Carla couldn't quite explain why she felt such a strong fondness for Freya, a girl she'd never even met.

"What's so different about her?"

Old Mrs. Ryan frowned, her tone sharp. “Carla, I mean this as your mother-in-law: you're too soft on Farrell! Spare the rod, spoil the child, as they say. Look at him— does he even seem like a grown man anymore? Girlfriends come and go, not a single serious relationship in sight. If you don't find him a wife who can actually keep him in line, he'll end up just like your brother!"

She was talking about Carla's younger brother, Hassan Blake.

At forty-five, Hassan was still drifting aimlessly through life. He switched girlfriends like socks, never settling down, and any extra cash he had went straight into impressing women-never into building a future.

The mention of her wayward brother made Carla lower her head, embarrassment silencing her.

Old Mrs. Ryan continued, "I may not have met Freya yet, but I know the Gonzales family inside out. Keira, Stuart, Carey-they're all good stock. I'm sure Freya is beautiful, and I don't doubt her character for a second."

Such a pity.

Farrell was stubborn to the core he wouldn't even agree to meet the girl.

Meanwhile...

Skyler woke up to late morning sunlight streaming through the curtains.

His head throbbed-splitting pain, the kind that made every heartbeat feel like a hammer blow.

He glanced at his phone. Ten-thirty.

"Shit!"

He bolted upright on the couch, panic setting in. He had a meeting at noon. Drinking was never worth it.

"You're finally up."

Gordon emerged from the bathroom, looking as composed and aloof as ever. The hangover was gone; he'd slipped back into his usual untouchable formality, as if the vulnerable man from last night had never existed.

"Uncle?" Skyler blinked, confused. "What are you doing here?"

"Obviously, I stayed to keep you company." Gordon's face was frosted over with cold disdain. "What, did you think I'd spend the night here for my own amusement?"

"Keep me company?” Skyler's mind flickered with half-memories. He glanced at Gordon warily. "Uncle, did you...did you cry last night?"

He remembered Gordon drinking-copiously. He could even picture his uncle draped over him, sobbing like a heartbroken fool.

"I didn't. You imagined it." Gordon shot him a withering look. "Do I seem like the type to lose my composure like you?"

Skyler scratched his head. True, his uncle hardly seemed the type to drink for love and break down in tears.

But what had happened last night, really?

"I swear I remember you crying on my shoulder."

Gordon's lips curled dismissively. "You must've had one boring dream."

As if he would ever cry.

Never.

Skyler began to doubt himself. "Was it really just a dream?"

A few minutes later, Skyler had convinced himself it must have been. He looked

up at Gordon. "Uncle, are you in a bad mood today? You look like someone just wiped out your entire stock portfolio."

Or like someone owed him a few million dollars and refused to pay up.

Gordon's response was icy: "Mind your own business."

Skyler was baffled. What on earth had gotten into him? Usually, Gordon was a

little frosty, but today he was practically glacial.

Gordon pulled his phone from his pocket and unlocked it.

Ding.

A WhatsApp message popped up instantly.

It was from Caitlin.

[You free today? Want to grab some diner food with me?]

In a split second, the gloom in Gordon's eyes lifted. He typed back almost

instantly: [Sounds good. Want me to pick you up?]

[Sure, I'll wait for you.]

Gordon was suddenly full of life. He turned to Skyler, grinning. "I've got plans-

gotta run. You can see yourself out."