The garden was still bathed in fading golden light when I stepped outside. The sun was dipping behind the hedges, leaving the roses aglow in a soft amber hue. Evelyn walked beside me, quiet and serene, the hem of her dress brushing the cobbled path.
It was strange how different this place felt. Just inside, everything was rigid—cutlery polished to a mirror shine, conversation curated to impress. But here, beyond the manicured archways and stone fountains, it felt softer. Like the house had exhaled.
"He has a way of orchestrating everything," I murmured.
Evelyn smiled faintly. "Charles does what he thinks is best for the family. Even when he doesn't ask if you agree."
We strolled toward a wrought-iron bench nestled beneath a weeping cherry tree. Its blossoms had begun to scatter, pale pink petals fluttering down like soft rain.
I sat first, folding my hands on my lap, still processing the dinner, the gifts, the surprise of being called 'granddaughter' by a man I hardly knew.
"This garden was your grandmother's pride," Evelyn said, settling beside me. "Every bloom was handpicked, every corner designed with purpose. She believed beauty could ease the burden of legacy."
I glanced around at the tulips, the wild lavender lining the fence. "She must have been a remarkable woman."
"She was." Evelyn's voice softened. "Much like you."
I looked at her, skeptical.
She caught the expression and laughed gently. "I'm not trying to flatter you, Celine. I know this isn't what you wanted. This marriage. This merger."
"It wasn't," I admitted.
She nodded slowly. "But you haven't run. That says more about your strength than you think."
We sat in silence a while longer. The wind tugged at the petals, sending a few drifting onto my lap. I brushed them off gently.
"Why did you stay?" I asked finally. "After your husband died. After Charles kept pushing Blake so hard. Why stay loyal to this... empire?"
Evelyn was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "Because Blake needed someone to believe in the person he was, not just the man everyone expected him to become."
I looked down. That struck closer than I'd expected.
"He's not cruel," she continued. "Not like people assume. But he's careful with his heart. That comes from watching someone he loved get taken away."
I didn't reply. Because I understood that kind of grief, even if mine was different.
"He talks about you sometimes," Evelyn said, almost wistfully.
That made me turn. "He does?"
She smiled. "In his own way. Not often. But he notices things. How you cut through boardroom bluster. How you never apologize for being right. He respects that."
I swallowed the lump forming in my throat.
"You two are not enemies," Evelyn added gently. "Not really. Just two strong hearts afraid of bruising."
I exhaled, slowly. "And yet bruises feel inevitable."
Evelyn reached into her purse and pulled out a small velvet box. She held it out to me.
"What's this?"
"A family heirloom," she said. "It belonged to Blake's grandmother. A brooch. She wore it on her wedding day. It's yours now."
I opened the box slowly. Inside, nestled in cream satin, was a delicate silver brooch shaped like a crescent moon with a single pearl hanging from its center.
"It's beautiful," I whispered.
"She believed it brought clarity," Evelyn said. "That it reminded her the moon didn't need to outshine the sun to matter."
I closed the box gently, feeling its weight more in emotion than gold.
"Thank you," I said.
Evelyn reached over, squeezed my hand. "You don't have to love this family overnight, Celine. But let it grow. Let him grow on you."
The wind picked up, rustling the leaves overhead. I let my gaze wander back to the house, where behind stained glass windows and sprawling tapestries, Blake was likely discussing profit margins or legacy with his grandfather.
Legacy.
How often had I fought for mine?
And now it was tangled with his.
I wasn't sure I could ever love Blake Aldridge.
But maybe, just maybe, I could learn to live in the garden before trying to rule the estate.