1032 When the Billionaire Heir Proposed to the Wrong Woman But Found the Four Sons He Never Knew He Had Waiting in the Bathroom

The sound of my finger releasing the screen of my phone felt louder than the low buzz of conversation surrounding the conservatory fountain. Across the marble bar, Arthur Barrett raised his champagne glass slightly higher, his eyes narrowing with a sharp, calculating scrutiny that had built empires on State Street.

“You’re quiet tonight, Dominic,” Arthur noted, his voice smooth but edged with an unmistakable warning. “Usually, a man celebrating his engagement has more to say about the future.”

“The future takes planning, Arthur,” I replied, keeping my voice level. I set my untouched glass down on a nearby iron table, the crystal clinking softly against the metal. “And sometimes you realize the blueprints you were handed don’t match the land you’re building on.”

Sloane turned sharply toward me, her silk dress rustling. Her dark eyes, usually so composed, flashed with sudden irritation. “What is that supposed to mean? If this is about your cold feet or some last-minute hesitation from your uncles, let me remind you that the paperwork for the Boston Shipping Authority terminals is already logged with the registry. It doesn't move forward without your signature tomorrow morning.”

“Nothing escapes your notice, does it, Sloane?” I said, looking straight into her eyes. There was no warmth left in my gaze, only the cold realization of how neatly she and her father had engineered this cage.

Before Sloane could fire back, the glass doors at the opposite end of the conservatory slid open with a soft hiss.

Uncle Mateo stepped inside, bringing a gust of chilly October air with him. His silver hair was neatly combed, his dark overcoat unbuttoned to reveal a waistcoat pinned with a gold Moretti crest. He looked past the orchids and the fountain, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that brooked no argument.

“Dominic,” Mateo said, his deep voice carrying easily across the space. “Your father is waiting in the library via secure link. He wants confirmation that the engagement announcement is ready for tomorrow morning’s press release.”

The air in the conservatory grew tighter. The trap was closing. Every eye in the room was on me—Arthur waiting for compliance, Sloane waiting for submission, and Mateo waiting to report back to the patriarch.

“Tell him he can wait a little longer, Mateo,” I said, turning away from the fountain and walking slowly toward the exit.

Mateo’s step hitched. He didn't block my path, but his hand hovered near the lapel of his coat. “Dominic. Think about what you’re doing. You don’t walk away from a Moretti alliance. Not for pride, and certainly not for a ghost.”

I stopped inches from him, lowering my voice so Arthur and Sloane couldn't hear across the water. “You knew, didn't you?”

Mateo didn’t blink. “Knew what?”

“Six years ago. You didn't just give Clara Vance a file and tell her to leave. You made sure she had nowhere else to turn.” I stepped closer, my height finally matching his old intimidation. “And you knew she had nowhere to go with four boys who carry my face.”

Mateo’s jaw tightened, a microscopic twitch of muscle the only confirmation I needed. He hadn't expected me to find out tonight. He had thought the corporate merger and the glittering conservatory would keep me blind.

“She was a liability to the family name, Dominic,” Mateo whispered back, his voice like grinding stones. “And she still is. If you walk out those doors tonight to chase after a legal fiction and a woman who belongs to a corporate lawyer, you aren't just breaking an engagement. You’re inviting a war your father will finish without hesitation.”

“Let him try,” I said, and for the first time in my life, the threat didn't sound like fear. It sounded like a choice.