Chapter 58

Annie's POV

As we entered the private dining room of one of Manhattan's prestigious hotels, Lucy's small hand tightened in mine, her shyness returning in this unfamiliar environment. I gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze,understanding her discomfort. These high-end settings still made me feel out of place sometimes-like I was playing dress-up in someone else's life.

Mr. Morgan rose to greet us, his warm smile directed particularly at Howard. His eyes flickered between Howard and Catherine with unmistakable expectation, and I felt awkward as I recognized his misinterpretation of our gathering. *Great, another person who thinks Howard and Catherine would make a perfect match*, I thought,then immediately questioned why that bothered me.

"Howard! It's wonderful to finally meet you in person," Mr. Morgan extended his hand with unmistakable enthusiasm, his eyes flickering between Howard and Catherine with thinly veiled expectation. "Catherine has spoken so highly of you."

"Dad!" Catherine interjected, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.Her eyes telegraphed a silent plea as she continued, "Mr. Thompson rarely accepts meeting requests from anyone."

Howard remained unruffled and began the introductions. "This is my daughter," he stated,gesturing toward Lucy.

*His daughter*. The words sent an unexpected warmth through me.Though Lucy wasn't biologically his, Howard had stepped into the role of father with such natural grace that sometimes I forgot their relationship hadn't always existed.

"Hello!" Mr. Morgan responded enthusiastically, bending slightly to meet Lucy at eye level.

Lucy offered only the slightest nod in acknowledgment,retreating partially behind me. I placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, feeling the tension in her small frame.

"And this is Lucy's mother," Howard continued,his hand making a subtle gesture in my direction.

*Lucy's mother*. Not Annie Baker, not the illustrator from his company.The introduction simultaneously warmed me.

Mr. Morgan's confusion was evident as his eyes darted between Howard and me, trying to determnine our relationship.

Catherine caught her father's questioning glance and mouthed silently,"T'll explain later!"

Once we were seated, Mr. Morgan transitioned to business matters,outlining the challenges facing his family enterprises.

Howard listened attentively, asking pointed questions that cut to the heart of each issue. His analysis was methodical and precise. I found myself admiring the way his mind worked-how he could distill complex problems into solvable components. It was the same precision he brought to everything, whether business deals or ensuring Lucy had her favorite breakfast.

"Can they be saved?" Mr. Morgan finally asked. "Yes," Howard responded with quiet confidence before outlining his solution. Mr. Morgan's expression transformed from worry to admiration as Howard spoke. I realized that Howard's appeal extended beyond his appearance or wealth. It made me feel simultaneously safe in his presence and acutely aware of how different our worlds were.

Despite Catherine's earlier warnings and obvious discomfort, Mr.Morgan eventually steered the conversation in the direction she had clearly been dreading.

"So,Howard," he began with barely disguised intention, "what do you think of my daughter? She graduated top of her class at Harvard Business School,you know."

"Dad!" Catherine interjected desperately before Howard could respond. "In Mr. Thompson's eyes, I'm definitely a qualified employee!" Her voice carried forced brightness as she attempted damage control. "I'm still learning so much from him."

I found myself holding my breath, irrationally interested in Howard's response. The thought made me uncomfortable in ways I wasn't prepared to examine.

Raising her glass of fruit juice in Howard's direction, she added hastily,"Mr. Thompson, rest assured that I'll work hard at the company in the future!"

Howard acknowledged her statement with a slight nod. "Good,"he replied simply.

I felt a ridiculous surge of relief. Catherine's practiced smile didn't falter.Catherine had moved on, I realized. The way she spoke about working hard at the company sounded genuine.

Back at the Long Island estate, Thomas, Lucy's exercise coach, was waiting."We're going to increase intensity today," he announced.

Lucy adapted readily to the more challenging routine. I attempted to match her energy despite the fatigue I'd been feeling.

As we reached the running portion, dizziness washed over me. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead as I fought to maintain composure. The monthly cramps intensified.

Howard caught the momentary falter in my stride and signaled Thomas to pause.

