Chapter 21 The Cost of Being Seen
Sloane
The sun wasn’t even fully up when I opened my laptop, but the machine was already waiting for me with a long list of demands. My inbox was a battlefield of "Urgent" flags and "High Priority" markers. I sat at my desk in the house, the coffee in my mug long since gone cold, as I scrolled through the latest updates for the family dinner.
It was worse than I thought.
I looked at the seating charts for the private hall in the Hartford Hotel. Names had been shifted, and seats were rearranged. Family allies and distant relatives I barely knew were marked as attending. Then came the menu approvals. I had expected a simple, understated meal to help ease the tension. Instead, the final list showed five courses of the most expensive, showy food imaginable.
Every single decision had been made for me. If this is the engagement dinner, what would the wedding be?
I realized then, with a sharp chill in my chest, that this dinner no longer belonged to me. I was just a figure on top of a cake. I was ceremonial. The details of my own life were being handled by a committee of family members who didn't care what I wanted.
My assistant, Jessica, called me around 8 that morning. Her voice was bright, which only made my headache worse.
"Sloane, it’s all set," she chirped. "I just wanted to let you know that Claire handled the arrangements for the Gold Hall at the hotel. She said you’d be too busy with work to worry about the logistics. She’s even invited a few key board members to 'witness' the family union."
"This was supposed to be a small dinner, Jessica," I said, my voice flat.
"Claire says it needs to be 'significant,'" Jessica said casually. "She says it’s all set. You just have to look happy when you walk in tonight."
I hung up the phone and stared at the wall. The narrative was out of my hands. The pressure felt like a physical weight on my shoulders.
By the time evening rolled around, the house was filled with a thick, heavy silence. I spent a long time in my room, getting ready. The process felt more like building a suit of armor than putting on a dress. I applied my makeup with extra care, making sure my skin looked perfect and my eyes looked sharp. The smell of hairspray hung heavy in the air, a chemical scent that made me feel like I was being preserved in a museum.
I wore a floor-length gown of dark, midnight blue silk. It was beautiful, but it felt like cold water against my skin. The fabric was heavy and tight, making it hard to take a deep breath. Finally, I picked up the Hartford diamonds. The necklace was stunning, but the stones felt like ice against my collarbone. It felt like a leash.
Before leaving, I took one last look in the full-length mirror. I barely recognized the woman staring back. My eyes looked tired despite the expensive concealer, and my smile felt like it was painted on. I thought about Lily for a second. I wondered if she had ever felt this trapped by our name. I grabbed my clutch, turned off the light, and stepped out into the hallway.
Cade was already there.
He was leaning against the railing, dressed in a dark suit that made him look every bit the powerful CEO he was. He looked up when he heard my heels on the hardwood, and for a second, he just stopped. He didn't offer a fake compliment. He just looked at me.
"You look..." He trailed off, shaking his head slightly. "You look ready."
"I feel like a statue," I admitted. I reached up to my neck, fumbling with the clasp of the heavy necklace. It had shifted again. "I can't get this to sit right."
Cade walked over. He didn't hesitate. He stepped into my space, and I could feel the heat coming off him, smelling the familiar scent of his soap and the faint hint of sandalwood.
"Let me help," he said softly.
I stood perfectly still as he reached out. His fingers were large, but they moved with a surprising gentleness. He adjusted the clasp, his knuckles brushing against the skin of my neck. I felt a shiver go down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold air in the house. Neither of us pulled away. For a few seconds, he kept his hands there, making sure the jewelry was perfectly centered.
Then, he reached down and straightened the cuff of my sleeve, his thumb grazing my wrist.
In that moment, in the dim light of the hallway, we felt like a real couple. We weren't talking about Richard or Lily or the investigation. We were just a man and a woman getting ready to go to a difficult dinner. The lie felt incredibly heavy then, because for a split second, I wished it wasn't a lie at all.
I saw him open his mouth. I saw the way his eyes softened. He looked like he was about to say it. He looked like he was about to ask, "Are you okay?" or maybe even, "We don't have to go in there."
I had the same words sitting on my tongue. I wanted to tell him that I was scared. I wanted to tell him that Melissa was watching and that the walls were closing in.
But neither of us said a word. I realized then that some truths only survive because no one says them out loud. If we admitted how we felt, we wouldn't be able to walk through those doors.
The silence between us was fragile. If we spoke the truth, the whole plan would shatter. We couldn't afford to be human right now. We had to be couple that we needed to be.
“Ready?”, he said.
“Ready”, I lied.
The drive to the Hartford Hotel was short, but it felt like it lasted for hours. We sat in the back of the car in a tense, heavy silence. Outside the window, the city lights blurred into long streaks of yellow and white. I watched the people on the sidewalks. Just normal people going to normal dinners. And felt a pang of jealousy.
Cade stared out his own window, his jaw set tight. He looked like he was bracing for a fight. Every time the car hit a bump, the diamonds on my neck clinked together, a small, metallic sound that seemed loud in the quiet car. We were two people sitting inches apart, yet we felt miles away from each other. The ticking clock on the dashboard was the only sound, counting down the minutes until we had to start the show.
As we pulled into the private parking circle of the hotel, I saw the familiar gold logo of my family’s flagship building. This wasn't a public stage with cameras, but it felt even more dangerous. Inside the Gold Hall were the people who knew me, the ones who would be looking for any sign that we were faking it.
As we walked through the lobby, I noticed the employees. Usually, they would nod or say "Good evening, Miss. Hartford." Tonight, they stopped what they were doing and stared. I could see the whispers starting before we even reached the elevators. They looked at me with a mix of curiosity and awe, as if I were a different person now that I was engaged to a Whitmore. My privacy was gone.
I stood in front of the Gold Hall doors for a second, my heart racing. I felt the weight of a dozen family legacies on my shoulders.
Cade got down and stood out beside me. He didn't look at the building. He looked at me. He held out his arm, his suit sleeve crisp and dark.
My hand hovered in the air. For a heartbeat, I paused. I felt the urge to turn around, to get back into the car and tell him to just keep driving. But if I didn't take his arm, they would see the crack in the armor before we even sat down. The engagement would be questioned. The investigation would end.
I took his arm. I felt the solid strength of him through the fabric. I leaned into him, putting on a practiced smile as we walked toward the heavy, gilded doors of the hall.