The rain was light that morning in Velmoré, a silvery mist hanging in the air like the city was holding its breath. I stood in front of the mirror in my office, adjusting the collar of my cream silk blouse, trying to remember if I'd ever been this anxious over a lunch meeting.
Sarah stood by the door, tapping her tablet. "She's confirmed. Brunch at Veronne's. Private table. Noon."
"Great," I muttered.
"You look stunning, by the way," she added, not looking up.
I raised an eyebrow. "You're being suspiciously kind."
She smirked. "Just trying to balance out your inner storm. Want me to walk you down or call security in case it becomes… emotional?"
I gave her a flat look, grabbed my bag, and walked out.
Veronne's was one of the most elegant restaurants in Velmoré—a favorite of politicians and CEOs trying to look casual. It made sense Blake's mother would choose it. Still, I hadn't expected to be nervous. Not with the reputation I'd built. But this was personal.
And I hated personal.
When I arrived, a hostess led me to a glass-walled private room that overlooked the garden terrace. Sitting there, radiant in soft pink and pearls, was the woman I'd only seen in magazine interviews and gala photos.
"Celine!" she stood with a warmth that was disarming. Not forced. Not theatrical. Just… genuine.
"Mrs. Aldridge," I said, extending my hand.
She pulled me into a light embrace instead. "Oh, call me Evelyn. Please. We're practically family already."
I forced a smile, sitting across from her as menus were handed out.
"I can't tell you how thrilled I am to finally meet you," Evelyn said, her eyes gleaming with the kind of joy that should've been infectious. Instead, it made me tense. "I've been waiting for Blake to settle down with someone for years. And now, it's not just anyone—it's you!"
I nodded carefully. "It's... all still new."
"Of course it is. Arrangements like this can feel formal. But sometimes, they're the ones that grow into something real." She reached for her water glass, her tone hopeful. "That's what happened with my husband and me, actually. We started off in a partnership—more business than passion. But eventually, it became everything."
There was no sadness in her eyes when she spoke of him. Only fondness. Reverence. And that hurt more than I expected.
"Blake talks about him sometimes," I said.
"He was a good man. Loyal, grounded, a little stubborn," she chuckled. "I see a lot of him in Blake. Though Blake's better at hiding it."
I sipped my water, letting silence sit for a moment. Then I asked, "And you're... truly happy about this arrangement?"
She smiled softly. "I know how it sounds. Two legacy families pushing their children together like chess pieces. But I'm not excited about the power it creates. I'm excited because I know my son. And I see something shift in him when he talks about you."
That caught me off guard. "Shift how?"
"He's careful with his heart, Celine. Too careful. It's like he thinks love is a liability. But he looks different when he says your name. Like he's already afraid of how much you matter."
My throat tightened.
"And I know this marriage isn't on your terms," she continued. "But Blake will never force your hand. You're strong. You're capable. And whether you fall for him or not, I want you to know I'm on your side."
It was unexpected. So was the lump forming in my chest.
"That's... generous of you."
"It's human," she replied. "I was a young woman once too. Trying to keep my voice loud in a world of men. You remind me of me, only braver."
We ordered. The food came and went in waves. Light pastries. Citrus salad. Tea I didn't touch. But the conversation? That stayed with me.
She told me about Blake as a child—quiet but always observant. How he used to line up his toy buildings in perfect rows. How he defended kids twice his size at school and refused to apologize for it.
"He doesn't do things halfway," she said. "When he commits, it's absolute. That's why he's afraid."
I didn't tell her I was too. That somewhere in me, beneath the resentment and resistance, was a mirror of his fear.
After we finished, she reached across the table and gently touched my hand. "You don't have to rush anything. I know how strong women operate—we lead with reason. But if your heart ever wants to catch up, I hope you let it."
I swallowed hard. "Thank you, Evelyn."
As we stood to leave, she gave me a small, gift-wrapped box.
"A silly tradition," she said. "Something old. My mother-in-law gave it to me on the eve of my engagement. You're not obligated to use it, but I wanted you to have it."
Inside was a delicate hairpin. Gold, brushed with faint sapphire stones. Timeless. Elegant.
I stared at it, unsure what to say.
"Sometimes even sharp women need something beautiful to hold them steady," she said.
I walked out of Veronne's unsure of what had just happened.
All I knew was that my guard, the one I'd worn like armor since this deal was struck, had a crack in it now.
And Evelyn Aldridge had made it without a single threat.
Only kindness.