Using the transaction logs from Gwh''s phone, Hawthorne finally managed to track down the restaurant where her friends had gathered for dinner.<fn8bdd> This content belongs to find(?)ovel</fn8bdd>


    By the time he arrived, the group was already several drinks in. When they saw Hawthorne walk in, a few of them blinked, half-convinced the alcohol was making them see things.


    But when it was clear Mr. Everhart himself had shown up, someone quickly


    nudged Gwh, who was slumped over the table, her head resting on her arms.


    "Gwyn, Mr. Everhart''s here to pick you up."


    Gwh seemed to catch the sound "Everhar" and lifted her head on instinct. But the face she saw wasn''t Hawthorne''s-it was McNeil''s.


    "Daddy, I''m sorry... Mommy''s so sad, please don''t leave her for Violet, Daddy..."


    She sounded like a little girl again-six years old all over, watching her fathere to take her to Violet''s house on Winding Peak Lane. Her mother stood behind her, stiff as a puppet, while Gwh, annoyed, just wanted to leave with her father.


    Hawthorne slid an arm around the drunken woman, frowning as he noticed her flushed cheeks and the way she mumbled incoherently.


    "Mrs. Everhart''s had too much to drink, Mr. Everhart. You should take her home," someone offered.


    The sight of Hawthorne sobered up more than a few in the group. Gwh could be wild, but none of them could match Hawthorne''s intimidatingposure. They were all a little wary of the young CEO.


    He scooped Gwh up in his arms and carried her toward the exit. Judging by her state, she''d had far more than a single bottle-how much had she really drunk?


    She kept muttering as he carried her, but the only word Hawthorne could make out was "Daddy."


    So, even in her drunkenness, she wasn''t thinking about herself at all.


    Once he''d settled her in the car, Hawthorne''s phone buzzed with a call from Patti Yale.


    "Hawthorne, where are you? I''ve had too much can youe get me?"


    The background noise was loud on Patti''s end. Hawthorne nced down at the woman in his arms and answered, "Just text me your address."


    Gwh shifted restlessly against him, her breath heavy with the scent of liquor. Hawthorne asked Hans to run out and buy a bottle of iced tea, then gently helped Gwh drink it, mouth to mouth.


    "So hot..." Gwh murmured, eyebrows knitted, her face twisted in difort.


    "Easy. We''ll be home soon," Hawthorne soothed, watching her closely. When they arrived, he took her straight upstairs, refusing to leave her side for even a second. "Go pick up Miss Yale at this address," he instructed Hans.


    He''d never seen Gwh this drunk before and had no intention of letting her out of his sight.


    After changing her into fresh clothes, Hawthorne wiped her down with a warm towel before tucking her into bed.


    The care and fuss seemed to help, and Gwh sobered up a little, though the room still seemed to double around her.


    "You?" she asked, blinking at Hawthorne, half-convinced she was still hallucinating.


    "How much


    did you


    drink?"


    Hawthorne scolded gently as he


    dabbed her flushed face with the


    B


    warm towel "Even if you''re celebrating, there''s no need to drown


    yourself in alcohol. Don''t you know how bad it is for you?"  s


    Gwh brushed his hand away, her tone t.


    "Hawthorne, do you love me? Or-no-did you ever even like me?"


    She wanted an answer. They''d only signed the marriage certificate, not held a wedding, and it wasn''t toote to call it off. Divorce would just be paperwork. Hawthorne frowned, reaching out to tap her cheek, but Gwh pulled away.


    "Look me in the eye and answer."


    Hawthorne met her gaze, unwavering.


    "Gwyn, I''m not the kind of man who falls in and out of love. When I choose someone, it''s for life. I love you-otherwise, I wouldn''t have wanted to marry you."


    Gwh wondered how a man could lie so smoothly to his own wife, as if he''d rehearsed every word.


    "Who was that woman at the exhibition today?" she pressed. "She said you two grew up together, that I''m the one who came between you."


    Hawthorne''s face grew stony, his gentle expression icing over in an instant.


    "You''re drunk. Get some rest."


    His refusal to talk only made Gwh more upset. She''d tried to be understanding and trusting, but her parents'' rtionship had taught her that appearances could be deceiving  s


    She''d been six years old back then-old enough to remember everything Violet had always acted like she adored her father, but


    McNei never truly crossed


    line


    gone


    with her. Victoria had misunderstood. McNeil had too far out of gratitude, perhaps, but if either of her parents had been honest about their feelings instead of bottling everything up, maybe things wouldn''t have ended in tragedy.  s