Chapter 267 Do You Have an Invitation?

Chapter 267 Do You Have an Invitation?

Matthew didn't turn around.

"None of your business."

Dashiell walked over and stopped two steps behind him.

"How long have you been standing here?"

Matthew didn't answer.

Dashiell glanced at the two cigarette butts on the ground near Matthew's feet, then at the dust on the knees of his suit pants.

He must've slid down the wall at some point and crouched there.

"Matthew, I'm going to say something you won't want to hear."

"When have you ever said anything I wanted to hear?"

Dashiell let that one go.

"You standing here—she won't know. And even if she did, it wouldn't change a damn thing just because you stayed out here all night."

Only then did Matthew turn around.

He looked at Dashiell, his gaze finally settling on the clip holding the invitation to his chest.

A silver clasp engraved with the Hubbard family crest.

The identification mark for invited guests.

Matthew's throat worked.

"Dashiell, do you really think standing next to her makes you worthy?"

Dashiell looked up at him.

"You were her husband for three years. Were you ever worthy?"

The air went dead. Two seconds passed before either of them breathed again.

The muscle in Matthew's jaw jumped.

Dashiell didn't wait for an answer. He adjusted his cuffs and turned toward the main entrance.

He took two steps, then stopped without looking back.

"Matthew, the people you never valued—don't expect anyone else to keep them waiting for you."

With that, he walked into the hall. Craig checked his credentials at the door, nodded, and stepped aside.

Matthew stood there, watching the door swing shut behind him.

Nico stepped up beside him and said quietly, "Mr. Gonzalez, maybe we should head back."

Matthew didn't move.

"Not leaving."

He leaned back against the pillar, his gaze locked through the narrow gap in the side door toward the heart of the hall.

Nine o'clock sharp.

The lights in the hall dimmed for a moment, then came back up softer than before.

The music shifted to strings, slow and deliberate, with a ceremonial weight to it.

Every guest set down their glass and turned toward the spiral staircase on the second floor.

Dwayne stood at the top of the stairs on the left, Nova on the right.

Both extended their hands at the same time.

Abigail emerged from the side hall on the second floor.

She wore a champagne-colored gown, the fabric light and flowing, the hem swaying with each step. Her hair wasn't pinned up but fell over her shoulders, with only a small pearl clip tucked behind her ear.

No heavy makeup. No flashy jewelry.

The entire hall went silent.

When she reached the top of the stairs, light fell from directly above, illuminating her face.

Sophia's hand froze mid-sip.

Dashiell stood in the crowd, looking up.

Chris set down his glass, his eyes fixed on the figure slowly descending.

Sawyer sat in an armchair near the main table, watching her come down step by step, saying nothing.

Ethan stood at the bottom of the stairs, hands behind his back, a faint smile on his lips.

He extended his right hand.

Abigail reached the last step and placed her hand in his.

Ethan took it and led her to the center of the hall.

"Everyone," his voice wasn't loud, but it carried to every corner of the room.

"Twenty-five years ago, my sister was lost. Twenty-five years later, she's come home."

He paused and turned to Abigail beside him.

"From today on, her name is Abigail Hubbard."

Applause erupted from all sides.

Nova stood nearby, tears already streaming down her face. Dwayne had his arm around her shoulders, his own eyes red-rimmed.

Abigail stood in the center of the hall, the light stretching her shadow across the floor.

She didn't cry.

She just stood there, looking at the faces before her, one by one.

This was the first time in twenty-five years she had a complete family.

Outside the side door.

Matthew watched through the crack.

She wore a champagne-colored gown, standing under the lights, surrounded by her father, mother, and brother.

She was smiling.

It was a small smile, barely there, but it was real.

Nico stood beside him, not daring to speak.

Matthew watched for a long time.

Not until the lights brightened again and the guests began to disperse did he slowly release his grip on the doorframe.

His fingertips bore deep red marks.

Inside the hall.

Chris emerged from the crowd, holding a small box.

Black velvet, with a clasp no bigger than a fingernail. Clearly expensive.

He walked up to Abigail and opened it.

Inside was a bracelet. A thin silver chain with three small gemstones threaded through the middle, their color subtle, catching the light just so.

"This is for you," Chris lifted the bracelet from the box. "A little something to mark you coming home."

Abigail looked at the bracelet and extended her right hand.

Chris lowered his head, wrapped the chain around her wrist, and fastened the clasp with practiced fingers, clicking it twice into place.

His movements were smooth, like he'd done this a hundred times.

"Does it look good?" he asked.

Abigail turned her wrist, the bracelet catching the light.

"It's beautiful. Thank you, Chris."

Sophia walked over with a glass of juice, caught the tail end of the moment, and grinned.

"You prepared this gift pretty early, huh? When I was snooping through your study last week, I saw it and thought it was for someone's birthday. Turns out it was for Abigail."

Chris shot her a look. "Say less."

Sophia stuck out her tongue and leaned in next to Abigail to admire the bracelet.

"Really pretty. My brother's got decent taste."

Abigail smiled, her gaze drifting casually before it stopped.

She noticed something on Chris's left wrist.

A watch. She recognized the scratch on the dial—it was the one she'd given him last month.

When she was in the hospital, Chris had stopped by and mentioned offhand that his watch strap had broken.

The next day, she'd had Sophia bring him a new one. It wasn't expensive, but she'd had a message engraved on the back.

Chris was wearing that watch right now.

Abigail looked at it, her smile deepening slightly, but she said nothing.

Chris noticed her gaze, glanced down at his wrist, and smiled.

"Something you gave me—of course I wear it every day."

Sophia overheard and rolled her eyes. "What about the scarf I gave you? Is that stuffed at the bottom of your closet?"

"That's different," Chris said flatly.

"How is it different?"

Their bickering mixed with the soft background music. Abigail stood beside them, listening, warmth spreading slowly through her chest.

She turned her head and looked toward the other side of the hall.

Ethan was talking with several guests, Craig standing behind him.

Nova sat on the sofa, clutching a tissue. Dwayne sat beside her, their hands close together.

These were her family.

All of them.

She was about to turn back when something in her peripheral vision caught her attention—the direction of the side door.

The gap was narrow, barely showing anything beyond it.

Her gaze lingered there for a second.

Then she looked away and picked up her glass.

Sophia leaned in and asked quietly, "Abigail, what were you looking at just now?"

Abigail took a sip of wine and set the glass down.

"Nothing."

She paused.

"Just thinking... some people are standing in the wrong place and still haven't figured it out."

Sophia followed her earlier line of sight. The area by the side door was dark. Nothing visible.

"Is someone there?"