Chapter 3 Dinner

Monday was a day of orchestrated transformation for the Hale family. Caroline, who usually preferred a bare face and the scent of printer ink, found herself pinned to a vanity chair, trying to endure the rhythmic, ticklish assault of makeup brushes.

The artist, Tya, had been dispatched directly from the Marcus estate. She moved with a silent, terrifying efficiency, pausing only to marvel at Caroline's complexion.

"You have skin like silk and milk, Miss Caroline," Tya whispered, her voice full of professional envy. "I barely need a base."

"Don't put too much on, please," Caroline murmured, watching her reflection. "I still want to look like myself."

Tya offered a knowing smile. "Just trust me. A girl like you doesn't need a mask; she just needs a spotlight."

When the final dusting of blush was applied and the brushes were laid to rest, Caroline turned to the mirror. She didn't see the college student who spent her nights designing 3D cards. She saw a woman with sculpted cheekbones and eyes that looked wider, deeper, and more vulnerable than she liked.

"Is this really me?" she whispered, her fingers hovering just inches from her skin.

"It is," Tya said, pulling a garment bag from the rack. "Now, for the final touch. The Marcus family sent this specifically for you."

She unveiled a modern sundress, a designer piece in a deep, burning crimson that looked like it had been spun from rose petals. It was elegant, sweet, and undeniably expensive.

"Oh... no," Caroline said, her voice small but firm. "My father ordered clothes for the whole family yesterday. We're wearing those. I want to stand with my family tonight."

Tya's face fell, her eyes lingering on the red dress. "Miss, if you knew fashion, you wouldn't waste a piece like this. This isn't just a dress; it's a statement of status."

Caroline offered a mischievous, apologetic smile as she stood up. "Tonight, the only status I care about is being a Hale."

At exactly seven o'clock, the Hale family arrived at The Regal Ritz, the crown jewel of Havenport's skyline. Like nearly everything else of value in the city, the hotel was owned by the Marcus Group.

They were whisked through the lobby to the seventh floor. A private dining wing had been cleared of all other guests. One of the senior assistants, a man who seemed to have known her father for decades, guided them with hushed directions. He stopped to shake Caroline's hand, his eyes flickering with confusion.

"A pleasure to see you again, Miss Jane," he said warmly.

Caroline didn't correct him. The weight of the replacement felt like a physical stone in her stomach. Jane was at home, her eyes swollen from days of weeping. She had spent the afternoon apologizing to Caroline, begging for a forgiveness Caroline had already given.

While Jane had broken, Caroline had hardened. She had spent the week mastering her emotions, building a wall behind her eyes. She had always been the "cheerful" one-the girl with a thousand friends who could talk to anyone from the neighborhood children to the local grocers. But tonight, that sociability was a suit of armor.

"Caroline..." her mother whispered, reaching out to straighten the collar of Caroline's family-selected batik dress.

Nearby, her older brother, Jake, turned his head away, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might snap. Jake had been a ghost in the house lately. He was the self-made titan of the family, a man who had built an e-commerce empire from a dorm room without a single cent of their father's "blood money." He had spent his youth working until dawn, driven by a stubborn need for independence.

Lately, however, Jake had been spending every evening in Caroline's room.

"If you want to run," he had told her just last night, his voice thick with a suppressed fury, "tell me. I'll burn my company to the ground to buy you a plane ticket to somewhere they'll never find you. I'll be your shield, Caroline. I'll be a Kamikaze for you if I have to."

But they both knew it was too late. The Marcus Group didn't just own businesses; they owned the city. Jake's guilt was a palpable thing, a shadow that followed him into the dining room. He felt he had been too slow, too focused on his own success to see the trap closing around his little sister.

The heavy, hand-carved oak doors were pulled open by two uniformed attendants.

Inside, the atmosphere was thick with the scent of lilies and aged brandy. Three figures stood to welcome them. Then, a fourth entered, Harrison. He stood behind an elderly man who leaned heavily on an antique, silver-topped cane.

The old man looked at Harrison with a flicker of annoyance, but as he turned to the Hales, his expression shifted into one of practiced, regal politeness.

This was the Marcus family. The Forbes lists hadn't done them justice. Seeing them in person was like looking at a solar system; they had a gravitational pull that made everyone else feel small.

Caroline's father stepped forward, embracing the old man. Caroline realized with a jolt of nerves that this was Williams Marcus. She had pictured a man her father's age, but Williams was nearly seventy, a relic of a harder, more ruthless era.

"Is this the daughter?" Williams asked, his voice a gravelly rasp that commanded silence. He peered at Caroline through narrowed eyes. "She is... quite striking."

