Chapter 580
Gwyneth’s cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of red.
She kept her head down, quietly focused on her meal.
Hawthorne, too, ate in small, measured bites. The two of them were so strikingly attractive that even the simple act of eating seemed like something out of a
painting.
During dinner, apart from the brief conversation about the ring, they barely spoke at all.
Sitting across from Hawthorne, Gwyneth had no idea what to say.
Still, Hawthorne would occasionally break the silence with some light, inconsequential remark-just enough to keep things from getting awkward.
To Violet, the whole meal felt almost dreamily romantic. Gwyneth, on the other hand, was dying of embarrassment, while Hawthorne remained calm and composed from start to finish.
When they returned to the old manor, Gwyneth was startled to find the foyer overflowing with elegantly packaged gift boxes. She thought back-neither her great-grandfather nor her mother were ever the shopping-obsessed type. So where had all these come from?
Victoria and Thorpe, however, were beaming with delight. Out in the courtyard, two neat rows of bodyguards stood at attention. Dozens of luxury cars lined the drive, and overhead, three helicopters were slowly descending onto the grounds. More boxes kept arriving. Hawthorne took Gwyneth’s hand and led her inside, moving at an unhurried pace.
“Grandfather, Mrs. Fairchild,” he announced, “Gwyn and I have already registered our marriage. Originally, I planned to bring the engagement gifts on Thanksgiving, but I thought-why wait? So I had my assistant send everything ahead.”
“For the Thanksgiving engagement party, you two can look over the guest list and decide who you’d like to invite. I’ll take care of the venue, the menu, the drinks- everything. All you need to do is give your approval.”
Gwyneth was dumbfounded. These were the engagement gifts?
Already?
He must have mobilized a team to fly and drive these here from Greenvale, day and night.
There was so much, the old manor’s grand foyer could barely contain it all.
Chris and Celia exchanged looks, both unimpressed. Chris, in particular, glared at Hawthorne with open disdain-clearly resenting that his precious sister had been “stolen” away so easily.
“What’s a nouveau riche even going to give us, anyway?” he muttered.
Celia pouted as well. Victoria could only sigh and try to soothe the two siblings.
“Your brother-in-law’s agreed to stay with your sister in Starfall City,” she coaxed. “See? She’s not leaving us behind.”
But Chris and Celia weren’t buying it. Up until now, Gwyneth had always been their big sister-the one whose attention never wavered from them. Now, Hawthorne had her completely under his spell. The two of them were even holding hands, and the way Hawthorne looked at Gwyneth made it painfully clear where her loyalties now lay.
Of course, they thought, an older guy always gets the advantage. And Gwyneth- well, she hadn’t looked at them twice since he’d arrived. She used to have eyes only for her brother and sister, but now, her whole world seemed to revolve around this man.
“One day, when you fall for someone, you’ll understand,” Victoria said gently to Celia, trying to comfort her.
But Celia bristled, stamping her foot. “I’d never let some guy turn me into a lovesick fool like that.”
She just couldn’t stand it. In her memory, her big sister always seemed a bit stern, but she was gentle and protective-at least with the two of them. Celia had never seen Gwyneth smile at anyone else. So why did this stranger, this Hawthorne, get to have her smiles so easily?
And honestly, it was just ridiculous-was this still the same big sister she’d always known?
Meanwhile, Hawthorne instructed the staff to open the gift boxes. Gwyneth, curious, peeked inside-half-expecting to see stacks of cash, which would have been a little much, even for him.
But when the boxes were opened, they revealed priceless antique paintings. In some of the other boxes, there weren’t wads of money, either-just more treasures. She remembered how the Langford family’s fortune had grown even more staggering over the past decade.
Ordinary gifts would never impress the Langfords, but these were different. The old man’s eyes lit up with genuine delight.
Hawthorne had chosen perfectly.
The other boxes contained gold and silver jewelry, and exquisite southern silk dresses, each one
hand-embroidered by master artisans-the kind of craftsmanship money simply couldn’t buy. These weren’t just gifts; they were living
pieces of heritage.