20. Chapter 20
C rispin
Then the room was shifting again like the set of a well-choreographed play-dinner was announced, seating guided, glasses refilled.
He watched as Aria took her place at Ophelia's side, her movements lacking their usual grace. It was almost like she was trying to disappear.
He noticed Laura, Dorian's mother, lean towards her and say something. Then, like a blade, Ophelia said something sharp.
The moment passed, but Crispin's heart stayed in his throat.
She shouldn't have to do this without me by her side, came a stray thought.
His eyes swept the room but returned to her bent head, time and time again, like a homing pigeon.
Again. Again. Again.
He was vaguely aware of his mother announcing something.
"Please join me in congratulating Thomas Ashcroft's well-deserved promotion as our newly appointed chief operating officer. "
Polite applause. Crispin nodded, forced a smile.
Good. That's it.
But she wasn't done.
"And," she said, raising her voice slightly, "there's more."
Her eyes were on him with a determined glint.
He blinked.
No. No, she wouldn't-
"Crispin has asked Helga to be his wife."
What?
The applause was immediate.
Someone whistled and a camera flashed. Helga dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a napkin like someone humbly receiving a crown.
Crispin's heart hammered.
His eyes weren't on Helga, they were on her. What was she thinking? Did she believe this? Of course, she did.
Aria sat frozen, lips slightly parted, hands hidden in her lap .
She hadn't moved, but her expression said it all.
Shattered.
He tried to catch her eye, willed her to look at him.
But she didn't.
A tear slid down her cheek.
She wiped it away with a napkin, quick and quiet. But he saw it. Of course he saw it.
He couldn't breathe.
Around him, conversation resumed. Wineglasses raised. Helga leaned closer, brushing his hand with hers like it meant something. He firmly pushed her hand away with disgust colouring his expression.
And Aria... Aria sat across from him with the poise of a statue carved from grief.
He felt like he was dying.
He watched as all the actors in this macabre play looked at her.
His mother, smug .
His father, calm and victorious.
Helga, gleaming and cold.
Alice, softly devastated.
Even Ophelia.
They all knew.
He didn't taste his food. Didn't hear what Helga whispered in his ear.
He only watched the girl with the cracked phone, the callused hands, and the silver crane cufflinks he hadn't dared wear tonight.
The girl he would never deserve.
The one he'd just lost.
Dinner dragged on endlessly.
Until finally, it was over .
She rose from her chair like a ghost, silently drifting through the crowd. She moved like a sleepwalker, navigating between beaded gowns and expensive suits with no recognition on her face. The light glanced off her hair and the opal at her throat, but her eyes were flat and distant.
He couldn't follow her. Not yet.
He had to wait.
Then, when the moment allowed, he leaned towards his mother and Helga, voice tight. "Meet me in Dorian's study. Now."
The door closed behind them with a soft click, but the fury in the room was immediate.
"What the hell was that?" Crispin snapped, turning to Helga, voice low but razor-sharp.
Helga blinked. "I assumed you were going to-"
"You assumed ?" he hissed. "You lied. I never asked you to marry me."
Helga's jaw tightened. "You didn't deny it."
He spun to his mother. "Did you know about this?"
She lifted her chin. "Helga told me you'd proposed. "
"I didn't," he said flatly. "Because I have no interest in marrying her."
His mother stiffened. "Is this about that girl? The cleaner?"
That did it.
"Why?" he demanded, stepping closer, voice cracking around the edges. "Why would you do this? Do you hate me that much?"
His mother's brows lifted, as if surprised by the desperation in his voice, but she said nothing.
So, he kept going, words tumbling out like something he could no longer control.
"Do you know what you just did to her? To me? You think this was some strategic move to protect the family name, but what you did was destroy the only good thing I had."
His voice dropped to something raw. A whisper meant only for truth. "She's the air I breathe. The other half of my soul."
Helga let out a broken sound. "You're humiliating me."
He turned to her. "No. You humiliated yourself. I told you this wasn't real, but you chose not to listen. "
His mother's voice tightened. "You're throwing away your future, our legacy."
He laughed, bitter and low. "No. I'm finally telling the truth."
"You think we'll allow this?" she snapped. "That girl-"
"I don't need your permission," he said sharply.
"I can make her life very difficult," she said with an undercurrent of challenge in her voice.
The last thread snapped.
Crispin's voice rose like a whip. "Don't you dare."
His mother blinked.
"Don't you dare hurt her like that. You-who chairs three charity boards for disadvantaged women and lectures rooms full of socialites about empathy-I saw how you looked at her."
"You're making a scene," his father said coldly.
"I don't care," Crispin said, chest heaving. "You want the truth? I need her. Even if I never married her, I was never going to let her go. "
Helga took a step forward, face pale. "You told me-"
"I never lied to you. I have never made it a secret that I am not the least bit attracted to you. This was a convenient agreement, one that is at end," he snapped, then added, quieter, deadlier, "I have been lying to myself. She's worth a thousand of you."
The silence was thick.
Crispin looked at the floor, then at the wall, and finally, back at his mother.
"I can't live without her,", he confessed. “Don't make me hate you more than I already do."
His mother looked as though she'd been slapped. "You're being ridiculous. I will never allow this."
He met her eyes, no softness left in his. "I don't need your permission."
His father's voice cut in like a blade. "Then don't expect the CEO role. I will not hand this company to a man who throws away his legacy for some passing infatuation."
Crispin didn't flinch. "This isn't over."
He turned and walked out, his shoulders tight, slamming the study door behind him. The chandelier light blurred as he quickly moved through the house.
Then, just as he reached for the brass handle -
"I don't think she'll forgive you."
Crispin turned, frozen.
Alice stood near the window, still and pale, her hands clasped tightly before her. She hadn't spoken the entire time, had merely watched everything with those wide, unreadable eyes. She had followed him out.
"She looked like she has given up," she said quietly, finally meeting his gaze. "And you didn't deny anything. You let them all look at her like that. You let it happen."
Crispin swallowed hard. "I know. And I am sorrier than you’ll ever know."
His shoulders slumped as he made his way to the door.