Page 91 of Knocked Up By the Silver Foxes

Evelyn and Monica drift over together, perfectly timed, both of them in the kind of understated black that costs more than my entire dress, Evelyn’s smile the particular kind that means she’s already decided how this conversation ends and is enjoying the walk there. “Rebecca, Jason, so glad you could make it. I do hope the flight wasn’t too long.”

My mother brightens. “Evelyn. It was lovely, thank you again for thinking of us.”

Of course she invited them. Of course.

Evelyn’s eyes flick to me, then to Maddox and Asher standing on either side of me like a wall, and the smile widens. She looks like a woman who just watched her opponent walk directly into a trap she built months ago.

“HARPER.”

Sophia’s voice cuts through everything, coming in hot from across the room before I even see her moving, and for half a second her face is still lit up with whatever she was about to tell me, something about sales numbers, something good, her mouth already curving into the kind of smile she gets when a stranger compliments ROSÉ.

Then she sees who’s standing in front of me.

The transformation happens in real time, joy collapsing into something sharper and faster, and by the time she reaches us there’s nothing soft left on her face at all. She plants herself directly between my mother and me like she’s been doing it her whole life, gold dress swinging, diamond studs catching the light, and she’s somehow taller than she was thirty seconds ago.

“Mrs. Miller. Mr. Miller.” Her voice could cut glass. “How lovely. Did Evelyn happen to mention you weren’t invited by anyone who actually matters?”

“Sophia,” my mother starts, attempting warmth.

“Don’t.” One word, flat, final. “I’ve heard exactly what I needed to hear about both of you from the one person whose opinion I actually trust, and none of it makes me interested in small talk.”

“What’s going on?”

Killian’s voice cuts through the cluster before I even see him, and the crowd around us, which has started gathering with the specific instinct people have for sensing a scene, parts slightly as he comes through it.

He takes one look at my parents. One look at Evelyn. One look at me.

“You two,” he says, to my parents, with no warmth in it at all, “aren’t welcome here.”

“Killian—” Evelyn starts.

“I don’t care how they got on the list. I’m telling you now, in front of witnesses, that they’re not welcome on this property.”

My father’s smile doesn’t move but something behind it does. “It’s quite endearing,” he says, “to see how much you care about your… employees, Mr. Thorne. But we assure you, we’re only here to support our daughter. What better way than to attend the event her temporary position afforded her? Such a wonderful opportunity.” He pauses, eyes sharpening. “Speaking of opportunities⁠—”

“Actually,” I say.

Every head turns toward me, including the small crowd that’s gathered close enough to hear all of this without bothering to pretend they’re not listening.

My pulse is still going too fast. My hands are still unsteady at my sides. But somewhere over my father’s shoulder I catch the wall behind the registers, the gold cursive catching the light the same way it has all night. Celebrate your body as the rarity it is. My voice comes out steadier than I feel, which is the only thing I have going for me right now, so I lean into it with everything I’ve got.

“I think it’s probably best we don’t discuss supposed opportunities at an event built specifically to celebrate the hard work of this estate’s families and the guests who came to support them.” I look at my father directly. “You flew here on an invitation that wasn’t yours to accept, to a launch you have no connection to, for a business you’ve never once asked me a single question about. So no. We’re not discussing opportunities tonight.”

My mother’s mouth thins. “Harper⁠—”

“And to be clear,” I continue, because I’ve started and I’m not stopping now, “my position here isn’t temporary, and it isn’t charity, and it isn’t something I whipped together. I built ROSÉ’s launch from a floor plan and an empty room. I built the relationships with every vendor in that room behind us. I built the schedule that’s kept four hundred guests fed and entertained for six hours without a single complaint. That’s not a little something. That’s my job, and I’m extremely good at it.”

Nobody says anything for a moment.

“You’re embarrassing yourself,” my father tries.

“I’m not.” I look at him, then at my mother, and feel something settle in my chest that’s been unsteady since the moment I heard his voice. The shaking in my hands is finally starting to slow. “You flew across an ocean to crash an event you weren’t invited to by anyone who actually knows me, in the hope of catching me off guard in front of people whose opinion I actually care about. That didn’t work. I’m not seventeen anymore. I’m not going to apologize for a job I’m good at or a life I built without either of you, and I’m not going to stand here and let you imply I haven’t earned every part of it.”

My mother looks at Evelyn, like she’s hoping for backup.

Evelyn says nothing. Her smile’s gone tight at the edges.

Then Killian does something that makes my entire chest go cold. “Your father raises a fair point, actually,” he says, and his tone has shifted, gone smooth and faintly amused, the version of his voice I’ve only ever heard him use on investors. “Opportunities. We don’t discuss business at parties here, Mr. Miller. In France, that’s considered a bit gauche. Unlike across the pond, where I understand you do things rather differently.”