Chapter 90

• Howard steps out onto the villa's expansive balcony, the cool mountain breeze rustling the pines and carrying faint echoes of distant waterfalls. Elysian Peaks Resort lives up to its name—acres of manicured opulence cascading down the hillside, infinity pools shimmering like liquid silver under the moon, and a panorama of stars so vivid they seem close enough to touch. He grips the wrought-iron railing, the chilled metal grounding him as he stares into the velvet night. The champagne flute dangles forgotten in his other hand, its bubbles long since faded. Inside, Charlotte moves with that quiet grace, but out here, alone, his mind unravels.
• What the hell is this? Howard thinks, jaw tightening. This contract marriage was supposed to be simple—until Grandfather's gone, playing the dutiful heir to honor his wishes, then freedom. Nobody knows the truth, not even Anastasia or Mother. It's our dirty secret, locked in that unsigned paper we both nodded to before the vows. But Charlotte... that poise on the aisle, the unexpected fire in her eyes. The kiss at the altar—damn it, that spark. It wasn't just obligation; it lingered, pulled at something I buried years ago. Resentment was my shield, but now? Confusion. Attraction? No, it can't be. She's the outsider, the arranged pawn. Yet her gaze holds secrets, like she sees through me. Am I losing control already?
• His mind drifts, pulling him into a vivid flashback. Earlier that evening, before the reception's dances, he'd slipped away with Grandfather Wendell to a secluded garden alcove, away from prying eyes. The fairy lights twinkled overhead, casting golden halos on Wendell's silver hair as they stood amid blooming jasmine. "Howard," Wendell had begun, voice low and gravelly with age-earned wisdom, "this marriage isn't whimsy. Charlotte's your shield, boy—and yours to protect. Your mother Karla and that adopted girl Anastasia—they'll plot against her. Schemes to separate you poison the union."