Chapter 207

Chapter 207
Claire's POV

I held Daniel's arm as we stepped out of the restaurant into the cool Seattle night. The evening air brushed against my face, a welcome relief after the intimate atmosphere inside. The city lights sparkled below us, reflecting on the water of Lake Union. Daniel walked close beside me, his body heat warming my side in the chilly evening.

"So," I said, breaking our comfortable silence. "Are you aware that Dr. Megan has feelings for you?"

Daniel's step faltered slightly before he regained his rhythm. "I suspected it. But I only confirmed it the day before yesterday when she walked in on us in the office."

I glanced up at him. "That's why you insisted on having dinner with her tonight? To make it clear you're taken?"

"Partly," he admitted. "I also genuinely wanted to thank her for her help with that student's injury. But yes, I thought it would be better if she saw us together."

We turned onto a quieter path along the lake. The moonlight cast shadows across the water, creating a beautiful but somewhat melancholic scene.

"Why didn't you mention her feelings to me earlier?" I asked.

Daniel sighed, his breath forming a small cloud in the cool air. "I maintain professional boundaries, Claire. I didn't want to make assumptions or create unnecessary tension at work."

"Professional boundaries," I repeated, unable to keep the edge from my voice. "Some might interpret that as keeping your options open."

"Is that what you think?" Daniel stopped walking and turned to face me. His eyes held mine, intense and unwavering in the dim light.

"No," I admitted. "But it crossed my mind."

"Are you jealous, honey?" A small smile played at the corner of his mouth.

"I don't get jealous," I countered, pulling him back into motion. "I'm merely pointing out that your precious 'professional image' could be misinterpreted as interest."

"Noted," he said, his tone lighter now. "Next time a colleague develops feelings for me, you'll be the first to know."

"There better not be a next time," I muttered, making him chuckle.

We reached Daniel's car, and he opened the passenger door for me. Once inside, I watched him walk around to the driver's side, admiring the confident way he moved. When he slid into his seat, I reached for his hand, my fingers finding his wedding band.

"I've been thinking," I said, rubbing my thumb over the smooth metal. "We should have a proper wedding ceremony. At the Stanton estate."

Daniel's fingers tensed slightly under mine. "I thought we agreed to keep things simple."

"We did. And we have," I said, still playing with his ring. "But my family expects a ceremony. The board expects it. It would help solidify your position."

"My position?" Daniel turned to look at me, his expression guarded. "As what, exactly?"

I met his gaze. "As my husband. Officially. Publicly."

Daniel exhaled slowly, looking out at the darkened lake. "Will there be reporters? Society pages? The whole Stanton spectacle?"

"It can be small," I promised. "Intimate. Just family and close friends."

"In Stanton terms, that's still what—a hundred people?" He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't need a ceremony to know we're married, Claire."

"I know you don't," I said softly. "But the world we live in... my family's world... it expects certain things."

Daniel was quiet for a long moment. I could almost see the conflict in his eyes—his desire to make me happy warring with his discomfort with publicity and family politics.

"Alright," he finally said. "A small ceremony. But I have conditions."

"Name them."

"No more than fifty people. No press. And I want it sooner rather than later." His eyes met mine, intense and determined. "I'm not waiting six months while your family plans some elaborate event."

I smiled, leaning over to kiss him softly. "Deal."

Over the next few days, I called family members to share our wedding plans. The reactions were exactly as I'd anticipated. Thomas and Hannah offered perfunctory congratulations, their voices laced with obvious disinterest. Alexander, surprisingly, was enthusiastic, offering to help with arrangements. Nathan remained silent for so long after my announcement that I thought we'd been disconnected, before finally offering a terse "Congratulations" and mentioning his heavy course load might prevent his attendance.

Jessica was the most difficult. She squealed with excitement, launching immediately into plans for flowers and decorations.

"I know this amazing wedding planner who did my friend's ceremony in the Hamptons," she gushed. "I'll call her right away."

"That won't be necessary," I interrupted firmly. "We're keeping it simple. Daniel and I have already made most of the arrangements."

Her disappointment was palpable, but I remained firm. This was our wedding, not another Stanton social event for her to orchestrate.

Three days later, my mother flew in from London. I hadn't expected her until the following week, so I was surprised when Emily told me Margaret was waiting in my office. When I arrived, she was standing by the window, looking out at the Seattle skyline.

"Mother," I greeted her. "This is unexpected."

She turned, immaculately dressed as always in a tailored Chanel suit. "Claire, darling. I thought we should talk in person."

My eyes fell to the thick folder on my desk. "What's that?"

"Some additions to the prenuptial agreement," she said, her voice casual as if discussing the weather. "Just a few clauses your father and I feel should be addressed before the ceremony."

I picked up the folder and flipped through it. Sixty-eight pages of legal language. "Isn't this a bit excessive for someone who's already legally married?"

Mother's eyebrows rose slightly. "It's never too late to protect family interests."

As I scanned the document, one particular clause caught my eye. "A fertility provision?" I looked up at her in disbelief. "Requiring the first child to be male to secure the bloodline? Mother, this is medieval."

"It's practical," she countered. "The Stanton name needs to continue."

"And what if nature doesn't cooperate with your plans?" I tossed the folder back onto my desk. "Should I apologize for having a daughter instead of a son?"

Mother sighed. "You're being dramatic, Claire."

"No, I'm being realistic." I crossed my arms. "Daniel and I will have children when we're ready, and we'll love them regardless of their gender."

Mother studied me for a moment. "You've changed, Claire."

"Have I?" I moved to sit behind my desk, putting distance between us. "Or have I finally started making my own decisions?"

"I just want what's best for you."

"No," I said quietly. "You want what's best for the Stanton name."

A tense silence stretched between us. Finally, Mother sighed and sat in the chair across from me. "I hear Beau's company is doing well in Boston."

The sudden change of topic caught me off guard. "Is it? I wouldn't know."

"Don't play naive, Claire. It doesn't suit you." She smoothed her skirt. "I know you've been keeping tabs on him."

I leaned back in my chair. "Just as you've been keeping tabs on Daniel's every move."

"A mother worries."

"So does a daughter." I held her gaze steadily. "Especially one who knows her mother is involved with a man who stands to inherit millions if she remarries."

Mother's composure slipped for just a moment. "How did you—"

"I have resources too." I smiled thinly. "Father's restrictions on your remarriage are quite specific, aren't they? All those Stanton shares you'd have to surrender."

"That's different," she insisted.

"Is it? You're worried about Daniel's motives, yet you're involved with a man who benefits financially from your continued single status."

Mother's lips pressed into a thin line. "You've become quite ruthless."

"I learned from the best." I stood up, signaling the end of our conversation. "The irony is that I supposedly own Stanton Group, yet it seems to own me. Every decision, every relationship is scrutinized through the lens of company benefit."

"That's the price of power, Claire."

I walked to the door and opened it. "Maybe. But here's something you didn't know: Daniel and I already got married at the courthouse months ago. This ceremony is just for show."

Mother's shocked expression gave me a small, vindictive satisfaction as I closed the door behind her.