Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Knox
The grand hall of the Astoria gleams like a jeweler’s display case beneath the weight of a hundred crystal chandeliers.
Every surface catches and throws light. The polished marble floors, the gilt-framed mirrors lining the walls, the champagne glasses that never seem to empty in manicured hands.
The air thrums with the low murmur of New York’s elite, a carefully orchestrated symphony of power, wealth, and calculated social maneuvering.
All of it for me. For us—Isla and me.
For the elaborate charade I’m about to make official.
I stand near the center of it all with my father and his closest friends, who also happen to be five of our top investors.
While he regales them with stories of his latest acquisition, I scan the carefully curated guests milling about like pieces on a chessboard—the good, the bad, and the inquisitive.
Those who’ve come to celebrate. Those who’ve come to scrutinize.
And those who’ve come simply to confirm that Knox Vale is really getting married.
That the notorious bachelor has finally been tamed.
If only they knew my bride-to-be would sooner throttle me in my sleep than marry me.
We’re still on the battlefield, though we haven’t seen each other since last night. I thought keeping my distance was best. I was right, given the fact I’m still irked about Chad.
Of course, I had my PI run a search on him.
Turns out the bastard got a promotion here, but I suspect he took the job to be closer to Isla.
He seems to have done a one-eighty with his life.
From his social media, he looked perfectly content down under.
I never imagined him finding his way back to New York, yet he’s here. And I doubt I’ve seen the last of him.
Isla may want to keep to the rules of our arrangement, but I don’t think she’ll leave her ex to stew in last night’s filth. He means too much to her.
I don’t like that.
I like it even less that her feelings, and her compassion, are things I can’t control.
“Knox is the one to thank,” my father’s voice booms, cutting through my thoughts. He raises his champagne glass toward me. “This son of mine never ceases to impress me.”
Jeremiah Vale is in his element tonight, practically glowing with satisfaction.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“No, no. The gratitude’s all mine.” He claps a heavy hand on my shoulder, pride radiating through the gesture, then turns back to his circle of investor friends.
“The Barcelona project came in fifteen percent under budget and two weeks ahead of schedule. My son here orchestrated the entire thing from conception to completion. It’s another once-in-a-lifetime deal that adds to the greatness of our empire. ”
Marcus Whitfield, CEO of Whitfield Capital, nods appreciatively while Senator Katherine Reeves and tech mogul David Chen hang on every word. They’ve all heard variations of this speech before. My father never misses an opportunity to showcase what he considers his greatest investment.
Me.
He’s proud of all his children, but I’m the one he bets the empire on.
I’ve never liked being the center of attention, but I humor him. I understand his motivation and that every success I achieve validates not just my worth, but his legacy.
For that reason, I don’t plan to let him down again.
“Always knew you had it in you, Knox,” Whitfield says, raising his glass. “Your father’s been singing your praises for years, but seeing the results speaks for itself.”
“I appreciate that.” I offer a practiced smile. Whitfield was one of the few who didn’t make life hell for me during the scandal, though he still wanted me gone.
“Well done. That kind of international coordination requires exceptional leadership,” Senator Reeves adds, her sharp eyes assessing me with the measured interest of someone who deals in favors and influence.
I incline my head.
“Exceptional leadership is a skill of rare quality,” Dad continues with an easy grin. “And tonight, Knox adds another milestone to his list of achievements. Marriage will definitely suit you, my boy.”
The words hang in the air like champagne bubbles waiting to burst, and the familiar weight of performance settles over me like a second skin.
The practiced smile. The confident posture.
The easy charm drilled into me since childhood.
Every gesture calculated. Every word measured.
Every emotion controlled and presented for maximum effect.
I’ve mastered my role. But tonight feels different.
Tonight, the stage is bigger, the lights brighter, the audience more demanding.
This might very well be the biggest act of my life. Convincing everyone in this room, including myself, that Knox Vale has found his perfect match.
The irony tastes bitter on my tongue, as sharp as the champagne I haven’t touched.
James Morrison, a longtime family friend, raises his glass with a knowing smile. “Congratulations on your engagement, Knox. About time you settled down.”
