Chapter 2Guest at My Own Wedding

Before the reception toasts began, Catherine drifted back to Table One, stopping beside my chair.

"You don't need to join the receiving line," she said. Her tone was superficially pleasant, but the disdain in her eyes was unvarnished. "The guests here today are high-profile investors, city officials, and major corporate partners. Given your modest background, an event like this is completely out of your league. Hanging onto Lillian’s arm would only humiliate her. Let Damian go. He was born into high society; he knows how to carry a conversation."

She paused, as if tossing a bone to a stray dog. "Go change into some casual clothes and wait in the private lounge."

Lillian overhead her mother and walked over, resting a manicured hand on the back of my chair. She leaned in close; the scent of Damian's woodsy, expensive cologne was all over her.

"Adam, you hate networking and drinking anyway," she said, her tone casually dismissive, treating the entire affair as a chore she was sparing me from. "I'll just take Damian around the room for the quick pleasantries. Once we finish the tables, we’ll head home."

Before I could answer, Damian appeared at her side, his fingers playfully digging into her hip.

"Look at you, Lillian," he drawled. "You're so busy protecting your delicate little husband, but you don't care if I end up with alcohol poisoning?"

Lillian laughed softly, turning to cajole him. "Oh, come on. As if I don't know your tolerance. A few rounds of scotch won't put a dent in you."

"Not good enough," Damian insisted, pulling her tightly against his side. "I need compensation."

Lillian chuckled. "Fine. What do you want?"

Damian kept his arm locked around her waist, their bodies pressed together in plain view of everyone at the table.

"I remember you promised to transfer a fifteen percent equity stake in Bradford Construction to Adam after the wedding." He paused, phrasing it like an offhand, brilliant idea. "Why not sign it over to me instead? He knows nothing about the commercial building trade. He can't offer you strategic value. But put those shares in my hands, and our families are bound together. From here on out, Greer Materials will guarantee Bradford a lifetime twenty percent discount on all steel and concrete supplies."

The Greers made their fortune in raw construction supplies; that was how Lillian and Damian had crossed paths in the first place.

Catherine’s eyes lit up like fireworks. She set her champagne flute down and clapped her hands together. "Brilliant. Simply brilliant!"

She patted Lillian’s arm eagerly. "Damian has always had a commercial brain. If our companies are tied together by equity, our expansion into the Southside project will be unstoppable! Don't let this drag out. Just take the transfer agreement we already printed for Adam and swap in Damian's name."

She was ready to execute the contract right there on the banquet linen.

Lillian hesitated for a brief beat, then gave Damian a playful swat on the chest. "Mom, he's taking advantage of you. Don't humor his extortion."

Her tone was flirtatious, the kind of scolding that carried zero teeth.

Damian leaned into her space. "Extortion? In the eyes of the entire city, I just married you today. If this gets out, I'm practically carrying the social baggage of a divorced man. A pristine bachelor like me, taking a reputational hit for your superstition—and you think fifteen percent is too much?"

He tilted his head toward me, his smile dripping with malice. "Besides, if no woman wants to marry me after this, are you going to step up and carry on the Greer family name?"

Catherine chimed in under her breath, "Honestly, I wouldn't mind that at all."

Lillian laughed again, lifting her hand to tap his shoulder, but before she could speak, a low chuckle broke from my throat.

It wasn't loud. But against the backdrop of their cozy, celebratory banter, it was sharp enough to slice through the air.

The laughter died down.

Lillian’s hand hovered awkwardly in midair. Damian’s grin stiffened for a fraction of a second before reforming.

"What's so funny, Adam? Do you find Mrs. Bradford's business sense amusing?"

Catherine glared at me, her mouth parting to deliver another scathing rebuke.

I didn't spare Damian a glance. My eyes remained fixed entirely on Lillian.

"I actually agree with him," I said evenly. "Transferring the fifteen percent to Damian is an inspired move. I'm certain the partnership between your families will be tighter than ever."

Surprise flickered across Damian’s face, quickly replaced by triumph.

Catherine exhaled a satisfied snort. "Well. At least you have enough sense to know your place. My daughter won't let you starve, Adam. There's no point in fighting for things above your station."

She nudged Lillian forward. "What are you waiting for? Adam gave his blessing. Have your assistant bring the contract over right now. Let’s get ink on the paper before the day is out."

Lillian stared at me, her lips parting slightly, searching my face for any hint of sarcasm or hidden anger.

My expression remained perfectly placid, an open, unreadable canvas.

Pushed by her mother's impatient hands, she finally nodded and waved for her personal assistant to bring the folder.