At that moment, the silence in the suite was heavy too heavy. The question Mark had asked was still hanging in the air, but Cecilia didn't blink, didn't pause, didn't even look away.
She answered plainly, her voice low but clear, as if she had been holding the words in for years.
"Her name is Everly… and she's your daughter, Mark."
The words dropped like thunder.
Hearing the words Mark's body stiffened. His face changed, slowly, like it was trying to catch up with the truth he just heard. He didn't speak. He didn't move. It was as if the ground beneath him had just cracked open.
His breathing deepened. One hand reached for the back of a chair steadying himself.
He stared at Everly now. Not with confusion. Not with disbelief.
But with something far more powerful recognition.
The child looked back at him, her tiny fingers still holding onto Cecilia's hand. She tilted her head slightly, then looked up at her mother with a small frown.
"Mommy," she asked quietly, "is he really my daddy?"
Then Cecilia nodded slowly and gently bent down beside her daughter.
"Yes, baby," she said. "He is."
Everly blinked at Mark again. Her round eyes looked unsure, but curious. Her lips opened like she wanted to say something more, but the room was so quiet she just stood there staring at the man whose blood ran in her veins.
Mark could feel his heart thumping so hard it hurt.
He looked at Everly's eyes. They were like his.
The shape of her face his mother's.
The way she stood behind her mother when she felt nervous? That was exactly how he used to hide behind his nanny when he was a child.
Then he took a small step forward, his lips parting to say something but right then, his phone rang.
Loud and sharp, it broke the moment like a rock thrown through glass.
Immediately Mark pulled the phone out of his pocket quickly, already annoyed. He was about to decline the call—he didn't care who it was but the screen made him pause.
It was an International number.
Immediately Mark's brows furrowed. His fingers hovered for a second. Then he looked up at Cecilia with regret in his eyes.
"I have to take this," he said. "Just give me a minute."
She didn't argue. She just nodded lightly, her hand resting on Everly's shoulder.
Mark stepped away, walked out to the small hallway attached to the suite, and picked the call. His voice dropped low. Business tone.
"Yes. This is Giovanni… What?"
He paced quietly as he listened, his hand in his pocket, eyes narrowing. After a few minutes, he ended the call with a short "I'll be there."
At that moment he stepped back into the room, his face now serious.
"Cecilia," he said, his voice apologetic, "I need to leave for a quick meeting. It came up suddenly. It won't take long. Just a few hours. Please stay here. I'll be back quickly, I promise."
Hearing Mark request Cecilia didn't say anything for a moment.
She just looked at him.
Her eyebrows twitched, a movement so small only someone who knew her well would notice, Mark request was Just like before.
At that moment, Cecilia slowly knelt beside Everly. She cupped the little girl's cheek and tried to offer the softest smile her tired heart could give.
"Sweetheart," she said gently, brushing a small curl away from Everly's face, "he's just busy. He'll come back soon, okay?"
Everly's eyes stayed on the door. Her lips pressed into a line, and her small fingers clenched Cecilia's dress.
"I don't care if he comes or not," she muttered, looking down. "He's not my papa."
Cecilia's chest ached at those words.
Everly frowned harder, her tiny shoulders rising. "If he was my papa, he would've come to find you a long time ago. He would've looked for us. But he didn't. He never did. So I don't care about him."
Cecilia blinked fast. The words hit her deeper than she expected. Her lips parted, but nothing came out right away.
She wanted to explain wanted to tell her daughter the truth, that it wasn't so simple… that Mark could've found her if he truly tried. That maybe he didn't. That maybe he chose not to. That maybe pride was louder than love.
But how does she explain pain to a child? How does she explain five years of silence? Before she could speak again, a loud noise came from the door a metallic click followed by the door swinging open with force.
Cecilia stood up instantly, pulling Everly close.
The door didn't just open. It had been pushed open.
Lady Willow walked in first, her heels like drumbeats on the floor. Behind her came the rest of the Giovanni family two men, a young woman, and several hotel staff, all of them stepping in like they owned the place.
Immediately Cecilia's eyes went to the hotel staff. Their heads were down, embarrassed.
They had forced the door open.
"You can leave," Lady Willow said sharply to them, not even looking back.
Without wasting anymore time the hotel workers turned and walked out quickly, one of them whispering apologies under his breath before the door shut behind them.
Lady Willow's cold gaze shifted back to Cecilia as she slowly walked deeper into the suite. Her emerald dress shimmered under the lights, but there was no beauty in her face only bitterness.
"What do you think you're doing, Cecilia?" she asked, her tone sharp and rising with each word. "You left my son five years ago. You disappeared without warning. And now you show up in front of the whole world, during the most important day of his life, like a ghost out of nowhere?"
She scoffed, her lips curling.
"Is this some kind of show to you? You're trying to ruin him again, aren't you?"
However Cecilia didn't respond. Her arms were wrapped around Everly protectively, her back straight, her eyes calm but alert.
But Lady Willow wasn't done, she turned her sharp eyes down to the child clinging to Cecilia's side.
Then her face twisted in confusion and something close to disgust.
She pointed at Everly.
"And who is this, I ask again?"
At that moment, before Cecilia could say a single word, the door swung open again this time not with force, but with speed and urgency.
A young woman, dressed in a shimmering gold gown that hugged her perfectly, stepped into the room. Her makeup was flawless, her hair styled in a soft wave that framed her delicate face, but her expression was far from graceful.
She looked upset—no, furious.
"Mother!" she called out sharply, her heels clacking against the marble floor as she rushed in.
Then Lady Willow turned around.
The young woman stopped just beside her and gasped slightly for breath, her chest rising and falling. Her voice cracked with disbelief.
"I just saw Mark leaving. What's going on? Is the event over?" she asked, her voice sharp with panic.
She face Lady Willow with teary eyes, clutching the side of her dress.
"You told me he was going to choose me! You said today would be the day he'd announce me as his bride!" Her voice shook. "I already planned the after-party! The press! The dress reveal! Everything!"
She looked completely heartbroken, her mascara starting to smudge slightly. "How could you do this to me, Mother?"
At that moment Lady Willow's expression didn't flinch. She reached out to gently hold the young woman's arm.
"Lillian," she said firmly. "Calm down."
She glanced at Cecilia with cold eyes, then turned back to her daughter.
"Mark will come back soon," she said with strong confidence. "And as for the party… yes, it's over. For now."
Immediately Lillian's lips trembled. She looked as if she might cry.
Lady Willow leaned closer to her and whispered with a voice filled with poison.
"But you can still be Mark's future wife… if we deal with this wretched witch in front of us."