CHAPTER 2 — The Man Who Was Never a Farmer
The boutique doors remained locked.
No one inside moved.
Outside...
The tallest man opened the rear door of the middle SUV.
Not because someone important was arriving.
Because someone infinitely more important had just stepped out.
Christian.
The same man who fixed broken fences on weekends.
The same man who wore faded jeans.
The same man whose old Honda shook every time he started the engine.
Except...
Nothing about him looked ordinary anymore.
He wore a charcoal overcoat tailored so perfectly it seemed sculpted onto him.
Leather gloves.
Polished shoes.
A simple silver watch.
No jewelry.
No unnecessary luxury.
Power did not need decoration.
The twenty men straightened simultaneously.
Not military.
Something stricter.
Respect.
Christian ignored all of them.
His eyes searched only for Chloe.
He found her sitting on the sidewalk.
Mascara streaked.
Hands bleeding.
Trying very hard not to cry anymore.
Everything inside him stopped.
He knelt without caring that the pavement was wet.
Carefully lifted her scraped hands.
His jaw tightened.
"They pushed you."
She forced a smile.
"I'm okay."
He looked directly into her eyes.
"No."
His voice barely rose above a whisper.
"They made you believe you deserved this."
She tried to laugh.
"It was only a dress."
Christian slowly slid her engagement ring back onto her finger.
"No."
"It was never about the dress."
He removed his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders.
Then stood.
One of the men stepped forward.
"Sir."
Christian answered without turning.
"Who owns this building?"
"The boutique owns the lease."
"I asked who owns the building."
The man checked his tablet.
Silence.
Then...
"The Harrington Family Trust."
Christian nodded once.
"Call Edward."
The bodyguard froze.
"Now."
Inside the boutique...
Genevieve's face lost its color.
Jessica frowned.
"Who's Edward?"
The manager whispered...
"Edward Harrington."
Jessica shrugged.
"So?"
The manager looked terrified.
"He's the man who owns half of Fifth Avenue."
Jessica laughed nervously.
"Why would someone like that care?"
Nobody answered.
Thirty seconds later...
Edward Harrington himself walked through the boutique doors.
Seventy-three years old.
One of the richest real estate owners in America.
Every employee immediately bowed their heads.
Genevieve rushed forward.
"Mr. Harrington, this is such an honor—"
He walked straight past her.
Stopped in front of Christian.
And...
Lowered his head.
"I'm terribly sorry."
The boutique went silent.
Every phone recording dropped slightly.
Jessica blinked.
Genevieve forgot how to breathe.
Edward continued quietly.
"I should have been informed sooner."
Christian's expression never changed.
"You weren't."
"No."
"I wasn't."
Edward slowly turned toward Genevieve.
"What happened here?"
Genevieve finally found her voice.
"There seems to be some misunderstanding."
Christian interrupted.
"There isn't."
He looked directly at Genevieve.
"My fiancée entered your boutique."
"You mocked her."
"You insulted her."
"You had security assault her."
"You watched."
Every sentence landed like a verdict.
Genevieve swallowed.
"We reserve the right to refuse service."
Christian nodded.
"So do I."
Nobody understood what he meant.
Until Edward whispered...
"Oh God..."
Jessica stared between them.
"What is happening?"
Edward answered.
Very quietly.
"The man standing beside that nurse..."
"...owns my trust."
The room froze.
Because Edward Harrington...
Owned more than three hundred commercial properties.
Which meant...
May you like
Someone above him...
Owned everything.
