Chapter 14
Wesley Hawthorne’s gaze cut through the dim room like a blade, locking with Serena Whitmore’s eyes.
The study was lit only by a single desk lamp, its warm amber glow casting sharp gold along the contours of his face. Serena raised an eyebrow, her fingertips tapping the rim of her coffee mug. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” Wesley said, each word cool and deliberate, “that as of today, to the outside world, the Whitmores and the Hawthornes are officially joined at the hip.” He narrowed his eyes. “If this is just some ploy to get under Julian Blackwell’s skin, you didn’t need to go this far.”
Her coffee mug hit the table with a thud.
Serena let out a short, incredulous laugh. She’d risked her most valuable mining assets, and he still thought she was doing this out of spite?
The silence between them twisted into something tense. Misread.
Wesley straightened, his expression turning cold. “I don’t need your charity.”
“Charity?” Serena stood abruptly and slapped a document against his chest. “Don’t flatter yourself, Mr. Hawthorne.”
Wesley caught the sliding pages and flipped to the first. His fingers froze mid–turn.
It was a formal transfer agreement–three diamond mines in Africa, all owned by the Whitmore Group. Every page bore Serena’s handwritten signature.
“This isn’t charity,” she said, walking toward the door. Her heels struck sharp, decisive notes against the marble. “It’s trust.” Her hand paused on the doorknob. She glanced back, mimicking the low tone he’d once used beside her hospital bed. “You’re not the type to let me lose… are you?”
Wesley held her geze for a beat. Then a soft, humorless chuckle escaped his throat. “Of course not
The door clicked shut behind her, leaving the r
room in silence.
Wesley remained seated, unmoving. After a moment, he returned to the contract, examining each page. Her signature was present throughout. Even the notary stamps were in place.
This wasn’t a whim. She’d planned everything.
His phone buzzed.
Mr. Hawthorne, the four major families have partnered with three banks. They’ll be filing to freeze our assets tomorrow. Wesley’s eyes flicked to the final page. The total valuation was enough to plug every financial hole at the Hawthorne Group. He crossed to the floor–to–ceiling window. The city glittered below like scattered gold dust.
A year ago, when he’d left the East Coast, Serena had still been chasing after Jullan Blackwell like a lovesick schoolgirl.
And now this?
Too clean. Too sudden.
He picked up his phone and dialed. “I want a full review of Serena Whitmore’s movements over the past six months. Forget Blackwell- look into her contacts in Switzerland.”
He hung up, fingers absently tracing the document’s edge.
Every rational instinct told him this was a setup. But the look in Serena’s eyes when she’d said “trust“…
“Damn it,” he muttered, yanking his tie loose.
By morning, the financial world was in freefall.
Just hours before the four families and their partner banks could initiate asset freezes, a Swiss consortium announced a $5 billion Injection into the Hawthorne Group–channeled entirely through the Whitmore Group.
The announcement hit like a bombshell..
In a Blackwell Group boardroom, Julian Blackwell slammed the table. “Find out what the hell Serena and Wesley are up to. Now!”
Meanwhile, Serena sat with her legs crossed in Wesley’s office, scrolling through financial headlines on her phone.
“Pleased with yourself?” Wesley strode in, flanked by assistants carrying armfuls of files.
Serena twirled her phone in her hand and grinned. “Not bad, Mr. Hawthorne. You turned their ambush into a joke in under twenty–four hours.”
The assistants quickly excused themselves, sensing the change in the room.
Wesley walked up to her chair, braced his hands on either side, and leaned in, boxing her in. “Why?” he asked, his voice low. “Those mines were your mother’s dowry to you.”
Serena caught the faint scent of his cologne–amber and dragon’s blood–tinged with the bitterness of sleepless coffee. She tilted her head, her lips brushing close to his jaw. “Because I believe you’ll turn them into an even bigger dowry.”
Wesley’s pupils contracted slightly.
The office door burst open.
“Wesley Hawthome, what the hell is going on?” Julian Blackwell stormed in, only to freeze at the sight of their proximity.
Serena felt Wesley’s body tense.
She gave him a light shove and smoothed her skirt with a lazy smile. “Mr. Blackwell, ever heard of knocking?”
Julian’s face twisted. “Serena, you seriously think he’s genuine? Wesley’s using you. He doesn’t give a damn about you!”
Wesley stood straight, adjusting his cuffs with measured calm. “You came all the way here to say that?”
Julian sneered. “You think this one win changes everything? The real war’s just starting.”
He slammed the door behind him.
The silence left in his wake was heavier than before. Wesley’s gaze lingered on Serena.
“What?” she asked, brow raised. “Don’t tell me Julian actually got to you.”
Wesley reached out and ran a thumb along the corner of her lips. His voice dropped, low and dangerous. “Serena… you’d better not be playing me.”
His touch was rough, the pad of his thumb grazing her skin with just enough bite to sting
Serena caught his wrist and met his stare. “Wesley, the worst thing a gambler can do is fold mid–game.” She nipped lightly at his fingertip “And I never fold
That night, Wesley didn’t return to its villa.
Instead, he holed up in a private apartment, reviewing the investigation file just delivered to him.
Serena had cut off nearly all contact with Julian in the past six months. More Interestingly, she’d had people shadow his movements in Switzerland
And three months ago, she’d sold off every gift Julian had ever given her. The proceeds had been funneled into an anonymous fund. Wesley stood at the window, his thoughts circling something just out of reach.
Then his phone lit up.
Auction tomorrow. Come with me?
He stared at the text. A reluctant smile tugged at his lips–gone almost as soon as it appeared.
He typed a single reply: Sure.
Then fed the report into the shredder.
Whatever Serena was hiding, he’d find it.
But until then…
His reflection in the glass revealed the faint, unmistakable curve of a smile.
D
