An Announcement
"She’s the woman he loves” Isolde snapped. “Which makes her more Vaughn than half of you in this room pretending your trust funds earned you a backbone.”
Gasps. Full-on gasps this time.
Rowan blinked slowly beside me, still stunned. His fingers slid around mine, grounding me even as I whispered to Isolde, “You really shouldn’t be here. You’re going to start a war.”
She smiled at me like I was adorable. “Then let them come.”
And just as tension crackled in the air, a deep voice broke through from the back of the room—
“Is this what the Vaughn family has become?”
Everyone turned.
The voice came from the far end of the hall—calm, commanding, and sharp enough to cut through the rising tension like a knife.
It was Rowan’s great-grand aunt.
All heads turned as she slowly rose from her seat, her cane tapping once against the marble floor before she straightened. Her presence, though small in stature, was impossible to ignore. Decades of authority laced every syllable as she looked around the room with thinly veiled disappointment.
“Look at you,” she said, voice crisp. “Fussing, whispering, insulting. Have you all forgotten what tonight is?”
Silence.
No one moved. Not even Sebastian.
“The gathering of names,” she continued, her tone heavy with tradition. “A night to honor the family’s past, the lineage, the ones who are gone and the ones still carrying the name forward.”
She turned slowly, sweeping her gaze across them. “And this is what you do with it? Turn it into a battlefield over gossip, inheritance, and bruised egos?”
Not a soul spoke.
“Shame on you,” she said simply. “Every single one of you.”
I stood there beside Rowan, unsure of what to say or do. Her words had cooled the fire in the room, but the chill left behind was just as heavy. It settled over me like smoke. I hated moments like this—when I felt like the outsider again, like the girl they never wanted at their table.
But I wasn’t that girl anymore.
So I cleared my throat softly and stepped forward. My voice trembled at first, but I didn’t let it stop me.
“Can we start over?” I said.
Dozens of eyes flicked toward me again. Cold. Curious. Calculating.
I offered a small smile and took a breath.
“My name is Remi Laurent. I’m a neurosurgeon. And I’m Rowan’s plus one. If it's okay we can start all over.”
No one clapped. No one gasped. But something shifted.
It felt awkward at first but when I look at the face of others in the room, I know that a beat of quiet respect passed through the room. Some of the younger ones avoided my eyes, ashamed. Others gave small, reluctant nods.
It wasn’t approval.
But it wasn’t rejection either.
And for a room like this, that was a win.
The great-grand aunt sat back down slowly, satisfied that the air had calmed.
A quiet fell over the room again. People returned to their seats, murmurs subsiding. Champagne flutes were adjusted. Silverware stopped clinking. It wasn’t warm, but it was civilized.
Rowan stepped forward next to me, his palm grazing mine for just a second.
He glanced around, then cleared his throat, letting the weight of the room settle around him.
“I have an announcement,” he said.
The entire room turned toward Rowan. Even those pretending not to care suddenly leaned forward. His voice wasn’t loud, but it didn’t need to be. When Rowan spoke like that—calm, clipped, emotion wrapped in steel—people listened.
“I’m not here to play politics or entertain your opinions,” he began, gaze sweeping slowly across the table. “But since this is a family event, and we’re all being... traditional, I thought it was time you all knew.”
A beat passed.
“I have children. Grandma mentioned it but you lot didn't take it serious so I wanted to confirm to you that I do.”
The room sucked in a collective gasp.
Sebastian, who had been half-asleep in his chair, sat bolt upright, eyes going wide. “Children?”
Rowan nodded once. “Twins. A boy and a girl.”
And then all hell broke loose.
Voices overlapped, forks clattered, someone dropped a wine glass and it shattered across the floor.
Sebastian slammed his cane down. “You were what? Pregnant—all those years ago?”
He turned to me, eyes wild with disbelief. “I remember beating you for not giving us an heir—do you mean to tell me you were pregnant the whole time?”
I didn’t respond. I didn’t flinch.
I just stared at him like he was something rotten in the corner of the room.
Yes. He’d hit me. I remembered it vividly—years ago, in a moment of rage, blaming me for things that were never my fault. Because that was who he was. That was who this family had always been beneath the wealth and pride.
Toxic. Controlling. Obsessed with bloodlines and power.
I glanced at Rowan, whose jaw was tight, his gaze cold. He was watching everyone. Not protectively. Not defensively.
Dangerously.
“I’m happy,” Sebastian muttered to himself now, almost disbelieving. “An heir. Two heirs. Finally.”
I hated how that word rolled off his tongue like we were breeders. Like Larry and Laura were prizes instead of people.
“They're not your property,” I said before I could stop myself.
His eyes snapped to mine, but I didn’t look away.
Rowan’s hand slid across mine under the table. He didn’t say anything, but the pressure was firm. Steady. I could feel the anger rolling off him in quiet waves.
A woman two seats away leaned forward, her voice sugar-sweet. “When will we get to meet them?”
“Are they already being trained in the company structure?”
“Do they know about the family name?”
“Have they been briefed—”
Rowan raised a hand and the table went silent instantly.
“No,” he said simply.
The word dropped like a hammer.
“No?” Sebastian echoed, blinking.
“They are children,” Rowan said. “They don’t need your drama. They don’t need your legacy. They’ll meet you when I decide it’s safe for them to be around all this.”
Another gasp. One cousin actually choked on her champagne.
“You think we’re a threat?” someone muttered.
Rowan’s expression didn’t change. “I think you’re a circus. And they don’t need a front-row seat.”
Lady Isolde leaned forward then, swirling her wine like she was watching a show she already knew the ending to.
“I knew all along,” she said, loud enough for the room to hear.
Everyone turned to stare at her.
She smiled faintly. “A woman always knows. Especially when the girl they cast out disappears with her hand over her stomach.”
I glanced at her, confused. “You never said anything.”
She gave me a sideways look. “You needed safety. Not exposure. I kept your secret. Not because I liked you, but because I hated the idea of them ruining another woman’s life for sport.”
It was probably the closest thing to a compliment I wa
s ever going to get from her.
A soft, awkward silence hung in the air.
Sebastian cleared his throat again. “So... when will you bring them here?”
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