Chapter 81
Elizabeth's POV
I watched Charles approach with that infuriatingly calm expression of his. The Wilson estate gardens buzzed with conversation, but all I could focus on was the man who'd just upended everything I'd worked for.
"Charles," I said, my voice carrying just enough edge to cut through his composure. "I have to say, I'm surprised you didn't give me a heads up about the family alliance."
His eyebrows lifted slightly. "Elizabeth—"
"No, really." I stepped closer, lowering my voice so the nearby guests couldn't overhear. "I've always felt like we were on the same team, you know? But lately, I'm starting to wonder if there's something I've done to offend you."
Charles set down his champagne, his expression growing serious. "What are you talking about?"
"Is it because I'm not a Wilson by blood? Or because Andrew isn't part of your precious bloodline?" The words came out sharper than I'd intended.
Charles's face remained maddeningly calm as he responded. "I'm not undermining anyone, Elizabeth. I'm simply honoring my brother's wishes."
"Robert's wishes?" I laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Robert's been gone for months, Charles. During this time, Andrew and I have been the ones holding this family together."
"I know that," he said quietly. "And I appreciate everything you've done. But I can't interfere with arrangements that were already in motion."
"Arrangements?" The word tasted bitter. "You mean the engagement you orchestrated without consulting the rest of us?"
Charles shook his head. "Elizabeth, this was father's decision. The alliance needed to remain confidential."
I felt my composure slipping, the careful mask I'd worn for years starting to crack. "Right." I took a shaky breath, forcing vulnerability into my voice. "Do you know what it's like, Charles? To give everything to a family, only to watch them choose blood over loyalty?"
"Elizabeth." Charles's voice was calm. "No one's questioning your place in this family."
I dabbed at my eyes with a silk handkerchief, playing the part of the wounded mother perfectly. "Aren't they? Because it certainly feels that way."
"Grace isn't your enemy," he said carefully. "She's still learning, still finding her place. There's room for everyone in this family."
There's room for everyone. The diplomatic non-answer I'd expected.
I straightened my shoulders, composing myself. "I hope you're right, Charles. I really do." I paused, then delivered the question I'd been building toward. "But I have to ask—if it came down to Grace and Andrew, if the company could only have one of them... how would you choose?"
The question hung in the air between us like a blade. I watched Charles's face carefully, looking for any tell, any hint of his true loyalties.
He was quiet for a long moment, his eyes distant. When he finally spoke, his voice was measured. "I would choose what's best for the family and the company. Based on facts, not favoritism."
Not favoritism. The words stung, even though I'd expected them.
"That's all I wanted to hear," I said, forcing a smile. "As long as you'll judge them both fairly, I can live with whatever decision you make."
Charles nodded, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Of course. We're family, Elizabeth. We look out for each other."
Family. If only he knew how hollow that word sounded coming from him.
---
Oliver's POV
Wilson Estate Gardens
Sophia was entertaining the Davidson family in the gardens. I watched her gesture gracefully, every inch the perfect leader. I found my attention constantly focused on Sophia.
Samantha's voice carried across the garden, sharp and deliberately loud. "Sophia, you look absolutely radiant tonight. Doesn't she, Oliver? Just like when you two used to spend all those summers together."
I saw Sophia's shoulders tense slightly, though her smile never wavered.
Ten years ago, Wilson family summer gathering
I was fifteen, awkward and too tall for my own good, when I first noticed Sophia not because I knew she was Charles's daughter. She was sitting in the library, surrounded by business journals and economic reports, her hair falling across her face as she concentrated.
"You know those are incredibly boring, right?" I'd said, dropping into the chair across from her.
She'd looked up, those blue eyes sparkling with amusement. "Says the boy who spent last summer reading every biography in my grandfather's collection."
"That's different. Those were about interesting people."
"And economic theory isn't interesting?" She'd leaned forward, challenging me. "Oliver, these reports shape how entire countries function. How is that not fascinating?"
That was the moment I knew I was in trouble.
---
College years
By the time we were both at university, I'd become her unofficial protector. When others tried to make things difficult for her at the freshman mixer, I'd stepped in. When she needed funding for her startup project, I'd convinced my father to invest. When other guys wouldn't take no for an answer, they learned to take it from me.
I told myself I was just being a good friend. A family friend looking out for her.
But when she'd call me at two in the morning, crying about some small matter, I'd drive across town just to bring her ice cream and listen.
"You don't have to do this," she'd said one night, curled up on her dorm room couch. "Take care of me, I mean. I can handle myself."
"I know you can," I'd replied. "But you shouldn't have to. Not alone."