Chapter 219

Nina's POV

I stood at the entrance of Portland's Powell Hotel, my heart racing beneath my gown. As the newly appointed CEO of Sinclair Group, I'd finally secured an invitation to the Thorne family's annual charity gala. Truth be told, our company wouldn't normally make the cut, but Rachel Thorne made an exception. She personally sent the invitation via her assistant, mentioning that since we're now business partners, she wanted to "broaden our collaborative opportunities."

The invitation came in a envelope with gold embossing. I've moved out of the family estate, buying my own place in Pearl District. Angela, in her dress and perfectly coiffed hair, visited several times. She put on that fake smile of hers, going on about how "we girls finally have a seat at the table." She couldn't resist mentioning how Beatrice was practically under house arrest thanks to Lawrence. Her constant name-dropping of mutual friends and hints about "family legacy" made her intentions crystal clear - she wanted a piece of Sinclair's success.

Did she really think I'd forgotten all her tricks? I grew up watching her manipulate everyone at every country club event and charity board meeting. Her game plan was obvious: butter me up now, then start pushing for board positions and share transfers. I had security escort her out, even as she dropped her socialite façade and showed her true colors. I've worked too hard - no one's getting their hands on Sinclair's shares, not even family.

I'd spent three hours with my stylist perfecting every detail, expecting to own this red carpet moment. My heels clicked deliberately slowly on the carpet, waiting for the press to notice. After I took over Sinclair Group, I haven't given any formal interviews yet, and my PR team had prepped me thoroughly for tonight's event.

Just as I was chalking up the reporters' indifference to Portland aloofness, the atmosphere suddenly electrified. Turning around, I watched Atticus and Serena step out of a black Rolls-Royce. Every camera swiveled their way like moths to a flame. The reporters' enthusiasm made me feel like I was wearing last season's collection.

I tried telling myself their excitement was just for Atticus - this was a Thorne family event, after all. Of course, they'd fawn over Portland's most eligible bachelor. But then came the rapid-fire questions aimed at Serena, most having nothing to do with the Thornes or their charity foundation. The bitterness rose in my throat like bile.

Who does Serena think she is? Today's media circus has been a complete humiliation. And now she's cozying up to Atticus? Just because Lucas is with Rachel, she thinks she can just hop to the next billionaire? First Ian from the Whitmore fortune, then Lucas Harrington, and now Atticus Thorne - she's climbing the Forbes list one man at a time!

As I retreated crestfallen to the ballroom, someone shouted, "Mr. Harrington and Miss Thorne have arrived!"

Rachel's POV

I watched as Serena gracefully entered the ballroom with my cousin Atticus. I clenched my fists as I noticed how naturally she fit with him. Lucas stood beside me, his black suit impeccable as always, as we both observed their interaction. The soft jazz from the quartet couldn't mask the tension in the air.

"Looks like my cousin and Serena have really hit it off," I remarked, aiming for the casual tone. I glanced at Lucas, studying his reaction.

He remained stoic - typical poker face. To the casual observer, he might have seemed indifferent, but I knew better. The more he tries to hide his emotions, the more it shows how much he cares about her.

Tonight was supposed to be our moment. After a month of Grandfather's strategic maneuvering - keeping Lucas in Portland to oversee Thorne Enterprises' expansion - we'd finally announce our engagement.

Lucas hadn't fought it. He couldn't, not with the Thorne family's influence over the Portland shipping terminals his company needed. I'd promised him a marriage of convenience - just business. Once he helped stabilize our family's position, we could quietly divorce.

I'm not sure how much of that he actually believed, but he'd accepted it all in silence. Not that his belief mattered to me anymore - my goal was simply to secure the marriage. Once we're married, given both families' social standing and business interests, divorce would be practically impossible. Each step was calculated, leading him deeper into my carefully laid trap.

The press descended like vultures.

"Mr. Harrington, the market's buzzing about your involvement with Thorne Enterprises in Portland. Should we expect wedding announcements tonight?"

"Will you be dividing your time between Harrington International's Manhattan headquarters and Thorne's Portland operations after the wedding?"

"Miss Thorne, there's speculation about your relationship with Mr. Harrington's children. You've known each other for years - when did things change?"

While Lucas maintained his aloofness, I channeled my confident charm. "Lucas has been instrumental in advising on our expansion. Post-marriage, we'll both continue leading our respective operations. As for residential decisions between Manhattan and Portland, we're focused on business integration first."

Regarding Milo and Stella, I smiled warmly, "They're family to me. Having grown up together between Manhattan and our summer homes, they're as much mine as anyone's. But they're focused on their studies, and we'd appreciate privacy for their sake."

I whispered to Lucas. "I hope you don't mind my discretion about the children? The last thing we need is media's speculation."

"It's fine," he replied, his terseness in full effect.

Sometimes I feel like I'm performing in a one-woman show off-Broadway. But patience was a virtue my grandfather had drilled into me. Lucas would be mine - it was just a matter of time and strategy.

I put on my best concerned expression. "I just want to protect them from the gossip columns. They're like my own - you remember those years in London when they were little."

"I remember," he said, already scanning the room for potential investors.

I detected the perfunctory tone in his voice, and knowing he'd grow impatient if I pressed further, I let it go despite my dissatisfaction with his answer. Taking his arm, I walked with him into the hall.