Chapter 4 - The Vance EstateInstead of heading straight to the downtown hotel where my family was staying, the SUV wound its way along the scenic lakefront, eventually passing through massive wrought-iron gates guarded by armed security.
The gates opened to reveal a sprawling limestone estate that looked more like a European chateau than a home. Manicured gardens, fountains sparkling in the morning sun, and a grand gravel driveway greeted us.
"Mr. Vance, this is... this is a mistake," I said, my voice shaking as the vehicle came to a smooth halt. "I have to get to the wedding venue. My family—"
"Your family can wait," Alexander said as Marcus opened the door for us. He stepped out and turned back, holding out a hand to help me down. "My mother passed away years ago, and my sister lives in London. This house is entirely too empty. You and Sofi are going to wash up, eat a proper meal, and borrow something decent to wear."
"Borrow?" I echoed, stepping onto the pristine gravel. "Mr. Vance, I can't accept—"
"Alexander," he corrected firmly. "And it's not charity. It's a strategic alliance. You help me survive a three-hour family dinner tonight, and I provide you with sanctuary from yours."
I blinked. "A family dinner? You want me to go to a dinner with your family?"
A wry smile touched his lips. "My board of directors and my stepmother are hosting a gala tonight to celebrate Vance Global's latest acquisition. They've been trying to set me up with socialites for years. Walking in with a tired single mother and an adorable baby will send them into cardiac arrest. It'll be the best entertainment I've had all year."
I stared at him, realizing he was entirely serious. Behind the billionaire persona and the cold corporate reputation, Alexander Vance was a man at war with his own inner circle.
And somehow, I had just been recruited as his secret weapon.
Within twenty minutes, I found myself standing inside a walk-in closet the size of my entire Los Angeles apartment. Rows of designer dresses, shoes, and jewelry lined the walls. An elderly housekeeper named Mrs. Gable—whose stern demeanor melted instantly when she saw Sofi—was gently handing me a breathtaking emerald-silk gown that seemed to shimmer under the light.
"Mr. Vance instructed me to ensure you had everything you needed," Mrs. Gable said warmly, setting a bottle down for Sofi. "And dear? Don't let his bark fool you. He hasn't looked at anyone the way he looked at you on that plane in ten years."
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My cheeks flushed crimson. "We just met, Mrs. Gable. He's a billionaire; I'm a diner waitress."
Mrs. Gable smiled knowingly. "Power doesn't care about status, child. It cares about strength. And you survived thirty-six hours on no sleep with a colicky baby. You're stronger than half the board members coming tonight."
