Chloe tied to him felt wrong. It felt like another "merger" disguised as a marriage, the very thing that had made my relationship with Eric so "doomed" to begin with. Our social statuses hadn't just been "different"-they were worlds apart. I was the girl from nowhere, and he was the man who was supposed to marry a Valentine.

I shuddered at the thought of Fin's life being treated like a gamble by people like this. If Eric found out... if he realized that the boy wasn't just a "nephew" but the son we had created during those stolen months of our affair... he would never let us go. He would bring Fin into this den of vipers.

As the evening wound down, the crowd began to thin. This was my chance to escape. I just had to find Chloe, say my goodbyes, and vanish back to the hotel where Fin was waiting. I found her near the grand staircase, but my heart sank when I saw who was standing beside her. Eric.

He had changed out of his blazer, his white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms. He looked relaxed, but his eyes were as sharp as ever.

"Hey, Loe. It's getting late," I said, forcing a smile that felt brittle. "I should head back. My hotel isn't exactly close."

"What? No!" Chloe pouted, grabbing my arm. "Stay here! The estate is huge, and I've already had the guest wing prepared. I won't hear of you staying in some dusty hotel when your best friend is getting married."

"I can't, Chloe. It would be... inappropriate. I don't want to be a bother to your family." I looked at Eric, begging him with my eyes to tell her to let me go.

But Eric stepped forward, the shadows of the foyer playing across the hard planes of his face. "It's not a bother at all, Autumn. In fact, I insist. The Kingstone family is responsible for the guests we invite. It would be quite 'inappropriate' of us to let you wander the streets of London so late at night."

He used the word inappropriate like a weapon, throwing my own excuse back at me. He was mocking me. He knew I was terrified of being under the same roof as him.

"Please, Tummy?" Chloe begged, her eyes wide. "I want to go over the morning schedule with you. I need my maid of honor."

I was trapped. If I refused now, it would only make Eric more suspicious. He would wonder why I was so desperate to get back to a hotel room. He would follow me. And if he followed me, he would find Fin.

"Fine," I whispered, defeated. "If it's truly not a problem."

Chloe squealed and hugged me, but over her shoulder, I felt Eric move. He stepped closer, the scent of him-that familiar, intoxicating mix of power and the past-filling my senses. He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear so Chloe couldn't hear.

"Smart choice, little lamb," he whispered, his voice a low, dangerous vibration that sent a traitorous thrill through my body. "You can't escape the truth in this house. Not when every room reminds you of what you took from me when you ran."

He pulled back, a dark, victorious glint in his eyes. He wasn't just a man I'd had a fling with. He was the man I had loved with every fiber of my being, the man I had shared my bed and my dreams with before the weight of his world crushed us.

"Chloe, show her to the Blue Suite," Eric said, his tone returning to that of the cool, detached billionaire. "I have some final business to attend to in my study."

As Chloe led me away, I looked back once. Eric was standing in the center of the foyer, watching me go. He looked like a king watching a prisoner being led to her cell. I realized then that my return wasn't just a confrontation with the truth-it was a second chance for Eric to claim what he believed was his. And this time, he wouldn't let me run.

I walked up the stairs, my heart a restless whisper. I was back in the Kingston world, back in Eric's orbit.

And tonight, I would be sleeping only a few doors down from the man who still held the pieces of my shattered heart.

The Kingston estate at night was a different beast than it was during the day. When the sun was up, the gold leaf and polished marble screamed of old money and power.

But at night, the house was quiet, and there was no sign of life hidden anywhere in the long, echoing corridors. The silence was heavy, the kind of silence that made you hear your own heartbeat. I felt like an intruder in a museum, a ghost haunting the halls of a life I had walked away from five years ago.

I sat on the edge of the plush bed in the Blue Suite, clutching my phone. I had already sent a text to Sarah, the nanny I'd hired for the trip.

Thankfully, the person I left Fin with was more than understanding. After shooting her a text and explaining the "emergency" that had trapped me at the estate, she had been incredibly graceful. She was a bit more understanding of my plight than most would be, even minus the fact that Fin's father was the very man currently forcing me to be here.

I couldn't stay in the room. The walls felt like they were closing in on me, covered in expensive silk wallpaper that felt like a shroud. I needed to hear my son's voice. I crept out of my room, my bare feet silent on the thick carpet, heading toward what looked like a small, private garden balcony I had spotted earlier. I couldn't take the chance of making such a phone call in my room; the doors were thick, but in a house owned by Eric Kingston, you never knew who was listening. I didn't want anyone catching wind of this-especially not him.

