Rory’s little legs swung back and forth from the edge of the chair as Julius waited patiently, still kneeling in front of her. His broad frame was still, but his gaze was sharp, steady and fixed at her. The tension in the air was growing with time, but he kept his voice calm.“Tell me, Rory. Who are you? And why are these people chasing you? And mind you, I only want honest answers.”Rory looked down, twisting the hem of her shirt between her fingers. She stayed quiet for a moment, then gave a small sniffle. Her lips trembled, and tears began to well up in her big brown eyes.“I don’t know,” she mumbled.Julius tilted his head slightly. “Rory…”Her bottom lip wobbled. “The people who came to kidnap me.. today… and followed our car… they’re the same ones who wanted to catch me before…”Julius leaned forward. “Before?”“They are after me just to catch and lock me up,” she whispered, her voice cracking. Then why don't you tell any of us earlier? Also how do you know they wanted to catc

The ballroom shimmered under golden lights, with music drifting in the air like silk. It was the kind of evening that made even the sharpest minds soften, and the most careful hearts lower their guard. While Julius remained in the private lounge with Duke Morgan, discussing political threats with grim focus, the rest of the party was in full swing.Miley stood near the grand piano, her laughter light, her silhouette graceful in a deep emerald gown that hugged her figure with effortless elegance. She chatted with the daughter of an ambassador, holding a flute of champagne delicately in her hand. Her eyes sparkled with a natural charm that turned every head in her direction.It wasn’t long before someone near the string quartet murmured, loud enough for others to hear, “That’s Miley Hammonds, isn’t it? Duke Morgan’s heiress.”The words spread like fire among the elite crowd. All eyes drifted toward her. Whispers turned to greetings, and greetings turned to conversations. Diplomats, gene

The ministerial estate was bathed in silence, its opulence hidden behind tall, wrought-iron gates and surveillance cameras. But inside, the stillness was shattered by the violent slam of a crystal glass against the mahogany wall.Wine splattered like blood across the polished wallpaper.Dominic Valen, Minister of Trade and a man known for his cold efficiency, stood seething in the middle of his private study. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, his face a mask of cold fury.“He what?” he barked again, voice thundering through the chamber.His chief aide flinched but didn’t dare hesitate. “Mr. Colton restrained your son, sir. Publicly. At Duke Morgan’s state dinner. He also… uh… umm…”“WHAT!”“He actually intercepted a drink that was allegedly laced with a sedative and accused Jackson and Mr. Dross of attempting to drug the heiress, Miss Miley Hammonds.”Dominic's jaw ticked as he stalked toward the nearest lamp and swatted it off the table. It shattered on the floor, pieces skitt

The fire had dulled into soft embers in the hearth, casting a fading glow across the sitting room. Julius remained composed in his chair, his face unreadable as the Duke of Beldham leaned forward, trying one last time to push his offer across the line.“You must realize that I can give you more than Glamorgan ever could: more money, more resources and connections, access to assets you haven’t even dreamed of. I can offer you support from circles that are going to matter significantly more after the upcoming elections.”Julius said nothing, so the duke pressed on.“Miley will remain the heiress to Morgan’s empire, whether you stay with Glamorgan or not. That won’t change. Her legacy is untouched. All I’m saying is, you don’t need to chain yourself to a man like him. I can make sure you have your independence… and your influence.”Julius rose smoothly from his seat, eyes cold. “I think we’re done here.”David’s brow furrowed, surprised. “You’re walking away from—”“Some bonds,” Julius

The late afternoon sun filtered through the glass panels of the boutique, casting soft golden hues on the marble floors. Miley spun slowly before the mirror, examining the fall of the pastel blue dress. “What do you think, Rory?” she asked with a hint of mischief in her tone.Rory, arms folded and a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth, tilted her head. “Honestly? You look like you’re about to win the world’s most polite sword fight.”Miley laughed, her shoulders relaxing. “That bad?”“No, you look stunning. But I still vote for the black one. That one looks like you mean business!”“Wow…you've grown up quite a lot from the scared little girl I found on the deck.”“I mean, one of us has to keep up appearances,” Rory teased, reaching for a clutch off the display shelf. “This would match.”They continued browsing, the conversation light and full of warmth. Rory handed Miley a ridiculous feathered hat just to see her reaction, and Miley responded by slipping a pair of oversized sungla