The silence Andrew’s gifts created did not last.Blossom recovered first.She laughed, short and brittle, the sound scraping against the stunned quiet. “Oh, please,” she said, waving a dismissive hand. “Do you all really believe this nonsense?”Several heads turned.Blossom’s eyes locked onto Andrew, sharp and accusing. “Those gifts didn’t come from you. They came from Olivia’s money.”Olivia stiffened. “That’s not true.”Blossom ignored her. “A man without a real job suddenly shows up with diamonds, contracts, cars?” She scoffed. “Do you think we’re stupid?”Andrew remained seated, posture relaxed, hands folded loosely on the table. He did not rush to defend himself.Blossom pressed on, encouraged by his silence. “You’ve been living off my niece since day one. Using her money to buy favors and pretend you’re something you’re not.”Olivia pushed her chair back and stood. “I did not give him my money,” she said, voice clipped. “Not a single cent.”Blossom turned on her immediately. “Of

Andrew stepped out of Lord George’s study and closed the door behind him softly.The hallway was quieter now. Most of the guests had retreated to smaller rooms, whispering, speculating, pretending not to listen while doing exactly that.He had taken only three steps when he sensed her.Olivia stood a few feet away from the door, arms crossed, posture stiff. She wasn’t trying to hide. She was waiting.Her eyes met his, dark and searching, irritation barely contained beneath a thin layer of restraint.“Come with me,” she said flatly.Andrew opened his mouth, but she had already turned on her heel.He followed.She didn’t slow down, not once, leading him through familiar corridors of the Beecroft manor until they reached the far wing. Olivia pushed open a door and stepped inside, then turned sharply and grabbed his wrist, dragging him in after her before shutting the door with a decisive click.Only then did she let go.“Sit,” she said, pointing at the armchair near the window.Andrew

Olivia and May had argued, researched, prayed, and worried themselves thin before finally reaching a decision. Every school prospect came with glossy brochures and rehearsed assurances, but none could erase the memory of Ethan’s kidnapping, the panic, the helplessness, the scars that never quite faded. What they needed was not just excellence or prestige. They needed safety without compromise.That was how Unicorn Day and Boarding School entered their lives.The first thing Olivia noticed when they drove through the iron gates was the silence not the dead kind, but a controlled calm. The gates were tall, matte black, and reinforced with discreet steel panels that looked ornamental until you looked closer. Security cameras were embedded so seamlessly into the wrought designs that they appeared decorative. A uniformed guard greeted them by name, having checked their arrival time moments earlier, and the gates slid shut behind them with a low, final hum.Unicorn Day and Boarding Sch