Chapter 183

Chapter 183
Hannah's POV

A soft knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts as I sat at the vanity, smoothing my hair one last time. After greeting only a handful of guests downstairs, Finn had insisted I return to our room to rest. "You just gave birth," he'd murmured near my ear, his hand protective at my waist. "Don't push yourself too hard. Come back down when the dinner officially begins."

Though I'd protested I felt fine, the concern in his eyes was unmistakable, and I'd relented. Now I was touching up my makeup in the crimson gown I'd chosen that complemented my pale skin without looking too formal—giving my body the brief respite it probably needed before rejoining tonight's event.

"Hannah?" Clara's voice came through the door. "It's time."

When I opened the door, I was surprised to find Clara dressed in an elegant black pantsuit, her hair pulled back in a sleek bun.

"You look beautiful," I said, genuinely impressed by her transformation.

Clara gave me a tight smile, gesturing toward the hallway. "Finn is waiting. The guests have all arrived."

As I stepped into the hallway, Clara fell into step behind me rather than leading the way. This seemed odd, so I glanced back at her with a questioning look.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

Clara cleared her throat, her eyes darting around as if checking for eavesdroppers. "Still can't see it, can you?" she muttered, not quite under her breath. "Finn wants to give you status."

"What do you mean?"

She sighed, clearly uncomfortable. "Look, in this world, how you're presented matters. Who walks in front of who, who follows behind—it all sends a message." She gestured to herself. "Still don't get it? Finn's giving you backup. Making a statement."

As we approached the grand staircase, I noticed something strange. More Sterling family members seemed to be gathering behind us, creating what felt like a procession. Clara wasn't the only one—there were cousins, family friends, and even some board members I recognized from company photos.

One of the elderly women, who I'd been told was Finn's great-aunt, nodded respectfully as she joined the group behind me. "Mrs. Sterling," she said, the formal address making my cheeks flush.

A distinguished-looking man in his sixties—some senior executive whose name I couldn't recall—bowed his head slightly. "A pleasure to see you this evening, Mrs. Sterling. The crimson suits you perfectly."

One by one, they joined what was now clearly a formal procession. Clara stayed closest to me, occasionally touching my elbow to guide me, but always maintaining a respectful distance.

As we reached the top of the grand staircase, I could see the massive ballroom below, filled with hundreds of guests in formal attire. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over everything, and a string quartet played softly in the corner. The conversations below dimmed as heads turned upward.

From the corner of my eye, I spotted Sophia standing with a group of glamorous women. Her smile was fixed, but her eyes were cold as ice as she watched me descend with my unexpected entourage. One of her friends whispered something, and Sophia's face tightened further.

My heart hammered in my chest as I took the first step down. I'd never been the center of attention like this, especially not at a Sterling event. The staircase seemed to stretch endlessly, each step requiring careful concentration so I wouldn't trip.

Then I saw him.

Finn stood at the bottom of the staircase, dressed in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo. His hair was combed back, revealing the strong lines of his face. His posture was relaxed yet commanding, and despite the crowd, his focus was entirely on me. There was something different about his expression—a softness around his eyes that contrasted with his usual intensity.

As I reached the final steps, Finn extended his hand. Without hesitation, I placed my fingers on his palm, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine. A current seemed to pass between us, and for a moment, the crowded ballroom faded away.

"You're late," he said, but there was no edge to his voice.

"Worth the wait?" I asked, surprising myself with my boldness.

The corner of his mouth twitched upward. "Always."

Jackson, the head butler, stepped forward and cleared his throat. "Ladies and gentlemen," his voice projected across the ballroom, "Mr. Finn Sterling has prepared a special gift for his wife this evening."

A murmur of interest rippled through the crowd. Finn's gift-giving was apparently unusual enough to warrant attention.

Brian appeared at my side, flashing his trademark charming smile. "This way, Hannah," he said, leading me through the parting crowd toward the center of the ballroom.

In the middle of the floor stood something large, covered with blue silk that shimmered under the chandelier lights. From the shape, I could tell it was a piano, though unusually contoured.

Finn nodded at me. "Go ahead."

With trembling fingers, I reached for the edge of the silk cover. The fabric was cool and slipped easily through my fingers as I pulled it away, revealing a gleaming black grand piano.

But it wasn't an ordinary piano. The entire lid was covered in a mosaic of pearls—thousands of them in varying shades of white, cream, pink, and black. They formed an image that took my breath away: my own face, rendered in perfect detail, my expression serene and beautiful in a way I'd never seen myself.

"Six million pearls," Brian announced proudly to the stunned crowd. "Finn placed each one himself. Took him two months."

The ballroom erupted in applause. I stood frozen, staring at this incredible creation, this labor of love that must have required countless hours of painstaking work. I turned to look at Finn, who stood a few feet away, watching my reaction with that same slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

His eyes held none of their usual coldness or calculation—just a flash of something that looked almost like pride, or perhaps even happiness.

"Do you like it?" he asked quietly when I approached him, his voice barely audible over the continuing applause.

I couldn't find words adequate to express what I was feeling. This man, who everyone called dangerous and unpredictable, had spent months creating something beautiful for me. Not buying it, not ordering it—creating it with his own hands.

"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," I whispered, blinking back tears.

Finn's smile widened just a fraction, satisfaction evident in his expression. As the guests crowded around to admire his handiwork, he remained slightly apart, watching me rather than the gift he'd created—as if my reaction was the real masterpiece he wanted to admire.