Chapter 63

Cecilia

The morning light was harsh against my eyelids, dragging me out of sleep with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. I reached for Arthur instinctively, but his side of the bed was cold, the sheets already pulled back.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand—once, twice, then continuously, the vibrations creating a staccato rhythm that made my stomach clench with dread.

I grabbed it, squinting at the screen. Fifteen missed calls. Twenty-three text messages. And they were still coming.

What the hell?

The first text was from Alice: Ceci, turn on the news. NOW.

My hands were shaking as I pulled up the news app, and the headline hit me like a physical blow:

WINSTON HEIR ABANDONS FIANCÉE FOR FORMER WARD: INAPPROPRIATE RELATIONSHIP EXPOSED

"Fuck." The word came out breathless, barely audible.

I scrolled down, my vision blurring as I read the article:

Sources close to the Winston family confirm that Arthur Winston walked out of his grandmother's 85th birthday celebration last night after a heated confrontation regarding his relationship with Cecilia Locke. Miss Locke, who was placed under Winston's guardianship at age nine following her father's death, has been romantically involved with her former guardian for an undisclosed period of time.

Madison Hartley, 26, daughter of prominent investor Blake Hartley, was reportedly devastated by the public rejection. Sources say an engagement between Winston and Hartley had been in discussions for months, with contracts nearly finalized before Winston abruptly ended negotiations.

"It's disgusting," said one anonymous source close to the Winston family. "She was a child in his care. Now she's destroyed his engagement and caused a rift in one of the most respected families on the East Coast."

The article continued, each paragraph more damaging than the last, painting me as a manipulative seductress who'd wormed my way into Arthur's life and destroyed his future. They'd dug up everything—my father's death, my mother's abandonment, the fact that I'd been "shuffled between guardians" before Arthur took me in.

They made it sound like I was some kind of orphan charity case who'd repaid Arthur's kindness by seducing him.

My phone rang—Arthur's name flashing on the screen—and I answered without thinking.

"Don't read it," he said immediately, his voice tight with controlled fury. "Whatever you're reading right now, stop. It's all lies, Ceci. All of it."

I heard movement on his end, the sound of a door closing.

"I'm at the office. There are reporters outside—at least a dozen of them. They're asking about Madison, about you, about whether I 'abandoned my fiancée' for my former ward."The way he said 'former ward' was dripping with contempt for whoever had fed the press that particular angle.

"What did you tell them?" I asked.

"Nothing. I had security escort them off the property." He paused, and I heard him take a breath. "But Ceci, this isn't going to stop. My mother, my grandmother, Madison—they're coordinating this. Using the press to—"

"To destroy me," I finished quietly. "Yeah. I figured."

"To destroy us," he corrected fiercely. "But they're not going to succeed. I'm handling it."

"How?" I sat up, pulling the sheet around myself. "Arthur, they're calling me a seductress. They're implying that you—that we—"

"I know what they're implying." His voice turned dangerous. "And I'm going to make them regret it."

There was a knock on his end, and I heard Ethan's muffled voice: "Sir, your uncle is here."

"I have to go," Arthur said. "But Ceci? Stay home today. Don't go to the office, don't talk to any reporters, don't—"

"I'm not hiding," I interrupted.

"I'm not asking you to hide. I'm asking you to be safe." His voice softened. "Please. Just for today. Let me handle this."

I wanted to argue, wanted to tell him I didn't need protecting, that I could face the press and the gossip and all of it. But the exhaustion in his voice stopped me.

"Okay," I said finally. "Just for today."

"Thank you." Relief flooded his tone. "I love you."

"I love you too."

After we hung up, I sat there for a long moment, staring at my phone, at the notifications that kept piling up. Then I did what I always did when things got overwhelming—I opened my laptop and got to work.

If Margaret, Irene, and Madison wanted to play dirty, fine. But they were about to learn that I played dirtier.

Arthur

My uncle, Richard Brahmore, sat across from my desk with the kind of casual confidence that came from forty years of manipulating corporate boards and family politics.

He was my mother's younger brother, which made him technically family, but he'd always been more interested in profit than sentiment.

"Arthur," he said, crossing one leg over the other. "I assume this is about the rather... inflammatory articles circulating this morning?"

"It's about my grandmother orchestrating a smear campaign against my girlfriend," I said flatly. "Using the press to paint Cecilia as some kind of opportunistic gold-digger who seduced her guardian."

Richard's expression didn't change. "And you want me to convince my mom to call off her dogs?"

"Yes."

"Why would I do that?" He tilted his head, genuinely curious. "From where I'm sitting, she's simply trying to protect the family's interests. This girl—Cecilia—she's causing quite a bit of trouble, isn't she?"

"Cecilia," I said, my voice dropping to something dangerous, "is the woman I'm going to marry. And anyone who tries to destroy her is going to have to go through me first. Including you."

Richard's eyebrows rose. "Marriage? My, you are serious about this."

"Deadly serious."

He studied me for a long moment, his fingers steepled under his chin. "You know, Arthur, I've always liked you. You remind me of myself at your age—ambitious, determined, willing to make the hard choices. But you're making a mistake here."

"Am I?"

"Yes." He leaned forward. "This girl has no connections, no family worth mentioning, no social capital. She brings nothing to the table except scandal and headaches. Whereas Madison Hartley—"

"Is a stalker who broke into my bedroom and attacked Cecilia," I interrupted coldly. "But please, continue telling me about what a wonderful match she'd be."

Richard's expression flickered—surprise, maybe, or recalculation. "Is that what happened at the villa?"

"That's exactly what happened. And the fact that my mother and grandmother are still pushing for this 'alliance' tells me everything I need to know about their priorities."

"Which are?"

"Control," I said. "They want to control who I marry, how I run the company, what kind of life I lead. And I'm done letting them."

Richard was quiet for a moment. Then he smiled.

"Alright," he said. "Let's say I believe you about Madison. Let's say I'm willing to help you with Margaret. What's in it for me?"

There it was. The real negotiation.