The night air was chilling as I stepped onto the balcony. I saw a message from Sarah. Fin hadn't been able to sleep. He had been crying, asking for me, his little heart confused by my sudden absence. The guilt pierced through me like a physical blade. I dialed her number immediately. The phone rang three times, each tone feeling like an eternity, before it was finally picked up.

"Hi, ma'am," Sarah's voice rang through, tired but patient. In the background, I could hear the distinct, heartbreaking sound of Fin's muffled crying. It was a jagged, gasping sound that made my chest ache.

"Sarah, please, put him on. Let me talk to him," I pleaded, my voice barely a whisper.

I heard the rustle of the phone being moved, Sarah cooing to him, telling him to speak to his mommy.

"Hi there, my baby," I said, cooing into the receiver. The effect was instantaneous. The loud wailing stopped, replaced by soft, hitching sniffles. This had been the longest we had been apart since the day he was born, and the distance felt like an ocean between us.

"Mommy?" he whispered, his voice small and fragile.

I spent the next twenty minutes talking to him, my eyes blurring with tears I refused to let fall. I reassured him over and over that I loved him, trying to make him understand that I would be back soon-that I was just finishing some work for my friend's wedding. He was an extremely obedient child, always trying to be the "big man" I told him he was, but I could hear the note of disappointment in his tone. It broke my heart.

"Okay, I will let you go now. It seems my baby is feeling sleepy," I said, noticing his yawns getting heavier through the line. "I love you, my cutie pie. Sleep tight."

I ended the call as soon as I was sure he was settling down. I stared out at the dark expanse of the Kingston grounds, the manicured hedges looking like monsters in the moonlight. Soon, my baby. Soon, I promised silently.

"Cutie pie? And who exactly is your cutie pie?"

The voice came from directly behind me, deep and smooth like expensive bourbon. I felt nothing but cold sweat pooling at the nape of my neck. My heart stopped, then restarted at a frantic, double-time pace. I turned around, and there he was. Eric.

He was leaning against the stone archway, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, looking far too comfortable in the shadows. Curse my luck. Of all the people to be wandering the halls at midnight, it had to be the one man who could dismantle my entire life with a single phone call.

"Oh... he's my nephew," I stammered, the lie feeling clumsier every time I used it. "We haven't spoken in a while, and I just wanted to check-in."

I didn't wait for him to respond. I didn't want to see the skepticism I knew was etched into his features. With that silly excuse, I bolted. I ran past him, my heart hammering against my ribs, retreating to the safety of the Blue Suite like my life depended on it. In a way, it did. Even as I slammed my door and locked it, I could still feel Eric's glare lingering at the back of my head, a silent promise that he wasn't buying a single word.

Today was the day of the rehearsal dinner, and the air in the estate was thick with a different kind of tension. Chloe and I had spent the afternoon going through the final arrangements, but if I was being honest, it was all Chloe, not me. She was the one who had everything under her absolute control. The plans, the flowers, the seating charts-it was all managed by her and the high-priced coordinator she had hired. I was just there as "decoration," a silent support system for a world I didn't understood.

I didn't understand why the hand-blown wine glasses had to be imported from Norway, or why it was a crisis that her third backup dress from a Paris boutique was a shade off from "eggshell." But I sat there anyway, nodding and showing support, commenting on how lovely everything looked or how gorgeous the centerpieces were every time she pointed at something.

By the time the evening rolled around, I was exhausted. I was currently getting ready in my room. Just like the previous party, Chloe had sent another dress for this one-a deep emerald silk that felt like water against my skin.

God bless her heart; she even offered to have her private maids come and help me get dressed, but I declined. I already felt awful enough being a "charity case" in this house; I didn't need to be waited on like a princess.

I managed to make myself look presentable. I took my clutch, checked my reflection one last time, and stepped out into the hallway, bracing myself to interact with a room full of high-class, pompous snobs. I didn't get five steps before I stopped dead in my tracks.

Eric was standing by the top of the grand staircase, looking like a god in a tailored charcoal suit. My stomach did a somersault. What did he want now? Was he going to try to confront me about the "cutie pie" phone call from last night?

