Chapter 7
Gregory clenched his jaw as Truman stared at Winifred as if no one else in the room existed. Annoyed, he stepped forward and said flatly, “Mr. Truman Chappell, right? Here for the party?”
Joseph frowned, watching closely. ‘Why is Truman so focused on Winifred? Something isn’t right, he mused.
“I brought a gift,” Truman said, snapping back to the moment. “Just not for Mr. Joseph Hoffman.”
Gregory’s voice turned sharp. “It’s my grandfather’s birthday. If you’re not here for him, then why show up? Don’t let us keep you.” He’d never liked Truman–not that he could explain why–and this little stunt wasn’t helping.
Truman didn’t flinch. “The person I came for is standing right here, or I’d rather be anywhere else.”
Without another word, he grabbed a delicate gift box from one of his men, ignoring the hushed murmurs, and walked straight to Winifred.
Winifred felt a wave of panic as all eyes turned toward her. Rooted to the spot, she stared at Truman in silent alarm. Their agreement had been clear–she would return after the divorce was settled. His sudden public gesture went against everything they’d arranged.
All eyes turned as Truman walked up to Winifred, holding out a gift. “Happy birthday, Winifred,” he said warmly.
A quiet ripple of surprise spread through the room. No one had realized she shared a birthday with Joseph–she’d kept it quiet all these years.
Gregory never remembered her birthday. Joseph offered to celebrate it properly every year, but she always refused, insisting she didn’t want any fuss.
“Winifred,” Joseph said, his voice heavy with disappointment, “you should have told me.”
He turned to Gregory with a cold stare. “And you! You don’t even know your own wife’s birthday?”
The realization turned Joseph’s stomach. The Hoffman family had neglected something so basic, leaving it to some outsider to be the first to show
her kindness.
Gregory’s face darkened. He pressed his lips together and said nothing. Three years of marriage, and he’d barely noticed Winifred at all–her birthday was the least of his concerns.
Gregory glared at Winifred, his mind racing. ‘So now we’re divorcing, and she pulls this stunt? Trying to make me look bad in front of everyone? And since when does she know Truman?‘
Winifred hesitated, watching Truman’s face for any hint of what he was planning.
Without waiting, Truman opened the box to reveal a dazzling crown with a ruby the size of a thumbnail.
The sophisticated guests immediately recognized the crown’s value. “A ruby!” someone whispered. “That stone alone is worth millions–not to mention the diamonds surrounding it.”
Even as the Chappell family’s heiress–no stranger to priceless jewels–Winifred couldn’t help but frown at the extravagant gift. ‘Why would Truman give me this?‘ she thought.
Truman ignored her silent question. He lifted the crown from its case, handed the empty box to a guard, and carefully placed it on her head. Then he knelt on one knee, took her hand, and kissed it softly. “Welcome home, my princess,” he said.
A murmur of shock rippled through the crowd. Gregory’s face drained of color, his jaw clenched, a vein throbbing at his temple.
Winifred looked down at Truman, kneeling at her feet. The gesture unsettled her.
Then she felt Gregory’s glare, sharp as a blade. When she met his eyes, the cold fury in them sent a jolt through her.
It was the same look he’d given her that stormy night when his hands were around her throat. She had no doubt–if they’d been alone, he wouldn’t have stopped.
She turned away quickly, forcing a smile as she tugged Truman up. “Mr. Chappell, thanks so much. Please… you don’t have to do this.”
Then Gregory was there–grabbing her, yanking her back against him. His arm locked around her waist like an iron band, squeezing the air from her lungs.
She looked up into his face–every muscle taut with rage, his control hanging by a thread. His eyes burned like live coals, barely restrained.
