His smile didn't falter, but his eyes widened a fraction. He froze, his hand hovering uselessly in the space between us.
Alone, I walked to the center of the makeshift stage. The lights were blinding. I unfolded the notecard.
I looked at Grandmother then I crumpled the card in my fist and looked directly into the nearest camera.
"Thank you for coming on such short notice," I began, my voice surprisingly steady. "There's been a lot of speculation about today. The truth is, Preston and I have come to a wonderful, mutual understanding. We've decided to remain the dearest of friends and pursue our… heart's desires."
Preston took a step closer to stop me but my look stopped him.
There was a brief silence and then the whole dam broke.
"So the wedding is off?"
"Was there a third party, Emilia?"
"Is that why you called it off?"
"Who is the secret man?"
"Did you have an affair?"
The last one hit me like a physical blow. He screwed up but somehow it was my fault?
Suddenly, the lights felt hotter, the room smaller. My carefully constructed composure began to slip away. I could feel the panic rising, the heat creeping up my neck. I was about to either scream or cry, and either would be a disaster. Vanderbilt wasn't supposed to break.
And then, I felt it.
A large, warm hand on mine, enveloping it.
It was calloused and strong, giving it a firm, steadying squeeze. I flinched, looking up.
It was Carson. He'd left his fern.
He wasn't looking at the crowd. He was looking directly at me.
"I offered to fight a tiger for you but I guess, what my wife wants…my wife gets," he murmured.
"Carson," I whispered, surprised. "I thought you hated cameras."
"I do," he said, his hazel eyes holding my gaze. "Just not as much as I hate watching you take them on alone. Take a deep breath. I'm here."
The courage that flooded me was dizzying. I turned back to the press, gripping his hand like a lifeline.
"This," I said, my voice ringing out, "is the man I married today. Carson Gibbs."
"Take off your mask!"
"Is he ugly?!"
"You left an Astor for him?"
"Let us take a picture!"
"Is he ashamed to be seen with you?"
"LET US SEE YOU!"
"Don't speak about my Carson Gibbs in that manner!" I snapped, rambling in my defense. "He doesn't have to take off his mask. He has a cold. And it's none of your business if he's ugly, wrinkly or scarfaced!"
But as I spoke, Carson lifted his free hand to the strings of his mask. In one slow, deliberate motion, he pulled it down.
The air left my lungs in a silent whoosh.
"You are not ugly," I whispered.
He chuckled. "Thank you. I think."
He wasn't just handsome. He was… breathtaking. Chiseled jaw, a mouth that looked like it was made for sin, and those hazel eyes—now fully visible—were like looking into a forest fire, warm and golden and intense. The greasy flannel and the delivery-boy persona were a disguise. This man was a god who had fallen to earth and decided to take up meatpacking.
The room erupted in a frenzy, a million camera flashes exploding like silent fireworks.
"Do you want to get out of here?" He asked me.
I couldn't talk. I simply nodded.
---
The aftermath was as swift and brutal as an execution.
Back in the main living room, Grandmother stood surrounded by a dozen lawyers in suits that cost more than Carson's truck. The air was cold enough to freeze hell.
"Effective immediately," one of the lawyers began as soon as I stepped inside, reading from a tablet, "you are hereby removed from the Vanderbilt family trust and disinherited from all holdings and assets."
Grandmother's eyes were cold as I stared at her in shock.
"You have two hours to remove your personal effects from the villa. You are no longer a Vanderbilt. Anyone in this family caught giving you so much as a handout will receive the same punishment."
I looked at this tiny, ancient woman who had just lit my future on fire and thrown my unborn child into the gutter. All for a headline. All for control.
The hurt was a hotness in my belly. But I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing me cry.
I met her gaze. "Why?" I asked, the word barely a whisper. "Why did other girls get grandmothers who smell like cookies and give the best hugs, and I get an old bitch like you?"
I didn't wait for an answer. I turned my back on her and walked away.
I found Carson by the front door, waiting. He'd put his mask back on, but I could still see him in my mind.
The fantasy was over. The real world was here, and it was brutal.
"The marriage is off, Carson Gibbs," I said, my voice flat, all the fire from the press conference extinguished. "There's no money. I can't buy Ford F-150. There's nothing. I can't pay you to marry me."
"Emilia"
"Go!" I yelled at him. "Please, go!"
Great! Fucking great! Twenty four, pregnant and penniless wasn't what I envisioned this morning for my life. But here, I am.