"My 8-year-old twins dropped their flower baskets at a billionaire wedding in Aspen—unaware the groom dropped his ring after recognizing his own eyes in their faces."

"Daniel!" Amanda shrieked, grabbing his forearm with both hands. "Look at me! We have two hundred guests sitting here! The Governor is in the third row! The press is waiting outside the lodge! You cannot do this!"

Daniel looked down at Amanda’s manicured fingers on his sleeve. His expression was flat, cold, and utterly devoid of emotion.

"The wedding is over, Amanda," Daniel said cleanly.

Amanda gasped as if she had been slapped across the face. "What?! You're canceling our wedding over an unwed maid who brought two random children into the room?!"

"They are my daughters, Amanda," Daniel stated, every word dropped with the weight of an iron anvil. "And their mother is the only woman I ever truly loved."

Amanda recoiled as if burned, her mouth opening and closing in total, horror-stricken shock, as her father—billionaire real estate magnate Arthur Sterling—stood up from the second row, his face purple with rage.

"Harden!" Arthur roared, stepping into the aisle. "If you walk away from this altar, Vance-Sterling Logistics terminates our thirty-percent equity backing in your European division by midnight!"

Daniel didn't even look at Arthur. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out his personal phone, and tossed it onto the empty altar chair.

"Terminate it," Daniel commanded smoothly. "Mateo."

From the back row near where I had been sitting, a broad-shouldered man in a dark charcoal suit stood up. It was Mateo—Daniel’s chief of private security and underboss for fifteen years.

"Yes, Boss?" Mateo responded quietly.

"Escort my mother to the private study in the north wing," Daniel ordered, his gray eyes fixed on Eleanor’s pale, trembling face. "Revoke her security clearances for all Harden family properties, freeze her corporate proxies, and do not allow her to leave the premises until I have spoken to her."

Eleanor’s silver-streaked chin trembled. "Daniel! I am your mother! I protected this empire when your father died! You cannot treat me like a criminal!"

"You stole eight years of my daughters' lives, Mother," Daniel whispered softly, his baritone dropping into a terrifying, lethal register. "You are lucky I am letting you walk out of this room."

Two broad-shouldered security operators stepped smoothly beside Eleanor, guiding her stiff, crying body out through the side mahogany doors toward the private wing.

Daniel turned back to face me and the girls.

The terrifying, ruthless authority that had just crushed billionaire investors and his own mother vanished instantly, replaced by a raw, desperate vulnerability that made my heart leap against my ribs.

He looked down at Betty and Mia.

"Hi," Daniel whispered, his voice trembling softly.

Mia, the braver of the two, stepped out from behind my skirt. She looked at his dark suit, then at his storm-gray eyes, and pushed out her tiny chin in a way that was so unconsciously identical to Daniel's posture it made several guests gasp.

"Are you really our dad?" Mia asked cleanly.