The door of the black Maybach swung open.
Karson King stepped out. His long legs hit the pavement with heavy authority. His bespoke charcoal suit clung perfectly to his broad shoulders, radiating an oppressive, untouchable power.
He didn't look at anyone. His aura was freezing, a physical wall of ice that pushed the surrounding air away.
Hazel's heart violently contracted. A phantom pain shot through her chest, a leftover trauma from a life she had already lived. She dug her fingernails into the palm of her hand, forcing her spine to straighten. She met his gaze head-on.
Arthur, Karson's executive assistant, scrambled out of the passenger side. He clutched a black leather briefcase tight against his chest, his face pale and stressed.
Ermina immediately plastered on a warm, maternal smile and rushed down the steps. "Karson, darling, you're so late." She reached out to embrace him.
Karson shifted his weight, turning his shoulder just enough to let Ermina's hands grasp empty air. "The morning briefing ran long," he said. His voice was a low, mechanical rumble, completely devoid of affection.
Ermina awkwardly dropped her hands. She immediately spun around, aiming her embarrassment at Hazel. "If we hadn't wasted so much time waiting for her to sign the papers, we wouldn't be rushing."
Karson ignored his mother completely. His dark, piercing eyes finally landed on Hazel, and then on the child in her arms.
Serena whimpered. The sheer intensity of the tall man's glare terrified her. She buried her face deep into the crook of Hazel's neck, her tiny shoulders shaking.
Karson's brow twitched in annoyance. He hated weakness. He hated noise. He lifted his wrist, checking his Patek Philippe watch. "Get in the car. We are wasting time."
He hadn't spoken a single word to Hazel. He hadn't nodded. He treated her like a piece of ugly furniture blocking his path.
In her past life, this absolute dismissal had crushed her. Now, it just made her job easier.
Serena peeked out from Hazel's neck. "Mommy," she whispered, her voice carrying clearly in the dead silence of the driveway. "That mean man is scary... why is he just staring at us?"
The silence thickened, becoming heavy and suffocating.
Hazel didn't panic. A tiny, almost imperceptible smirk touched the corner of her lips.
She leaned her head down, keeping her voice at a perfectly normal, conversational volume. "Don't worry, sweetie. Mr. King's vocal cords are damaged. He is mute."
A violent, wet cough erupted behind Karson. Arthur had choked on his own saliva. He pounded his chest, his eyes wide with absolute horror as he stared at Hazel.
Ermina gasped, sucking in a massive breath of air. "Are you insane? How dare you curse the heir of the King family!"
Sterling's mouth twitched violently. He slammed his cane into the gravel to maintain his stern composure, but a muffled cough escaped his lips anyway.
Karson froze. His long fingers, which had been adjusting his suit button, stopped mid-motion.
He turned his head slowly. His eyes locked onto Hazel.
The air temperature plummeted. Arthur stopped coughing and held his breath, terrified of the explosion.
Hazel didn't blink. She stared right back into Karson's lethal gaze, widening her eyes slightly in a mask of perfect, innocent medical concern.
Karson's jaw locked so tightly the muscle ticked visibly beneath his skin. He despised being tested. He despised this manipulative woman.
But his massive ego and his obsession with dignity absolutely forbade him from standing in a driveway and arguing with a toddler to prove he could speak. It was beneath him.
Karson let out a sharp, cold exhale through his nose. He swallowed the rage, turned on his heel, and stalked toward the waiting stretch Lincoln.
Arthur wiped a bead of cold sweat from his forehead. He shot Hazel a look of pure, unadulterated awe before sprinting after his boss.
Ermina opened her mouth to scream again, but Sterling waved his hand angrily. "Get in the cars. Now."
Hazel kissed the top of Serena's head. "See? Nothing to be afraid of," she murmured.
She walked toward the Lincoln. The butler pulled the heavy door open. Hazel ducked her head, shielding Serena, and slid into the spacious leather interior.
Just as her hand reached out to pull the door shut, a figure stepped out from the garden path, physically blocking the frame.
It was Vivian, the second sister-in-law, holding the hand of her seven-year-old son, Leo.
