With a soft click, Lilah captured a photo of the ring on Gerard's finger, posting it on social media. The image stood alone, a statement without the need for captions.

Envy ran rampant across social media as people beheld the intimate display.

"Tell me, Lilah, what's it Like to be with the wealthiest man around?" someone typed, half in awe, half in envy.

Others were captivated by more than just wealth. “Those hands of Mr. Harris, they're like artwork all on their own."

Yet, amidst the admiration, there were biting comments tinged with jealousy. "Pretty face aside, what's Lilah really got? Just wait, she'll be old news before she knows it!" one hater commented.

Lilah's defenders didn't miss a beat. "Seems like someone's not been paying attention. Lilah, the celebrated L.P, has her designs fetching millions for each. With global accolades and a billion-dollar company under her belt, she's a powerhouse. Can you say the same about yourself?"

The hater scoffed at the defense. “Big deal. Gerard's a giant among tycoons, raking in more daily than she might see in a year.

Aristocracy seeks its like; she's not in his league. They won't tie the knot in the end."

"But doesn't she have her own wealth, enough to be happy on her terms? Why the bitterness? Better to focus on your own hustle," chided another.

The comments section mirrored a battlefield, a divide of champions and critics. Lilah, however, took it all in stride. She knew the spectrum of opinion was broad, and her focus remained on excelling in her own right.

For her, Jerrold was her flesh and blood, and she was determined to keep him close, with or without Gerard by her side.

Breaking the chain of online voices, she looked at Gerard and asked, "You saw Katie's posts earlier, right? Didn't you have any doubts?"

His reply was a fortress of calm. "I've mentioned this before,"

Gerard said, his voice a steady current. “If I had doubts about us, we wouldn't be here now.”

In that moment, Lilah felt her heart dance to an uncertain but hopeful rhythm.

She decided to share the events of that night, about Andrew being drugged. Gerard, with Andrew now out of the picture, seemed less concerned.

Dinner that evening was an intimate affair for the three of them, radiating warmth and comfort. Jerrold's speech was blossoming beautifully, and his fondness for nestling in Lilah's embrace, even during his silent moments, was heartwarming.

Post-dinner found them clustered around the television, bathing in the soft glow and familial bliss. Gerard excused himself for a shower, and on his return, he found Jerrold once again cradled in Lilah's arms. He effortlessly scooped up the child with one hand. "Bath time," he announced, despite Jerrold's soft protests.

A hint of a smile played on Lilah's lips until she caught sight of something peculiar. Gerard was using his right hand with ease, the very hand that had supposedly been too injured to even wield a knife-thus her role in feeding him.

Their eyes met, and Gerard's facade slipped just enough for Jerrold to tumble back into Lilah's secure hold. Gerard coughed slightly, masking his discomfort. "I've been exercising it; looks like it's nearly back to normal.”

Nearly? The hand that just lifted Jerrold with such ease was not just on the mend-it was fully restored. A gentle ruse!

Lilah's gaze bore into him, a mix of mock irritation and affection.

Gerard, slightly abashed by his own deception, ushered Jerrold toward the bathroom before returning to Lilah's side. "Sweetheart, I never meant any harm."

Lilah remained focused on the TV, crunching on a snack, her expression unreadable.