"Thank you," Caroline said. Her mind raced, searching for the correct honorific for a man who effectively owned her future.

"Grandpa," she said clearly.

The room went deathly silent for a heartbeat. Then, Williams burst into a deep, booming laugh that echoed off the vaulted ceiling. Her father and mother joined in, the tension breaking like a fever.

"Call him Grandpa, Caroline," a graceful woman of similar age said, stepping forward. She hugged Caroline, smelling of expensive powder and genuine warmth. "I used to be Juliana when I was young and foolish, but Grandma will do perfectly."

Then, Caroline saw the final member of the family. Her future mother-in-law, Jennifer.

Jennifer was a haunting vision of beauty, golden-skinned, her dark hair pulled back in a modern, sophisticated bun. She was wearing a dress that was likely the companion to the one Caroline had refused to wear. Her face was a mask of tragic calm.

Caroline did the math in her head. Harrison was twenty-seven. If Jennifer was his mother, she had to be in her mid-forties, but she looked like she had stepped out of a fountain of youth. She looked no older than thirty-five.

Jennifer shook Caroline's hand, but her gaze was distant, tinged with a sadness so profound it made Caroline want to look away. Is she sad because of me? Caroline wondered. Or is it because she knows what this family does to the women who marry into it?

The dinner service began. Caroline's parents were desperate to please, laughing at Williams's jokes and hanging on every word from Juliana. Jake, however, remained a silent volcano at the end of the table, his eyes fixed on his plate.

Harrison sat beside Caroline. He was a dark, brooding presence, his silence more loud than the conversation around them. Caroline felt his eyes on her periodically, heavy and judging.

Under the pressure of Jennifer's sad gaze and Harrison's cold proximity, Caroline's composure slipped. She reached for her dessert spoon, but her hand trembled. The silver clattered against the porcelain, and a dollop of berry coulis slid off the spoon, landing squarely on the skirt of her sundress.

The stain was a vivid, mocking purple against the fabric.

"You should go to the bathroom," Harrison said.

Caroline froze.

The entire table had stopped talking. She felt the heat rising in her neck. She wanted to disappear, but the lessons of her old etiquette teacher echoed in her head: To leave an official dinner for such a reason is a mark of poor breeding.

She started to sit back down, her face burning.

"Caroline must be finished anyway, aren't you, dear?" Juliana said, her voice a lifeline of kindness. She had clearly seen the girl's panic. "Harrison, darling, why don't you show Caroline the gardens? The night air in Havenport is lovely this time of year."

Harrison stood, his chair scraping against the floor with a sound like a closing cell door. He waited for her.

Caroline followed him out of the room, her head held high despite the damp, dark circle on her thigh. They passed a waiter in the hallway who seemed to physically shrink as Harrison approached. The young man looked like he was struggling to breathe.

"You took too long to decide," Harrison scolded as they reached the lobby area. He looked down at the stain. "Are you planning to return to a Marcus family dinner with a wet circle between your legs? It looks... suggestive. And ridiculous."

"I was trying to be polite!" Caroline snapped, her voice low. She looked around and spotted a magazine on a waiting room table. She grabbed it and began fanning her skirt with frantic, broad strokes.

"Stop that," Harrison said, his blue eyes flashing with genuine irritation. "You look like a bird trying to take flight. Follow me."

He didn't wait to see if she obeyed. He walked toward a private elevator, his stride long and purposeful. Caroline had no choice but to trail after him, still clutching the magazine.

The elevator climbed to the fifth floor. This level was the nerve center of the Ritz, the marketing and personnel offices. Despite it being nearly half-past nine, the glass-walled cubicles were still glowing with activity.

As they walked side by side, the office fell silent. The employees stopped mid-sentence, watching the "Prince of Havenport" stride past with a girl in a damp dress. Caroline tried to keep pace, her sneakers squeaking on the polished floor.

Harrison stopped in front of a heavy set of double doors. He took a hairdryer from a female staff member who had been waiting there, clearly summoned by a silent text and dismissed her with a sharp nod.

He pushed the doors open.

A workspace stretched out before them that was larger than Caroline's entire apartment. It was a room of sharp angles and black leather, dominated by a massive mahogany desk. On one side, a floor-to-ceiling window offered a panoramic view of Havenport. The city lights twinkled like fallen stars, reflecting off the black water of the harbor.

"Come in," Harrison said, his voice echoing in the vast space. "This is my office. And since we are 'partners,' I suggest you get used to the view. It's the only thing in this building that won't lie to you."