"I think that's enough for today," Howard stated firmly.

After arranging for Thomas to be driven home, Howard approached me with concern.

"Annie, are you feeling unwell?" he asked quietly. "You've been pale since the middle of the run."

I considered deflecting, pretending everything was fine-a habit developed during years with Philip, who'd had little patience for "female problems."But there was something in HowardI's expression that made prevarication seem unnecessary.

"It's...um...that time of the month," I explained awkwardly, unused to discussing such personal matters with him. "Makes me more fatigued than usual."

I braced myself for discomfort or dismissal, but Howard's expression remained attentive and concerned. No judgment, no disgust.

Lucy, who had been gathering her water bottle and towel, approached us with concern evident in her expressive eyes. "Should you rest?"

Lucy suddenly turned to Howard, her expressionearnest."Dad,I read that a heating pad and chamomile tea help with cramps. Could we get some for Mom?" Howard nodded immediately. "Of course. I'Il arrange it right away."

I watched him stride away, efficient and purposeful even in this unexpected scenario. How many CEOs would personally arrange for tea and a heating pad? The thought made me smile despite my discomfort.

While Howard stepped away to make arrangements, Lucy disappeared briefly before returning with a children's book. She settled quietly beside me on the sofa, opening the book without commentary but clearly intending to provide company.

Howard returned several minutes later carrying a steaming cup of tea and what appeared to be a high-end heating pad.

"The housekeeper said this blend might help," Howard explained, carefully placing the tea on the side table within my reach.

Lucy approached with the heating pad, handling it with deliberate care."I heard this helps with the pain," she offered softly.

"Thank you both. This is very thoughtful," I said sincerely,genuinely moved by their considerate gestures. Philip had never once, in six years of marriage, acknowledged my discomfort during these times. Yet Howard and Lucy, who had known me for mere months, showed such natural consideration. Later that evening, after Edward and Eleanor had tactfully suggested taking Lucy for a walk through the gardens-providing me space to rest-Howard remained in the living room,reviewing several documents. I noticed Howard's gaze occasionally drifting toward me, carrying an uncharacteristic hesitancy. The uncertainty in his expresson made me curious. "You probably need to work. I should head upstairs," I suggested,preparing to give him privacy.

"I have time now," Howard replied, setting his tablet aside. "Annie, would you like to talk for a while?"

"Sure," I agreed, resettling on the sofa.

An unusual silence fell between us-not our typical comfortable quiet, but something charged with unspoken thoughts. Howard seemed to be weighing his words carefully.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" I finally asked, breaking the unusual silence.

After a moment's consideration, Howard met my gaze directly. "I need to attend a charity gala."

The statement seemed anticlimactic after such buildup, and I waited for him to continue, sensing there was more.

"As you might have noticed, I don't have many female acquaintances,"Howard continued with careful precision. "Wouald you accompany me?" The invitation caught me off guard. A charity gala meant New York's elite-wealthy investors, society figures, possibly even Philip's social circle.The thought made my stomach tighten with anxiety. I wasn't ready for that level of scrutiny, for the whispers that would inevitably follow the divorced illustrator accompanying Howard Thompson. And yet...something in Howard's expression made refusal difficult. *What exactly would this mean?* I wondered. Was this just a business arrangement? "Alright," I nodded, accepting the invitation despite my reservations.Howard had done so much for Lucy and me-how could I refuse this simple request?

"Tll have Susan select appropriate attire and have it delivered to the ofice for you to try," Howard added, already shifting into hisefficient planning mode.

The practical consideration was both reassuring and slightly intimidating.Of course I would need special clothes-my modest wardrobe hardly contained anything suitable for the kind of event Howard would attend.

"And arrange for a stylist if you'd like," he continued thoughtfully.

"Is this gala very important?" I asked, curiosity winning over hesitation.

"Yes," Howard acknowledged carefully. "Many business partners will be there."

"But don't worry," HHoward assured me, correctly reading my concerns."I'lI be right beside you."

"Just stay by my side," he added with quiet certainty. "You don't need to do anything else."