A Birthday Gift

"For now, there's no rush," Khalia finally said, her voice calm yet laced with confidence. "I already have a plan to foil their schemes. But something about him seems… suspicious. I want to know what skeletons he has hidden in his closets."

Mael gave a small nod, his golden eyes reflecting understanding. "I'm on it."

"Good." Khalia's expression softened slightly before she shifted the topic. "By the way, are the documents ready?"

"Yes, young Miss." Mael confirmed smoothly. "They are prepared and ready for whenever you need them."

"Thank you, Mael." Khalia's lips curved into a small, appreciative smile before a teasing glint entered her eyes. "And while you're at it, make sure you visit Paris. Who knows? You might meet someone and fall in love."

Mael's lips twitched into a gentle smile, though there was something unreadable in his expression. "I will definitely visit Paris since you recommended it, young Miss. But as for falling in love…" He shook his head slightly, his voice dipping into something softer. "I don't think so."

'I can never fall in love with any other woman but you, my queen.'

The thought echoed through Khalia's mind, unfiltered and raw.

Her breath hitched for a fraction of a second before she quickly looked away, feigning indifference as she fought to steady her expression. She had heard his thoughts again. And as much as she tried to ignore them, each time they slipped through the mental barrier he should have had in place, it became harder to pretend they meant nothing.

She had always known that there was a way for Mael to block others from hearing his thoughts. So why… why did he never do it to her?

Brushing the tension aside, Mael straightened and gave her a courteous nod. "Have a good day, young Miss. I will take my leave."

With one last lingering glance, he bowed slightly, his ever-present smile still in place before his form dissolved into a mist of golden light, leaving Khalia alone once more.

She exhaled slowly, pressing a hand against her temple before shifting her focus. Picking up the book resting on her lap, she turned back to Sean, who remained unconscious in the hospital bed. Without missing a beat, she continued reading to him, as if the encounter with Mael had never happened.

Meanwhile, back at Rueben's grand estate, tension simmered within the walls of his office. Seated in an ornate chair, Rueben leaned forward, his hands clenched together in frustration as he spoke.

"I can't believe he would give her the freedom to choose a husband on her own." He said, his voice filled with disbelief and resentment. "He blatantly refused to accept you, but he expects Khalia to find her own husband? I just don't understand him sometimes."

Sierra, sitting gracefully across from him, let out a soft sigh, swirling the wine in her glass before taking a slow sip. "Honey, you know how much he values Khalia." She said matter-of-factly. "Because of her, he even refused to acknowledge Emily as his granddaughter. That man has always placed her above everything else." Her expression hardened as she placed the glass down. "We just have to revise our plan, that's all."

Rueben ran a frustrated hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "Revise?" He scoffed. "The entire plan is foiled. If Khalia marries someone else, we lose Mother's inheritance." His jaw clenched as he muttered bitterly. "Years of effort wasted just like that."

A tense silence settled in the room until Emily, who had been sitting quietly, finally spoke up.

"Then we ensure she doesn't find anyone." She said coolly. "Or marry anyone."

The air shifted instantly. All eyes turned to Emily, their gazes sharpening as they processed her words. A slow smirk formed on Rueben's lips as he leaned back in his chair, contemplating the suggestion.

"That's a great idea." He admitted after a moment. "But how? We'd have to make sure no one even dares to approach her."

A wicked glint flickered in Sierra's eyes as possibilities unfolded in her mind.

"Well." She mused. "I'm sure we can figure something out…"

Emily's lips curled into a confident smirk as she leaned forward, her fingers tracing the rim of her wine glass. "I know exactly how to handle this." She said smoothly. "Let everyone know that Khalia is Logan's fiancée. No one would dare make a move on her with Logan Roberts' name in the mix."

Rueben's tense expression immediately shifted into one of satisfaction. He let out a pleased chuckle and nodded approvingly at his daughter. "You are a genius, Emily. That would definitely work."

