Chapter 8
Marcus Caldwell walked into the ballroom carrying a cane he didn’t need.
Sixty-seven.
Silver hair.
Old-school smile.
The kind that turns threats into etiquette.
He saw Preston beneath the collapsed décor.
Victoria among ruined flowers.
Me holding the Pembroke signet.
Then Sebastian.
“Ah.”
One word.
No surprise.
That told me something.
“You knew?”
I asked.
Marcus smiled.
“Suspected.”
Preston stared.
“What?”
Marcus ignored him.
He looked at me.
“Catherine Pembroke.”
My father’s bodyguards shifted.
Marcus raised one hand.
“Relax.”
I laughed.
“No.”
His eyes sharpened.
Good.
“Why did you suspect?”
He glanced at my ring.
“Your charity.”
“What about it?”
“Too protected.”
I understood.
The foundation events looked modest.
Security never was.
Marcus had noticed.
“You let Preston propose anyway.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To see whether Sebastian would react.”
My father’s face hardened.
Marcus continued:
“He didn’t.”
Because he respected my choice.
Marcus had interpreted restraint as distance.
Another mistake.
I looked at Preston.
“You were bait.”
His face changed.
Marcus shrugged.
“He was useful.”
Preston stared at him.
Victoria whispered:
“Marcus.”
The old man ignored her.
“I needed to know whether Catherine mattered.”
I looked at my scraped hands.
“And now?”
“Obviously.”
He smiled.
“You matter.”
I hated the way he said it.
Like market value.
“What was the plan after confirming me?”
“Marriage.”
“With Preston.”
“Yes.”
“And if I refused?”
Marcus leaned on his cane.
“Pressure.”
“Define it.”
“Isolation.”
“From my father?”
“From everyone who makes refusal comfortable.”
My jaw tightened.
“And the old family solution?”
His smile faded.
“That was theatrical language.”
Tiffany laughed from across the room.
“No.”
Everyone turned.
She looked at him.
“You told Mom if the girl wouldn’t marry, make Sebastian mourn before he can choose another heir.”
Silence.
Marcus’s face changed.
Tiny.
Enough.
I stared.
Not kill me immediately.
Break my father.
Remove me.
Destroy succession.
Then absorb weakened Pembroke crews.
I looked at Sebastian.
He had gone completely still.
Marcus saw it.
And finally, for the first time, the old man looked uncertain.
May you like
Because he had spent months imagining my father as a Mafia boss.
He had forgotten he was also my dad.
