Chapter 2 - THE MAN BEHIND THE CROWDAugust Ellington did not look at Genevieve first.
He looked at Maris.
His daughter.
Eight years had changed him.
His hair was now almost entirely silver. The lines around his eyes were deeper. His shoulders remained straight, but age had begun to touch the powerful frame Maris remembered from childhood.
At seventy-two, August still possessed the sort of presence that made executives stop speaking when he entered a boardroom.
Tonight it was not corporate authority that made the guests quiet.
It was recognition.
August Ellington owned Seabrook Crown Estate.
He controlled Ellington Holdings, a private real-estate and infrastructure empire with developments across Florida, Georgia, Texas, and the Carolinas.
More importantly to this room, he was the man half the guests wanted something from.
Genevieve understood that better than anyone.
“Mr. Ellington…”
August still did not look at her.
His gaze went to Eden.
Something in his face broke.
Maris saw it.
A tiny movement.
Almost invisible.
Her father was seeing his granddaughter in person for the first time.
Eden stared at him with the solemn suspicion babies reserved for strangers.
August’s jaw tightened.
Then he noticed the wine.
His expression changed again.
“Are you hurt?”
Maris almost laughed.
“No.”
“Eden?”
“Fine.”
Only then did August turn toward Genevieve.
“Who told you my daughter was beneath you?”
Genevieve swallowed.
“I didn’t know—”
August’s voice remained quiet.
“That is not an answer.”
“I misunderstood who she was.”
Maris felt something inside her harden.
August noticed.
“So your behavior would have been acceptable if she were somebody else?”
Genevieve’s face became red.
“No, sir.”
“Then her name is irrelevant.”
That surprised Maris.
The August she remembered cared deeply about names.
Ellington.
Prescott.
Harrington.
People were always measured in relation to family.
Perhaps age had changed him.
Or perhaps he had learned some things too late.
Genevieve looked around desperately.
Her parents were across the ballroom.
Her father, Harrison Rothwell, had begun moving toward them.
August lifted one hand.
Harrison stopped.
That simple gesture told Maris everything about the power balance in the room.
Genevieve whispered:
“Please let me apologize.”
August looked at Maris.
Not her.
Maris understood.
For once, he was not deciding whether an apology was sufficient.
She was.
Genevieve turned.
“Maris, I’m sorry.”
Maris looked at the wine spreading across her dress.
“For what?”
Genevieve blinked.
“The wine.”
“Only the wine?”
Silence.
“For embarrassing you.”
“Try again.”
Genevieve’s eyes flickered with humiliation.
“For how I spoke to you.”
Maris adjusted Eden.
“And why did you speak to me that way?”
Genevieve said nothing.
Maris nodded.
“That’s what I thought.”
She turned toward the nearest exit.
August moved as if to follow.
Maris stopped him with one look.
Eight years disappeared.
She was twenty-one again.
Standing in another room.
Telling him he did not control her.
August stopped.
Maris walked away.
Eden safely against her chest.
Wine dripping from her dress.
Guests parting before her.
Behind her, whispers spread immediately.
“His daughter?”
“I thought she was gone.”
“Wasn’t she disinherited?”
“Is that Maris Ellington?”
Genevieve heard every word.
So did August.
Julian Ellington stood near the far end of the ballroom, holding a champagne glass he had not touched in twenty minutes.
He was August’s nephew.
And for the last several years, the man nearly everyone assumed would inherit the Ellington empire.
He watched Maris disappear through the doorway.
Then saw August turn toward him.
Their eyes met.
August crossed the room slowly.
Julian knew the question before it came.
“You knew she was here.”
Julian did not lie.
“Yes.”
August’s eyes went cold.
“And you watched.”
Julian swallowed.
“Yes.”
May you like
August stared at him.
For the first time in years, Julian wondered whether everything he believed belonged to him had just changed.
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