ery gleamed under the crystal chandelier. The private chef had prepared a
e sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. Jessenia sat to his right, with
e of mashed carrot with
bbled happily.
He looked at his son. "Your pronunciation is getting bet
her sparkling water, playing the
He looked at Harlan wi
dly, pointing a sticky finger at the dining r
d his mouth with a linen napkin. "Paris
yes gleaming with sudden, sharp interest. "Oh? Hav
scraped violently against the bone china plate. The s
d beating. The air in h
a romantic trip to Paris the Thanksgiving before she got pregnant. But the truth was, Harlan had been in Dubai on a
lted her head, her voice d
the island that you absolutely hate Paris? You sai
turned his head and looked at Jessenia. His eyes w
at rolled down her spine. The timeline was broken. If Harlan
ed slightly breathless, but
the boy's hair. "You're getting your stories mixed up. That w
an. She kept her e
in his brain was working. He was a billionaire who buil
ogation. She prepared to watch her ent
he sudden tension in the room. Harlan's jaw tightened. The instinct to protect
his face tightening in genuine discomfort. "I don't know. My head hurts." He shi
s expression. He wasn't confirming her story, but he was actively choosing to sup
s silence. She let out a soft, emotional s
ered. She let a single tear pool in her eye. "
disbelief. She had tried to blow up the table, and inste
hands. "Yay! Dad
d. The crisis
room. She leaned her back against the heavy wooden door and sli
d. Green tea bitches probed. She needed something solid. She needed
/1/112884/coverbig.jpg?v=76f045126f4ebd9db216b3f46298d06b&imageMogr2/format/webp)