Panic flared in my chest. Maybe I could hide in my room for a bit. If I just stayed behind the door, maybe he would get bored and leave. I didn't have the energy for our usual cat-and-mouse fight right now. I began to slowly, gently back away, my hand reaching for the doorknob.

Crrrk.

The sound of my heel catching on the floorboard echoed like a gunshot in the quiet hall. Fuck my heels. Why the fuck did I choose to wear these tonight? Eric turned, his thoughts interrupted as he acknowledged my presence. I hated when he did that-the way he stared at me like I was worth all the gold and silver in the world. It made my skin feel raw, as if he could see right through the emerald silk and see the terrified girl underneath.

Deciding to break the tension before I suffocated, I cleared my throat. "Good evening, Mr. Kingston."

"Evening, Autumn." He didn't move. He just watched me, his eyes tracking the way my pulse jumped in my neck. It was unsettling.

"Dinner is about to start," I said, trying to nudge him toward the stairs. But Eric refused to take the hint. He seemed perfectly content to see how long he could make me squirm.

"Let's go," he finally said, turning to lead the way.

When we reached the dining hall, the long table was already filled with the Kingston and Hawthorne elite. Eric walked to the head of the table and pulled out the chair directly to his right.

"Sit," he commanded.

I froze. All eyes in the room snapped to me. The silence was deafening. I felt a flush of heat crawl up my face, embarrassed to be the sudden subject of everyone's scrutiny. Why did this man keep doing this? He was marking me in front of his entire family.

"Mr. Kingston, I believe I have a seat arranged further down," I whispered, desperate to create distance. "This place is reserved for family members."

"Yes, Uncle. Tummy already has a place arranged for her," Chloe said, her voice hopeful as she tried to help me escape the nightmare.

"Eric, she is just a... well, as Chloe said, a guest," a woman sitting across from us spoke up. She looked to be in her late forties, radiant and sharp-featured. She was a polished, older version of Chloe, so I presumed this was Eleanor, Chloe's mother. I finally understood why Chloe had never let us meet during our university days. The woman bled arrogance. "Why would you seat a no-name at the family table?"

Eric didn't even look at her. He kept his hand on the back of my chair, his voice steady and cold. "I was the one who told Chloe to invite her. And I am the one who reserved this seat for her. If anyone has a complaint about where she sits, they can deal with me directly."

He dismissed their protests with a finality that shut down the room. We sat, and for a while, dinner went smoothly, if you could call a room full of people glaring at you "smooth." But then, I felt it. Under the table, Eric's palm landed on my thigh.

My breath hitched. My heart was hammered. I expected him to do something crazy, something to shame me, but he didn't. He just gently caressed the silk of my dress, his thumb tracing small circles as he calmly instructed the servers to place more food in front of me, as if he were simply taking care of a cherished guest.

"Eric, dearest little brother," Eleanor continued, her voice dripping with fake sweetness that felt like venom. "Any lead on finding that 'ghost' you've been chasing for five years? Or have you finally decided to settle for whatever is closest at hand?"

The words were a jagged jab. From what I remembered, Eleanor had always been salty that Eric was the successor to the Kingston empire and not her, despite her being the firstborn. She never missed a chance to subtly humiliate him.

Eleanor wasn't finished, though. She kept prodding, her voice rising as she talked about the "sanctity of the family bloodline."

Eric set down his utensils and fixed her with a bored, lethal gaze. He lifted his wine glass, took a slow sip, and set it back down. "Eleanor, my dearest sister. My private matters are none of your concern."

He used the same fake endearment she had, mocking her. "But since we are airing out private matters in front of the help, how is your husband? And more importantly, how is his girlfriend? I heard through the grapevines she recently had another child a couple of months ago. An heir, I presume?"

The table went silent. Eleanor's face turned a violent shade of red, and her husband paled, looking like he wanted to vanish into the floorboards. Eric didn't stop. He twirled his wine glass, his eyes cold. "I wonder whose assets that child will inherit? Because I sure as hell know it won't be mine."

He had completely humiliated both of them in one breath. Then, with a cold smile that didn't reach his eyes, he looked around the table. "Cheers up, everyone. Today is about our little Chloe, not family drama."

I felt a strange mix of fear and relief. I knew then that if a day ever came where Fin was bullied by these people, he would have his father's wicked tongue and absolute power as backup. But that thought only made the secret in my chest feel heavier.