Chapter 1 #3
“Emma? Oh my god, what are you doing here?” Hannah said excitedly, straightening her purse on her shoulder. “I didn’t expect to see you at a restaurant like this!”
Emma composed herself quickly, smoothing her expression into polite neutrality.
Hannah’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. “I can’t believe we ran into each other like this! You’re always so busy. I usually only see you at auctions.”
Emma tilted her head slightly.
A polite smile appeared on her lips.
“I’m sorry,” she said smoothly. “Do I know you?”
Hannah blinked, slightly flustered, but quickly recovered.
“I’ve heard so much about your auction house,” she explained. “I’ve even purchased several pieces—well, my assistants did. But I absolutely love your collections. The items you curate are always so rare. I cherish them.”
Emma nodded graciously, her expression composed.
“That’s wonderful to know,” Emma’s smile was poised, elegant.
She extended her hand. “Now that we’ve properly met, I’m Emma Creed. And you are…?”
Hannah looked almost breathless.
She quickly took Emma’s hand with both of hers, shaking it eagerly, as if she had just been acknowledged by a celebrity she admired from afar.
“I’m Hannah Graves,” she said brightly.
Emma stilled.
The faint smile on her lips froze for half a second—barely noticeable, but enough.
Her eyes flickered instinctively toward Harold across the restaurant.
Then back to Hannah.
“Graves?” she repeated softly.
Her pulse skipped.
“You’re…” Emma repeated carefully, her tone shifting ever so slightly. “Mrs. Graves?”
“Yes,” Hannah laughed lightly, oblivious to the tension that had just settled into Emma’s posture. “I just brought my son here for a blind date. It’s my friend’s daughter. He didn’t want to come at all.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I practically had to push him through the doors.”
Emma’s gaze slid toward Harold again.
He was sitting rigidly at the table, jaw tight, clearly uncomfortable.
Hannah continued cheerfully, “I was just about to leave so they can talk privately.”
Emma’s heart thudded. “Harold is your son?”
Hannah beamed with pride. “Yes. He’s my only son. You know him?”
Emma’s heart jumped sharply inside her chest.
For a split second, she lost her composure—but she quickly masked it.
“Yes,” she nodded lightly. “I know him. Sophia is my best friend. So we’re… acquaintances. Friends of friends.”
“I can’t believe you know Harold!” Hannah exclaimed.
She seemed to skip over everything Emma had just said, completely fixated on the one unbelievable fact—that someone like Emma Creed was somehow connected to her son.
Her excitement was so overwhelming it almost made her dizzy.
She stared at Emma as if she had just met her favorite celebrity in real life. The excitement was so overwhelming that she nearly fainted on the spot.
Emma shifted her weight slightly, a brief flicker of nervousness passing through her eyes before she steadied herself. Then she looked at Hannah asked with polite curiosity,
“Mrs. Graves… would it be alright with you if I dated Harold?”
“Date… Harold?”
Hannah’s eyes widened so much it looked as if she had momentarily lost all sense of the present.
Her body swayed.
For a terrifying second, it looked like she might faint right there in the middle of the restaurant.
Emma reacted immediately. She stepped forward and wrapped an arm around Hannah’s shoulders, catching her before she could fall.
Hannah clung to Emma’s arm, her expression completely starstruck, as though she had forgotten how to breathe.
“You… you want to date Harold?” she stammered.
“Yes,” Emma replied simply.
Hannah suddenly straightened, gripping Emma’s arm tightly.
“Yes! Yes, of course you can date Harold!” she almost cried out, her voice rising with excitement.
The enthusiasm in her tone was almost absurd. At that moment, it looked as though she would willingly offer everything she owned—her money, her house, even her soul—if it meant convincing Emma to date her son.
She suddenly clasped her hands together in front of her chest, closing her eyes tightly.
Emma watched in stunned silence as Hannah began murmuring something under her breath.
Emma could only catch one word clearly—
“God…”
It sounded like she was offering a heartfelt prayer of gratitude.
A second later, Hannah opened her eyes again and grabbed Emma’s hand enthusiastically.
“Come! Let’s go. I’ll introduce you to him!” she said in a rushed, rambling voice. “Do you know—I mean—never mind, it doesn’t matter!”
Emma barely had time to react before Hannah was already pulling her across the restaurant toward Harold’s table.
But just as they were approaching—
The woman sitting across from Harold suddenly shoved her chair backward with a loud scrape.
The harsh noise drew several curious glances from nearby diners.
The woman stood up abruptly, her face flushed with anger.
She snatched the paper straw Harold had been absentmindedly twisting between his fingers and ripped it apart violently.
The straw crumbled instantly, the torn paper pieces scattering across the table as she tossed them down in frustration.
Harold didn’t react.
He remained seated exactly where he was, leaning back slightly in his chair with an indifferent, almost arrogant expression on his face.
One elbow rested casually on the armrest while his fingers tapped lazily against the table.
It was as if the woman’s anger had nothing to do with him at all.
The girl grew even angrier at his indifference.
“Harold Graves!” she snapped sharply. “If you didn’t want to date, you shouldn’t have come on this blind date!”
Her voice echoed sharply through the quiet elegance of the restaurant.
Still—
Harold didn’t argue. Didn’t apologize. Didn’t even bother looking guilty.
Instead, he remained seated with a stubborn, almost pleased expression, as though this exact outcome had been what he had been waiting for all along.
The woman glared at him for another furious second before grabbing her purse off the table.
“Unbelievable,” she muttered.
Then she spun on her heel and stormed out of the restaurant through the opposite door, her heels striking the floor sharply with each angry step.
From several meters away, Hannah and Emma both watched her leave.
Back at the table, Harold leaned back in his chair with an unmistakably satisfied look on his face, as if the disastrous blind date had gone exactly the way he had hoped.
After a moment, he pushed his chair back and began to stand.
But just as he got to his feet, Hannah suddenly appeared in front of him—Emma being half-dragged along behind her.
Harold froze.
In the next second, Emma stumbled forward slightly and almost fell onto Harold, her hands instinctively lifting to catch herself. A flustered look immediately spread across her face as he looked down at her, clearly not understanding how things had suddenly turned into this situation.
A wave of shame and embarrassment rushed up her neck.
Harold looked completely caught off guard.
Emma stood quietly in front of him.
She was wearing a pink dress that reached her knees, the fabric falling in smooth lines around her. Her hair was loose over her shoulders, soft and slightly wavy. She looked simple, elegant… and unexpectedly pretty.
Strangely, Harold realized he had never really noticed her before.
Every time they had met in the past, it had always been in a group, surrounded by friends and other people. He had never paid her much attention.
Just then, Hannah suddenly stepped forward.
Before Harold could even react, she grabbed his hand, then took Emma’s, and firmly placed their hands into each other’s.
Harold’s brain froze.
His flushed and flustered expression snapped upward as he looked at his mother in shock.
“Mom—”
But before he could say anything, Hannah spoke first.
“Harold, this is Emma. I think she’s perfectly suitable for you. So from now on, the two of you will date each other.”