She Shoved the Housekeeper's Little Girl Off the Piano Stool — Then the Billionaire Froze at Her Eyes
"Your child touched my piano," April said, and the piano stool was already empty.
Daisy's small girl, Lily, only wanted to hear the beautiful sound again. Now she is on the white marble of a Hamptons foyer, and April Kensington is telling the whole room that staff children should not be allowed to roam the estate. The wedding is in two weeks. April is not going to let one barefoot three-year-old stand between her and this family name.
Daisy reaches her daughter first and lifts her off the floor, one hand flat on the small back. She does not argue. She has worked this house for years, and she knows exactly what April was told before the engagement: that Marcus Ashford's first marriage ended with no children.
Then Marcus walks in from his study to stop the noise.
He does not look at the piano. He does not look at his fiancée. He stops in the doorway with something in his hand, and his eyes go straight to the child.
The thing in his hand slips and hits the marble.
Daisy, quiet, without lifting her head: "She has her mother's eyes."
April's onyx ring catches the light as her hand comes up. Nobody in the foyer is watching her anymore.
There is a framed portrait hanging in the library, and it has been hanging there the whole time — the late first wife, painted in honey-coloured morning light, her upturned hazel-flecked eyes filling the canvas. The same upturned shape. The same small fleck in the right iris.
The wedding planner's folder is still open on the console. The seating chart has both their names on it.
What exactly did Marcus Ashford see in that small face that made a man of his composure drop everything he was holding? Read the full story in the comments — the portrait, the fleck of hazel, and the name April Kensington was never told.
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