Chapter 23

Chapter 23


Hope’s resolve shone in her eyes. As Noah closed the distance, he reached for her hands, his fingers trembling with relief and lingering fear.

“Noah,” she whispered, allowing him a moment’s warmth. But when he squeezed her wrists too tightly, demanding, “You have to listen to me, Hope,” she recoiled. She kicked his hand away.

“I said I believe you,” she shot back, voice low but fierce. “But you’re not the only one who knows things. Don’t pretend you’ve been in the dark.”

Noah’s face twisted. “What are you talking about?”

Hope leaned forward, every word a blade. “Georgina. Your mother. She knew about the trial‑room glass. She told someone you two were worried about me, more than worried. She told them to make sure I never finished my presentation.”

Noah’s jaw went rigid. His nostrils flared. “How dare you drag my mother’s name into this!”

Penelope, still at the bedside, stood up quickly. “Noah—”

He whirled on her, voice crackling. “Stay out of this, Penelope! This is between my sister and me.”

Penelope’s eyes flashed. “You have no right to speak to her like that.”

Noah took a step forward. “I’ll speak however I damn well please!”

Before anyone could react, his hand shot out and slapped Penelope across the cheek. The sharp crack echoed through the room. Penelope staggered, hand flying to her cheek, tears glinting in her eyes.

Hope shot out of bed, every scrap of weakness forgotten. “Noah!” she cried.

Noah’s chest heaved. He looked at Penelope, then at Hope, as though waking from a fevered dream. “I—”

Penelope sank into the chair, blinking back tears of shock and hurt. “I only spoke because I care about you both,” she whispered.

Hope stepped between them, voice steadier than she felt. “This stops now.” She turned to Noah. “You want to protect your mother’s name? Then help me prove she had no hand in this.”

Noah’s eyes wavered, rage, guilt, love—all colliding. Finally, he bowed his head, voice raw. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”

Hope reached out, gently touching his arm. “Then stand with me. Not for Georgina. Not for the board. For the truth.”

Noah's grip tightened on Hope's hand as the door swung open. Georgina entered, tall and immaculate in a tailored suit, Collette at her side in an elegant sheath dress. Both froze at the sight: Noah clutching Hope’s fingers, Penelope standing protectively nearby.

“Mother,” Noah began, but Georgina’s storm‑steel gaze cut him off.

She advanced, eyes flicking between Hope and her son. “Noah, what is the meaning of this?”

Before he could answer, Collette stepped forward, her voice sharp with indignation. “Noah , don’t you dare touch her!” She jabbed a manicured finger at Hope. “She doesn’t deserve your sympathy—or your protection.”

Noah drew back as if struck. “Collette, shut your mouth!” he snapped. “Hope is my sister. How dare you—”

Collette turned her nose up. “Your sister? She’s nothing but a liability. A scandal waiting to happen.”

Georgina’s lips curved in controlled displeasure. “Collette, enough.” She placed a hand on her fiancé’s arm. “Noah, explain yourself.”

Noah squared his shoulders. “Hope was poisoned. We have evidence someone on the board conspired against her. I’m helping her find the truth.”

Collette laughed, a brittle, hollow sound. “Conspired? You really believe that fairy tale? You’re throwing away everything—our engagement, your career prospects—for her?”

Hope’s pulse quickened. She forced her voice calm. “Collette, please—”

Collette cut her off. “No, you please step away from him. You have no claim here.”

Georgina held up a hand, silencing her. She turned to Hope. “Is this true? Poisoned?”

Penelope stepped forward. “Yes, Mrs. Devereux. Belladonna alkaloid. We’ve secured the trial‑room footage and samples. Someone wanted her out of the running.”

Georgina’s eyes narrowed on Hope, then softened with maternal concern. “Hope, dear, I had no idea.” She glanced at Noah. “Why wasn’t I told?”

Noah looked between them. “Because I wasn’t sure who to trust. But now I know where my loyalties lie.” He faced Collette. “I choose my sister—and the truth—over your ambition.”

Collette’s cheeks flushed. “This is madness.” She turned to Georgina. “Mother, he’s throwing away everything for a gold‑digging opportunist.”

Georgina’s gaze hardened. “Collette, stop.” She stepped between them. “Noah is a Devereux. He protects his family. If Hope is in danger, he will stand by her.”

Collette’s lips pressed into a thin line. She glanced at Noah, hurt and fury warring in her eyes. “Then consider our engagement off,” she spat, and stalked out.

The door clicked softly behind her. Silence stretched.

Georgina exhaled, smoothing her jacket. “I suppose I should apologize, Hope.” She looked at her son. “Noah, you did the right thing.”

Noah’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Thank you, Mother.” He turned to Hope. “I’m sorry you had to face that.”

Hope offered him a small smile. “You stood up for me. That’s enough.”

Georgina regarded them both, her expression inscrutable. “We will get to the bottom of this. Hope, I will use every resource at my disposal to clear your name—and expose whoever did this.”

Hope’s heart swelled. “Thank you.”

Penelope stepped forward, retrieving her phone. “I’ll coordinate with security and legal. We’ll have preliminary findings by tomorrow.”

Georgina nodded approvingly. “Good. And Noah”—she placed a hand on his shoulder—“thank you for reminding me what family means.”

Noah glanced at Hope. “We’ll do this together.”

Hope looked at Georgina, then at her brother. “Then let’s begin.”