"Get Caspian in here. Now," Gideon Hughes growled, his voice tight with barely suppressed rage. He rarely summoned his son with such venom—Caspian was his golden boy, the polished professional who rarely gave him cause for concern. But this time, the rot had gone too deep.

Moments later, Caspian walked into the study. He had just returned from the hospital, his features drawn, a heavy, suffocating aura clinging to him.

"Dad. Mr. Harrison," Caspian greeted them, his tone clipped. He glanced toward his father, brow furrowed. "You wanted to see me?"

"You little shit," Gideon barked, slamming his hand against the mahogany desk. "Rose Harrison has a marriage history, and you didn’t think to mention it to us?"

Caspian froze. His heart skipped a beat. *Damn it.*

He caught the glint of steel in his father’s eyes and took a breath to steady himself, his expression hardening. "Dad, this is a misunderstanding. Let me explain."

Albert Harrison, sensing the atmosphere turning into a pressure cooker, stood up. He clearly had no desire to be a witness to a public unraveling of the Hughes family dynamics. "Caspian, why don’t you and your father have a private word? I’ll take my leave."

The moment the heavy oak door clicked shut behind Albert, the room erupted.

"Explain yourself," Gideon demanded, his voice dropping to a dangerous, icy calm. "Why hide it?"

Caspian felt the walls closing in. He knew his father’s rigid expectations; he knew exactly how they would look at Rose if they knew the truth. "Dad, my marriage is my business. I didn't want you looking at her through a judgmental lens."

"Is that your excuse for lying to us?" Gideon snarled. "Since when is a marriage—something that dictates the future of our family—just 'your business'? Do I mean nothing to you? Does your mother?"

"I love her, Dad. I’m going to protect her for the rest of my life. Besides, if I marry her, the Harrison and Hughes legacies will finally be aligned. Isn't that what you wanted?"

Down the hall, Veronica Hughes heard the roar of her husband’s voice. Her delicate brows knit together in worry as she climbed the stairs.

"Caspian! You—"

"What is going on in here?" Veronica pushed the door open, her sharp gaze cutting through the tension. "I could hear you both shouting from the foyer."

The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. Gideon glared at his son, then gestured vaguely toward him, his face twisting in frustration. "Ask your 'perfect' son."

Caspian turned to his mother, his shoulders slumping as if carrying the weight of the world. "Mom, Rose has been hurt by a total piece of trash."

"What 'trash'?" Gideon cut in, his patience shredded. "Let's stick to the facts, Caspian. Rose was already married. Period."

Veronica gasped, her hand flying to her chest. "What? How is that possible?"

"It happened while you three were living abroad," Gideon spat.

Caspian bristled, his protective instincts flaring. "So what if she was? She’s marrying me now. Isn’t that all that matters?"

"You arrogant brat," Gideon hissed, stepping closer. "It’s not about the past, it’s about the lies. If I hadn't stumbled upon this myself, were you ever going to tell us the truth? And tell me this—is the baby yours?"

Caspian’s eyes flickered, just for a fraction of a second. He looked away, his jaw tight. "Of course he is. Whose else would he be?"

The tension in the room snapped, replaced by a cold, calculating relief. Gideon’s shoulders sagged, his anger dissipating into something more transactional. If the child was a Hughes, the bloodline was secure. Even if Rose never woke up, the heir was theirs.

Gideon’s face softened, though his tone remained sharp. "Rose’s past isn't the problem, Caspian. The deceit is. We aren't close-minded people—we could have worked through this together if you’d just been honest."

"Exactly, Caspian," Veronica added, stepping forward and laying a hand on her son’s arm, her voice measured and smooth. "We’re family. Everything can be negotiated if we’re all on the same page."

Caspian simply nodded, his face a mask of silent compliance. He didn't say another word.