Chapter 81 To Throw A Party
Hannah
By the time the sun rises, I’ve already been awake for hours.
My notebook lies open beside me, now filled with arrows, bullet points, backup plans, crossed-out ideas, and frantic underlines.
I have a list.
I love a list.
Step one: secure venue space at home, a subtle setup in the west lounge.
Step two: cake (not pistachio, obviously).
Step three: gift pickup.
Step four: minimal guest coordination.
Step five: execution.
I sit cross-legged on my bed with my phone pressed to my ear.
“Yes, delivery by six would be perfect,” I say, scribbling confirmation details. “Nothing flashy. Elegant. Understated.”
Understated.
Because God forbid we wound Timothy with joy.
I make three more calls; to a bakery, florist, a small custom print shop that had miraculously agreed to rush something overnight for me. By the time I hang up the last one, my voice is hoarse but my adrenaline is humming.
This will work.
It has to.
I shower quickly, pull on something simple but polished, and head downstairs.
Timothy is at the dining table, jacket on, phone pressed to his ear.
“Yes, move the review to Friday if necessary,” he’s saying, voice clipped and efficient. “No, I don’t care what it costs.”
There’s half-finished toast on his plate. Coffee already nearly empty.
I slide into my seat quietly and serve myself breakfast, listening to the low cadence of his corporate voice while my brain screams:
It’s your birthday.
He ends the call a minute later and exhales, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
His eyes find me.
There’s that softness again.
“Morning.”
“Morning,” I reply, probably too somber.
He studies me. “You okay?”
“Yes.”
Too quick.
He leans back slightly. “You’ve been… off since yesterday.”
Because you didn’t tell me it’s your birthday.
Because you planned to disappear.
Because I planned everything.
“I’m fine,” I say, pushing eggs around my plate.
He hesitates. “Should I wait? We can go together. I’ll drop you off.”
My instinct is to say yes. To sit in the car beside him and pretend none of this bothers me.
But I need the day.
“No thanks,” I say lightly. “You can go.”
He doesn’t move immediately.
Something flickers in his expression.
“Okay,” he says finally.
He checks his watch.
And then, casually, like he’s discussing the weather:
“I don’t think I’ll make it back in time for dinner. Or tonight at all.”
My fork pauses mid-air.
“…Why?”
“There’s a corporate issue I need to handle. It might run late. Possibly overnight.”
Overnight.
On your birthday.
The words lodge in my throat.
“Oh,” I say.
He nods once, almost awkwardly. “Don’t wait up.”
Don’t wait up.
I stare at him.
He grabs his briefcase. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Bye,” I manage.
He leaves.
And I sit there, staring at the doorway long after it closes.
You absolute…
I bite back the insult.
He didn’t tell me it’s his birthday.
He planned not to come home.
Despite everything.
Despite….
No.
No.
I refuse.
I push my plate away and stand.
Operation Secret Party is not collapsing because he’s emotionally allergic to celebration.
I march upstairs and pace my room, notebook clutched in hand.
He thinks he’s staying away?
We’ll see about that.
I didn’t even tell him I took the day off.
Because I did.
I glance at Momo.
He blinks at me.
“Field mission,” I tell him.
He wags his tail.
I grab my bag, my notebook, and his leash.
“Let’s go.”
———-
The car ride into town feels like a covert operation.
I inform the driver of our first destination; the print shop and text Sienna and Rowan simultaneously:
>Code red. He thinks he’s not coming home tonight.
Rowan responds immediately: >Oh, he’s coming home.
>Good.
By noon, I’m running on caffeine and determination.
I confirm the cake, dark chocolate with subtle gold detailing. No giant candles. Just one sleek metallic “happy birthday” plaque.
I pick up the custom gift I ordered late last night.
It’s simple.
A leather-bound journal embossed with his initials, T.B. and inside the first page, I had something engraved:
“For the man who never stops thinking; may this be the place you think about yourself.”
It feels… right.
Personal without being romantic.
Thoughtful without being overwhelming.
I also stop by a small boutique and grab a tailored navy tie I know will match his favorite suit.
By late afternoon, I’m back at the estate, coordinating with Lisa in hushed tones.
“We’ll keep it in the west lounge,” I tell her. “Low lighting. Candles. Nothing gaudy.”
Lisa smiles approvingly. “Understood.”
Rowan arrives just before five.
“Is the man still pretending today doesn’t exist?” he asks.
“Apparently he’s planning to live at the office tonight.”
Rowan snorts. “Not on my watch.”
We set up quickly, a small table, subtle flowers, the cake placed elegantly in the center. Just a handful of people invited. No crowd.
Intimate.
Intentional.
By six, everything is ready.
Except one thing.
The painting.
I slip upstairs to the studio and uncover the canvas I’d left unfinished.
It’s a landscape.
Not random.
The orchard.
The peach tree.
Two faint silhouettes lying beneath it.
You’d only notice if you looked closely.
I tie on my apron and pick up the brush.
This part matters most.
I work carefully, layering color, adjusting light, refining edges. The room grows quiet around me. Time blurs.
By the time I step back, my hands are streaked with paint and the sky outside the windows has deepened to twilight.
It’s done.
I let it dry just enough before carefully wrapping it.
I change into something elegant but not overdone. A soft cream blouse, dark trousers, subtle gold earrings. Effortless but intentional.
I carry the painting downstairs and find Lisa.
“Can you hang this in his room?” I whisper. “Cover it. Don’t let him see.”
She nods.
I exhale slowly.
One last thing.
I scan the foyer until I find the head of Timothy’s security detail.
Ace.
Tall. Unreadable. Always three steps behind.
“Ace,” I call quietly.
He strides over instantly. “Ma’am.”
“I need a favor.”
His expression doesn’t change.
“What do you require?”
I glance toward the door.
Time for the final part of the plan.
“He’s not staying at the office tonight,” I say firmly.
Ace’s eyebrow lifts just slightly.
“And I need your help making sure of that.”