Sierra, lounging comfortably beside him, raised an eyebrow at the suggestion. "It's a strong move, but it won't be enough if no one ever sees them together." She pointed out.

Logan, who had been sitting silently throughout the entire exchange, finally spoke. His tone was calm but carried an edge of wariness. "She's right. It won't work unless Khalia and I are seen together."

Sierra tapped a manicured finger against her chin in thought before a slow smile spread across her lips. "Then let's make sure that happens. We need them out in public, somewhere upscale, where the right people will see them. A restaurant, perhaps? We'll arrange for them to be together and make sure the media gets involved. A few well-timed photos should do the trick."

Rueben nodded in agreement. "Good idea. Go ahead and make the arrangements. I'll work on convincing Grandpa to let her come."

Logan remained still, absorbing the conversation. While they spoke so casually about manipulating Khalia and Warren Austin, a disturbing thought crept into his mind. 'Have they been manipulating me, too?' His gaze flickered toward Emily, who sat poised and self-assured, her eyes gleaming with triumph. 'Was this all just some elaborate scheme to make me fall for her?'

He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to remain composed. 'I hope not… because I really do care about her.' His mind was set. He would confront Emily about it when they were alone.

Days bled into weeks, and despite her best efforts to avoid it, Khalia was forced to attend the restaurant gathering with her father and stepsister.

The timing had been carefully orchestrated Rueben had waited for the perfect moment. Warren's birthday had provided the ideal excuse, and as luck would have it, his old friend Leo had invited him to celebrate at one of his newest, most exclusive restaurants. Given their close friendship, Warren had readily agreed.

Khalia, on the other hand, was seething.

She knew without a doubt that this was some kind of ploy, another calculated move by her father and his family. She just didn't know exactly what they were planning. Ordinarily, she would have called on Mael to investigate, but she refused to disrupt his vacation for something as petty as that. That left her with only one choice: accompany her grandfather and keep her guard up.

Warren, ever the picture of dignity and wealth, was dressed in an exquisite three-piece suit tailored to perfection. The deep navy fabric complemented his silver hair, and the subtle embroidery along the lapels added an air of old-money sophistication. His signature gold pocket watch, an heirloom passed down through generations, peeked out from his vest pocket, a symbol of both his legacy and his unshakable authority.

Khalia, always matching her grandfather's elegance, wore a striking gown that seamlessly blended grace with power. The rich emerald-green silk hugged her figure, the off-shoulder design accentuating her delicate collarbones, while the intricate gold embroidery mirrored the accents on Warren's suit. A thigh-high slit ran along the side, offering just the right amount of allure, while her golden heels clicked sharply against the marble floor as she walked.

Mr. Clavette, Warren's ever-loyal right-hand man, was no less impeccably dressed. His jet-black suit was custom-fitted, the dark material contrasting sharply against his crisp white shirt and blood-red tie. A polished silver pin adorned his lapel, a subtle mark of his authority within Warren's inner circle. The quiet power he exuded made it clear that, though he was a butler by title, he was far more than that.

As they settled into the backseat of the luxurious Rolls-Royce, Khalia gazed out of the tinted windows, her mind racing through potential schemes Rueben might have laid out. She took a breath, preparing to speak, but before she could, Warren raised a hand, his expression gentle but firm.

Khali. He said, his voice laced with warmth, "I know you don't want to go. But it's my birthday. Can you just do this for me?" His sharp eyes softened, silently pleading for her to let go of her worries and enjoy the night.

Khalia blinked before allowing a small smile to grace her lips. "Actually, I just wanted to give you your gift before we arrived at the restaurant." She said, reaching into her clutch and pulling out a small, elegantly wrapped gift box. She handed it to Warren, watching as his expression immediately lit up with excitement.

His hands, though aged, moved with surprising swiftness as he untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. The moment he saw what lay inside, his eyes widened, and an uncharacteristically joyful laugh escaped him.

It was rare to see Warren Austin this openly delighted.