Baby Trapped by the Billionaire novel · Chapter 21 of 24

Chapter 21: Founders' Day

On the twentieth of December the Brennick dining room smelled of pine and roast beef.

The glass ceiling was white with snow.

Forty places were set under it, down the long table.

The board was there, and the foremen from the plant, and a row of old glassblowers in borrowed ties.

Harold sat at the head in a wheelchair he refused to admit was a wheelchair, with his swan stick across his knees.

The chair on his right hand was empty.

Gavin's hand rested at the small of my back, as it had the first night.

This time it was steady.

"Sit," said Harold. "It's yours."

I sat in the chair beside his, and the old man looked at the ring on my finger and nodded, once.

Mila slid in on my other side, with a velvet beanie over a quarter inch of dark fuzz.

"I have hair," she whispered. "Touch it. No, don't. Just know it's there."

The soup came.

Nobody was nervous, which should have warned me.

The side door banged.

Spencer walked in with a man in a grey overcoat and a leather folder, and behind him, white-lipped, his wife.

The boys were not with her.

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