It had been years since they’d last met, and Hayes had undeniably aged; yet he still carried himself with a certain authority–his hair slicked back, his suit perfectly pressed, exuding the unmistakable aura of a seasoned statesman.
Carlotta, on the other hand, seemed untouched by time. Thanks to her careful self–maintenance, the years had barely left a trace on her.
The first thing Niamh noticed was the glimmer of tears in Carlotta’s eyes.
Carlotta clung tightly to Hayes’s hand, clearly struggling to keep her emotions in check.
But to Niamh, that outpouring of feeling meant nothing.
She turned to leave, only to hear Hayes call her name.
“N–Niamh…”
She heard him, but didn’t stop walking.
It was Peter, her arm in his, who hesitated and came to a halt.
He looked puzzled, unable to fathom how the Secretary of State for Coralis could possibly know Niamh.
“Niamh, Mr. Quinn is calling you!” Marigold bustled over, shooting Niamh a disapproving look before turning to Hayes with a forced smile. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Quinn, she’s terribly rude sometimes.”
Hayes’s expression instantly chilled.
“Mrs. Thomas, you know Niamh?”
“Oh, yes, very well. I used to be her-”
Marigold didn’t get to finish. Sprague cleared his throat loudly.
Marigold snapped her mouth shut, suddenly remembering that none of the Quinn family had ever been told about Jonathan’s previous marriage–or subsequent divorce.
Sprague was fed up with Marigold’s lack of discretion.
Hayes’s gaze lingered on Sprague and Marigold, his eyes no longer friendly or polite.
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“Niamh, do you know these people?” he asked.
“Whether I do or not is none of your concern,” Niamh replied coolly.
Her tone didn’t seem to bother Hayes, but it certainly riled Marigold.
“What kind of attitude is that? Mr. Quinn hasn’t done anything to you-”
“Mrs. Thomas.” Niamh stepped forward, her face hard, closing the distance
between them.
Marigold instinctively shrank back, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the force of Niamh’s presence.
“You’re no longer my mother–in–law. You have no right to lecture me. Please, show some respect.”
“Mother–in–law?!” Hayes and Carlotta exclaimed in unison, both visibly stunned.
At that moment, Jonathan and Ramona walked over.
“Niamh is my wife…” Jonathan blurted out, leaving Ramona speechless at his side.
Niamh was equally stunned.
Shouldn’t he have said ex–wife?
Before she could say a word, Marigold jumped in, “They’re already divorced.”
Hayes’s frown deepened.
Marigold, misreading his reaction as disappointment that Jonathan was divorced and thus unworthy of their daughter, hurried to clarify, “Jonathan only married Niamh out of gratitude. His grandfather forced him into it–it hardly counts-”
“Enough,” Sprague interrupted, lowering his voice in exasperation.
Hayes never once looked at Marigold. Instead, his gaze swept past the assembled guests and settled on Carlisle.
Carlisle could feel the reproach in Hayes’s eyes, but he truly felt wronged. Years ago, when Katarina became Niamh, Hayes himself had told him there was no need to report on Niamh’s affairs.
Jonathan’s eyes flicked between Niamh and Hayes, suspicion gnawing at him.
His instincts screamed that Niamh and Hayes knew each other.
He opened his mouth to ask, but swallowed the question.
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He knew that even if he asked, Niamh wouldn’t answer.
“So, is this gentleman your boyfriend now?” Hayes finally asked, nodding toward
Peter.
Everyone could see Hayes’s concern for Niamh, but no one could understand why.
