I Made His Wife’s Dress Now I’ll Marry Another Chapter 05
The next morning, the first floor of the transplant center was full of Whitmores.
My grandfather, my father, Sabine, and Adrian were all there. Nathan Cross stood in front of one of the hospital’s donor walls, a silk pocket square from Whitmore’s new season tucked neatly into his breast pocket. A photographer hovered beside him.
“It’s just to document the Cross Foundation’s charitable patient visits,” Sabine explained gently. “Mom won’t be photographed.”
I looked at Nathan. “Neither will I.”
His smile tightened. “Clara, I’ve heard about your life in Paris. It’s hard for a woman on her own, doing behind-the-scenes work abroad. Once we’re married, you can come back to the brand and keep doing what you’re good at. I don’t mind if you don’t have a public title.”
“But I mind that you have no manners.”
Grandfather’s cane struck the floor. “Don’t be ungrateful. Cross is willing to cover all post-operative care and lift the freeze on your royalties.”
“Why should he be the one to lift the freeze on my royalties?”
“Because you have no cash and no seat on the board,” Sabine murmured, trying to persuade me. “Clara, saving Mom comes first.”
“Of course her mother should be saved.”
The unfamiliar male voice came from the revolving doors.
Julien wore a dark gray overcoat, the shoulders still damp with New York’s early-winter rain. He hadn’t brought an entourage, only a lawyer and the transplant center’s international coordinator.
He came to my side and looked into my eyes, waiting.
I gave the slightest nod.
Only then did he place a hand at the small of my back—not gripping, just a settled, protective gesture clear enough for every camera to read.
“As for her marriage,” he said, his gaze shifting to Nathan, “that doesn’t seem to be your concern, either.”
Nathan frowned. “And who are you?”
Julien took a card from the lawyer and handed it to him.
“Julien Moreau,” he said. “And the husband of the woman you were just planning to marry.”