---- Chapter 7 Abby Talley POV: The celebratory dinner that followed the ceremony was a tense, surreal affair. The initial shock had worn off, replaced by a flurry of frantic whispers and sideways glances. | sat at the head table between a grim-faced Howard Barrett and a silent, watchful Brannon. Connor' s seat was conspicuously empty. No one mentioned his name, but his chaotic exit hung over the room like a shroud. As the waiters cleared the main course, | felt a light touch on my arm. | turned to find Brannon holding out a glass of champagne. "To new alliances," he said, his voice a low murmur. | clinked my glass against his. As | took a sip, his scent washed over me-a clean, sharp fragrance of sandalwood and something uniquely his. It was a scent | remembered. It was the scent that had filled my senses in my last moments of my past life, not as a source of pain, but as one of comfort. Amemory, vivid and brutal, flashed through my mind. | was on the floor, the life draining from me, and the door burst open. It wasn't a doctor, or a servant, or even Connor, who had finally come to see what the commotion was. It was Brannon. He had knelt beside me, his face a mask of horror and disbelief, ---- and had tried to stop the bleeding. He had whispered my name, his voice thick with a grief | hadn't understood at the time. Then another memory followed, one | had only witnessed as a lingering spirit. Brannon, finding Connor in the study, his hands and clothes pristine. The confrontation had been swift and merciless. Brannon had dismantled his brother not with corporate strategy, but with his bare hands, avenging a death no one else even knew was a murder. He had been my silent champion, my unknown avenger. In that moment, | knew with absolute certainty that | had made the right choice. This man, this cold, ruthless corporate raider, was the only person in this family who had ever truly fought for me Howard Barrett stood up, tapping his glass for attention. The room fell silent. "Tonight," he began, his voice heavy, "we have witnessed a significant shift. My family... has had its challenges." He glanced at Brannon, and for the first time, | saw a flicker of something that looked like pride in the old man' s eyes. "But the future of this company requires a steady hand. A strong hand. Brannon has proven himself time and again to be that hand." He raised his glass. "To my son, Brannon, the future of the Barrett Corporation." It was a public declaration. He was anointing his successor, ---- right here, in front of everyone. He had chosen his ruthless, efficient older son over the charming, unstable younger one. My choice had not just secured my future; it had cemented Brannon' s. Suddenly, the ballroom doors burst open. A disheveled, drunken Connor stumbled into the room, his eyes blazing with a wild, desperate fire. His wrist was crudely bandaged. "A steady hand?" he slurred, laughing maniacally. "You' re giving my company to a monster?" He pointed a shaking finger at his father. "You would choose him over me?" "Security!" Howard barked, his face turning a dangerous shade of red. "No!" Connor staggered towards our table. "Not until she tells me why." He fell to his knees in front of me, grabbing the hem of my dress. "Abby, look at me. Tell me this is a nightmare. Tell me you still love me." Howard scoffed. "She made her choice, you fool. Let her speak for herself." | looked down at the pathetic man kneeling at my feet. "There is nothing left to say, Connor. You and | are finished." | paused, then added, "Perhaps you should go comfort Jana. | 'm sure she' s very worried about you." The mention of her name seemed to sober him up slightly. A ---- flicker of confusion crossed his face. "Jana? What does she have to do with this? This is about us!" He truly didn' t understand. He thought his dalliances, his affairs, were mere footnotes in the grand story of his life, of our life. "You think this is about her?" he asked, a bitter, desperate laugh escaping his lips. "You think ' m throwing away my future for some... fling? Abby, | did this for you. | was trying to make you jealous, to make you see how much you wanted me." It was the most twisted, narcissistic logic | had ever heard. "The only thing | want," | said, my voice as cold and sharp as ice, "is to be Mrs. Brannon Walls." The words hit him harder than Brannon' s fist had. He stared at me, his mouth opening and closing silently. Then, with a guttural roar of pure rage, he lunged across the table, aiming for me. He was fast, but Brannon was faster. He moved like a striking snake, his body a blur of motion. He grabbed Connor' s outstretched arm, twisting it behind his back with practiced, brutal efficiency. Connor screamed in agony. ---- "She," Brannon growled, his voice a low, lethal threat that was more terrifying than any shout, "is mine now." He shoved Connor away, sending him sprawling to the floor. "You will learn your place." Security guards swarmed in, dragging a sobbing, struggling Connor out of the room. "I love you, Abby!" he screamed, his voice echoing down the hall. "Don' t let him have you!" | didn' t watch him go. | turned to Brannon, who had already retrieved his glass of wine, his composure perfectly restored. He avoided my gaze, taking a long, slow sip.