“Hear, hear,” echoes Victoria Ashford, her diamond bracelet catching the light as she gestures. “We were beginning to think you’d stay a bachelor forever.”
The chorus of agreement ripples through our circle, warm and genuine, at least on the surface.
These people have watched me grow up in the spotlight of New York society, witnessed my carefully curated public persona evolve from promising heir to accomplished businessman.
To them, this engagement is the natural next step in a life that’s unfolded exactly as it should.
“I can’t wait for you to meet her,” Dad interjects, his voice carrying that particular note of satisfaction that comes from a deal well-executed. “Isla is a wonderful girl and the perfect fit for Knox. They’re a solid match made in heaven.”
He’s never met Isla, but his delivery is so convincing, even I almost believe him.
“When is she getting here?” Victoria asks.
“Any minute now. She’ll be arriving with her family.”
Although I would’ve preferred her to arrive with Sheila, who’s already here, I allowed Isla to get ready with her family. I hope that wasn’t a mistake, especially with everyone gathered. Even Levi and Locke, who are always late, managed to show up on time.
“Did I hear congratulations being offered?” Louise glides up to us with her usual elegance. In her midnight-blue gown, my stepmother looks every inch my father’s counterpart. “I hope I’m not late.”
“Not at all,” I reply.
She smiles and sets her hands on my shoulders. “Congratulations, Knox. Your father and I couldn’t be more pleased.” She means it, even though she knows about the arrangement.
Louise has always wished me well. She’s aware of how cruel my mother was, and over the years, she’s gone above and beyond to show she cares because of it.
“Knox!” My sister, Adeline, cuts in before I can answer. She rushes up and throws her arms around me.
She’s always excited to see me. I’m the same with her. She’s the only person who ever gets to see the softer parts of me.
“Hey, Red.” I smile, taking in her auburn hair swept into an intricate updo that shows off the emerald necklace at her throat.
“I’m excited to meet your fiancée, but I have to tell you about Harvard.”
“Don’t let her talk your ears off,” Louise chides.
“It’s fine. I want to hear what happened.”
Adeline’s just returned from a writer’s retreat—something they host for students joining their journalism program in the fall.
“It was amazing, and I got a place with the college paper. Can you believe it?” Her bright green eyes beam with life, and for a moment, she reminds me of how I used to be. She has the parts of me that haven’t yet been sanded down by expectation.
“That’s fantastic.” I give her a nod of approval, though her achievement doesn’t surprise me. She’s a clever girl.
The low hum of conversation shifts, rippling through the room.
There’s a soft gasp here. A curious glance there.
I follow the eyes.
At first, I spot Isla’s mother, her aunt, and her cousin Mia entering through the grand double doors. All three are elegantly dressed, perfectly in step with the Astoria’s opulence.
Then I see her.
My bride-to-be.
And my stomach drops.
Rocks clog my throat as my gaze lands on the truly horrid dress she’s wearing.
It’s a short tie-dye beach dress that looks like something Ronald McDonald’s sister might’ve designed. And that’s just the fucking dress. On her feet are black army boots.
Fuck my life.
“Is… that her?” Adeline asks carefully, glancing from me to Isla.
I can’t even answer.
I force my jaw to unclench and arrange a slow, practiced smile as every eye in the room shifts from her to me. I even glimpse my brothers in the corner gaping in shock and whispering.
Then Isla’s gaze locks with mine, and she smiles.
Not an I-hate-you smile.
Not even an I’m-trying-to-embarrass-you smile.
Something worse. Calculated. But smooth.
I haven’t known her long, but I know enough to recognize this isn’t just about last night.
This is something more.
Something carefully crafted.
She knows the terms of our contract—public representation and every clause memorized to the letter. She’s not in breach. Not technically. But she knew this would make me fucking crazy. Which can only mean one thing.
The forfeiture clause.
As if I wouldn’t figure it out.
No, no. My girl is too clever for that. She would’ve counted on me figuring it out. Maybe not tonight, but eventually.
So… she thinks she can beat me at my own game?
We’ll see about that.
Isla Monroe just started a war she can’t win.
And I’m not walking away from it. Neither is she.
I won’t let her.