Chapter 43 Steal The Married Woman From Her Husband
Keith emerged, donning a khaki trench coat and narrow-framed glasses that lent him an air of gentle sophistication.
"I believe Harper is exactly what you need," Keith stated calmly.
He and Hannah were cousins and shared a strong bond.
Hannah's lips curved slightly, acknowledging the truth in his words.
A new opportunity was indeed an exciting prospect.
"Why didn't you greet her just now?" she asked, a hint of curiosity in her voice.
"There was no need," Keith replied, his tone mellow.
He didn't want to impose any pressure on her.
"Has she caught your fancy?" Hannah ribbed him with a laugh.
Her cousin had remained detached and aloof for years, and this was the first time he appeared cautious over a girl.
Then, furrowing her brow, Hannah brought up a concern, "But her resume states she's married. You're not thinking of stealing her from her husband, are you?"
Keith had stayed out of sight earlier, likely meaning that Harper was still unaware of his feelings.
With a frown, Hannah warned, "With your credentials, you could find anyone. The last thing we need is you as the other man."
"No," Keith silenced his surging emotions with a firm response.
He knew when to act and what to do.
For now, his affections had to stay in the shadows, out of the light.
Hannah nodded resignedly. Despite Keith's calm demeanor, she knew him to be resolute. Once he made a decision, nothing could change his mind.
As long as he steered clear of sabotaging someone else's relationship, she would let him be.
After leaving, Harper stopped by the hospital to share the good news with her visibly elated grandmother, indulging in a heartier dinner than usual.
Back at the Moou Residence, Harper quickly packed her things, planning to move back to Clearwater Bay. The subway access there made her commute hassle-free.
Her stay had been an interlude for healing. With her wounds mended, there was no reason to linger.
Besides, Francis probably didn't want to see her again.
Just as she finished packing, Abigail arrived at Moou Residence. Harper's heart skipped a beat, and she hastily shoved her suitcase into the closet.
Downstairs, Abigail greeted Harper warmly, then insisted, "Harper, today's my grandpa's birthday banquet. I want you to join me."
'Abigail's grandpa is Francis's great-great-grandfather.'
Harper, startled, quickly gestured with her hands and said, "Mom, it wouldn't be right for me to go."
With the great-grandfather's birthday celebration drawing near, Francis, as a great-grandson, was surely expected to attend. Thinking about last night, Harper was a bit anxious about seeing him.
Besides, they were in the process of divorcing, and it didn't seem appropriate for her to meet with the elder family members of his.
Abigail smiled and said, "Great-grandpa has heard about you and is very eager to meet you. He's getting on in years, and I don't want him to have any regrets."
"But..." Harper's concerns were clear.
Understanding her hesitations, Abigail quickly added, "I know you're not ready. Rest assured, I'll just introduce you as Dylan's honorary granddaughter to others. No one outside will know your true identity."
With the conversation having reached this point, Harper didn't want to make things difficult for Abigail and nodded in agreement.
Abigail then took her to pick out a gown and get a hairstyle suitable for the evening event.
Upon seeing her after she was ready, Abigail was astounded. The light purple gown made Harper look as if she was an ethereal fairy stepping down from the heavens.
She couldn't help but exclaim, "Harper, you look absolutely stunning."
In her mind, Abigail plotted to make her clueless son a little jealous that evening.
'Isn't it said that jealousy is a catalyst for affection? Well, as their mother, I'll fan the flames.'
Soon, their car pulled up to the villa.
The guests arriving that evening were numerous, with luxury cars indicative of the occasion's grandeur.
The Hearst family had seen its peak during the era of Francis’s great-great-grandfather and was considered a household of high standing. But by the time of Abigail's father, it had fallen somewhat from grace.
Now, the only pride of the Hearst family was Abigail's son, Francis.
Although Francis wasn't directly descended from the Hearst line, the connection through blood was there, and the Westerlyn elite were more than willing to pay their respects to the Hearst family because of him.
Entering the hall, Abigail escorted Harper upstairs to meet the great-great-grandfather.
The great-great-grandfather was celebrating his hundredth birthday and appeared in good spirits with a clear voice.
Harper offered her blessings, which delighted the old man so much that he immediately gifted her a valuable jade pendant.
Knowing its worth, Harper was hesitant to accept, but Abigail insisted.
So, Harper graciously accepted the gift.
As Abigail chatted with her grandfather about family matters, Harper felt it was best for her to step out, making an excuse to wait elsewhere.
Once outside, she didn't want to wander aimlessly, so she stayed in a small sitting area on the second floor, one that overlooked the entire hall below. Harper chose a discreet corner to stand in.
Leaning on the fence next door, two gaudily dressed women were gossiping away.
"Have you heard? Tonight, Francis Getty will be there. What a chance to snag! Any idea what type of woman he goes for?"
"Forget it, girl. You're out of luck. Word has it he's always had eyes for that Musk heiress—on and off for years. She just got back into town, and their rumored flings have been the talk of the tabloids, haven't they?"
"That sickly thing of the Musk family? I can't fathom what charm she's got."
"Well, she's his first love. But you gotta admit Francis is quite the romantic, staying faithful all these years without a single scandal with another woman."
"Oh, I'm so jealous. To marry a guy like that, I'd proudly wear the title alone."
"Dream on, sweetheart. Ha ha, who wouldn't want to be Mrs. Getty?"
As they chattered obliviously, Harper felt a sour taste in her mouth.
She was different from most people. The title of Mrs. Getty held no allure for her.
'When you love someone deeply, sharing the person with others is out of the question.'
She turned to leave but bumped into the last person she wanted to see.
Amelia was stunning in her lake-blue evening gown, beaming with health.
With the Hearst family throwing this birthday bash, it was her turf. Since nobility was swarming all over, her mother had instructed her to seize the chance to land a good hubby.
Seeing Harper, Amelia showed no surprise. Approaching with a sneer, she mocked, "Harper, you really know how to play the game. The coveted Mrs. Getty title is just falling into your lap—how cunning of you."
Remembering her own shock upon learning the truth and the humiliation of being ousted from the Getty household, Amelia could barely contain her urge to tear Harper apart.
But, she held back. 'Harper is Francis's wife. Even though he doesn't adore her, I can't hurt her.
'However, that doesn't mean others can't touch Harper.'
With a venomous glint in Amelia's eyes, she decided to settle old and new grudges together today.
Harper frowned. It was the Hearst family's joyous occasion, and she had no intention of arguing with Amelia. She tried to sidestep her.
But Amelia blocked her path, intent on not letting Harper escape.
"Don't think I'm clueless. You trapped Francis into marriage to become Mrs. Getty, but what of it? He doesn't love you. His heart belongs to Chloe! Yours is a loveless union. If you had any shame, you'd step aside and let true lovers unite."
Harper didn't want to engage with Amelia, but that didn't mean she would let herself be insulted.
She scoffed lightly, "A loveless union? As long as I find it sweet, that's all that matters."
Harper had indeed enjoyed blissful ignorance over the past two years.
Amelia was infuriated by her retort. Pointing directly at her, Amelia seethed, "Have you no shame? What do you think you are? You're nothing compared to Chloe!"
"Oh," Harper said with a dismissive drawl, "then why didn't Chloe end up marrying Francis?"
"You...!" Amelia fumed, ready to lash out further, but something caught her eye, and with a cold smirk, she snorted, "Take a good look downstairs, then let's see how sweet this is for you."
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