Chapter 1 - The Broken Engagement
The room felt cold, despite the crackling fireplaces and the warmth of forty body temperatures pressed into a tight, quiet circle. Adrien stood motionless, his dark eyes locked on Vanessa’s hand.
“Give it to me,” he repeated. His voice wasn’t loud, but it possessed a deadly, low vibration that caused the guests closest to him to involuntarily take a step back.
Vanessa’s smile wobbled, cracking at the edges like cheap porcelain. “Adrien, don’t be ridiculous. It’s just a piece of hair. The child shouldn’t have been out here in the first place. I was simply making her look presentable before sending her back to the servants' quarters where she—”
“Hand it to me, Vanessa.”
Feeling the humiliating shift in the crowd's energy, Vanessa’s pride snapped. She thrust her hand forward, dropping the severed dark brown curl into Adrien’s open palm. “There! Happy? You’re making a grand spectacle out of absolutely nothing in front of the board members, the press, and our family friends!”
Adrien closed his fingers around the lock of hair with extraordinary gentleness, as if it were made of spun glass. He reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a silk handkerchief, wrapped the hair inside it, and placed it securely in his jacket.
Then, he turned to face his fiancée.
“The engagement is over,” Adrien said clearly.
A collective gasp echoed off the marble walls. Margaret Whitaker let out a sharp, satisfied breath, while several elderly socialites covered their mouths in disbelief.
Vanessa’s face paled, then flushed a furious crimson. “What did you just say?”
“You heard me. Take off the ring.”
“Are you insane?!” Vanessa shrieked, dropping her sweet facade entirely. The polished debutante vanished, replaced by a snarling, panicked woman. “You’re calling off our marriage—a merger between the Cole and Hastings empires—over a maid’s kid? Do you have any idea what my father will do to your logistics stock tomorrow morning? We have contracts!”
“And I have boundaries,” Adrien said smoothly, stepping closer to her. He towered over her, his presence suffocating. “I was willing to marry you because I believed you were a woman of grace, dignity, and quiet strength. I thought you would build a home with me. Tonight, you showed everyone in this room that you are nothing more than a cruel, insecure bully who attacks defenseless children to feed your own pathetic ego.”
“Adrien, wait—sweetheart, listen to me—” Vanessa reached for his arm, her eyes filling with desperate, strategic tears. “I was just stressed! The caterers were late, the press was demanding photos, and I wanted everything to be perfect for us! I made a mistake!”
“Security,” Adrien called out, ignoring her completely.
Two massive men in sharp charcoal suits materialized instantly from the periphery of the room.
“Escort Miss Cole off the property,” Adrien ordered. “Collect her belongings from the guest suite tomorrow morning. She is never to step foot on Hastings land again.”
“Don’t touch me!” Vanessa screamed as the guards respectfully but firmly blocked her path and guided her toward the heavy mahogany doors. She turned back, her eyes burning with pure venom. “You’ll regret this, Adrien! You hear me? I will ruin you! And as for you—” she glared down at Rosa, who was still kneeling on the floor, holding Mia— “you and your bastard brat will be begging on the streets by next week! I’ll make sure no one in this city ever hires you again!”
The heavy doors slammed shut, cutting off her screeching voice.
The ballroom was dead silent. Adrien turned his back on the crowd and dropped to one knee again beside Rosa.
Rosa was trembling violently. “Mr. Hastings... please, I am so sorry. I will pack my things right now. I’ll leave quietly—”
“Rosa, look at me,” Adrien commanded gently.
She lifted her tear-stained face.
“You are not fired. You are not leaving,” Adrien said. “And you will never apologize for protecting your daughter in my home again.” He looked down at Mia, whose small arms were still wrapped tightly around her mother’s neck. “Mia... I am so sorry for what happened to you tonight.”
Mia looked at him with those massive, gold-speckled brown eyes. “Are you going to cut my hair too, mister?”
Adrien’s heart squeezed so hard it was physically painful. The resemblance to his late sister, Elena, was not just strong—it was uncanny. Elena had possessed that exact same stubborn chin, those exact same striking eyes.
“Never,” Adrien swore quietly. “In fact, I’m going to make sure no one ever hurts you again.”
He stood up and faced the room of stunned elites. “The party is over. Thank you all for coming. My team will coordinate your cars.”
As the guests began to murmur and filter out, Margaret Whitaker walked up to Adrien, resting a warm hand on his shoulder. “You did the right thing, Adrien. Your mother and sister would have been proud of you tonight.”
“Thank you, Margaret,” Adrien murmured. But his mind wasn’t on the party, the broken engagement, or the impending financial war with the Cole family.
His mind was on the silk handkerchief in his pocket.
As soon as the house was cleared, Adrien walked to his private study and locked the door. He sat at his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a framed photograph. It was a picture of him and his sister Elena, taken four years ago at a cabin in Aspen, months before she ran away with an unnamed lover and cut ties with the family.
He placed the handkerchief next to the photo and stared at the dark curls.
Why does a maid’s daughter look like a Hastings? he thought, his blood running cold with a sudden, impossible suspicion.
May you like
He picked up his phone and dialed his private investigator, Marcus Vance.
“Vance,” Adrien said when the line connected. “I need a priority DNA test done tonight. Off the books. And I need a full background check on Rosa Delgado. Every hospital record, every address, every bank statement for the last four years.”
