Chapter 163

Hannah

A few days had passed since the incident at the waterfall, and life was slowly starting to return to some semblance of normalcy. Well, as normal as it could be with Noah insisting that I had to stay by his side at all times.

It was both comforting and suffocating, but I understood his concern. And I would have been lying if I had said that a part of me, no matter how small, was flattered that he cared enough to keep me close to him over the coming days.

Eventually, the sling was removed from Noah’s arm and his shoulder was healed. My scrapes and bruises healed too, although the terror of what had happened still plagued me; I kept waking up at night in a cold sweat, having dreamed about Jake and his men throwing me over the waterfall.

But of course, I didn’t tell Noah that. In fact, I didn’t tell him much of anything. Nor did I tell him about the pregnancy, although I knew I should.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to. It was just that, every time I tried, I just… couldn’t do it. Maybe I was too scared.

As we sat at the breakfast table one morning, the room was silent save for the occasional clinking of cutlery.

I took a sip of my coffee, glancing out the window at the flowers in the garden. Spring was finally here, and I was glad for it—a fresh start, longer days, warm afternoons sitting beneath my favorite tree outside.

But with spring here, that also meant that the end of my eating disorder campaign was getting close. My mind had been stuck on it for days now, thinking of how best to end the campaign with a ‘bang’.

Because three weeks after the campaign ended, our divorce would come. And despite everything, our love had long since died out; I couldn’t stay married to him, even though I saw him as my hero. So I needed to end this campaign on a high note for my own sake.

“Hannah?”

The sound of Noah’s voice pulled me out of my deep thoughts, and I blinked as I turned to him. “Sorry?” I muttered.

He pushed the creamer a little closer to me. “I was asking if you wanted some creamer.”

“Oh… Yes,” I said, shaking my head as I grabbed the little pitcher and poured it into my coffee. “Sorry.”

“You seem to be thinking deeply,” he remarked.

I blinked again, a bit taken aback by his perceptiveness. Just because we had spent the bulk of the past few days together didn’t mean that we talked a lot.

“I… am,” I admitted, shrugging as I sipped my coffee. “I’m thinking about the end of my eating disorder campaign. It’s coming up in a week and a half.”

“That soon?” He averted his gaze so he could butter his toast. “Do you have anything special in mind?”

“Actually, yes. I was thinking of organizing a charity gala. With the facility almost ready to start building, I think it would be nice to raise one last burst of funds before it begins.”

Noah chewed his toast slowly, considering my words. I couldn’t deny the tiny flutter in my chest. “That sounds like a good idea. We’ll present it to the board tomorrow.”

My eyes widened. “The… board?”

He nodded. “I’m going to be by your side for a while, so I might as well help you with the planning,” he said. “The board might have some ideas as well.”

“Oh.” I swallowed hard and set my coffee down, suddenly feeling sheepish beneath the sudden offer. “I’ll put together a presentation, then.”

…

The boardroom was intimidating as always, with its long mahogany table and stern-faced executives seated around it. The large windows offered a view of the mansion grounds, which were currently dotted with groundskeepers and gardeners preparing the gardens for spring and summer.

Clearing my throat nervously, I took my seat beside Noah. His board, consisting of five people—not including us—stared expectantly at me. It was rare for me to attend these meetings; in fact, I wasn’t even sure if I had ever attended one of Noah’s board meetings.

“Luna Hannah has a proposal she would like to present,” Noah announced without preamble, gesturing to me.

All eyes turned to me, and I felt my heart rate spike. But I had prepared for this. I stood, straightening my shoulders and clicking on the first slide of my presentation.

“As you may know,” I began, hanging out pamphlets to everyone at the table, “my eating disorder awareness campaign is coming to a close. To mark this milestone and raise final funds for our new facility, I propose we host a charity gala.”

I clicked through my presentation, showcasing elegant venues and detailing the donation goal for the event.

“My goal would be to raise $50,000 to put toward building the facility,” I said.

Just as I was about to say more, I heard a scoff from across the table. I turned to Leonard, Noah’s chief financial officer, who was leaning forward in his chair.

“Something to say, Leonard?” Noah asked.

“If I may,” Leonard said, to which I nodded. “How exactly do you intend to raise $50,000? That’s quite a steep goal.”

“Well, I was going to suggest we hire the local opera troupe to perform,” I replied coolly. “Their involvement would drum up excitement and attract high-profile donors. We could hold the gala at the opera house.”

Leonard pressed his lips into a thin line, but said nothing. Around the table, I saw a few people taking notes and nodding their heads. Noah, however, remained silent—for now, at least. Although when I looked at him, he looked more thoughtful than anything.

I clicked to the next slide, showing a mock-up of the event layout. “The opera performance will be the centerpiece of the evening,” I continued, “but after the performance, the gala will move to the ballroom in the opera house, where food and drink will be served, and—”

“And what of the costs associated with such an event?” Leonard suddenly interrupted. “Hiring an opera troupe isn’t cheap, you know.”

I froze for a moment, taken aback by Leonard’s demeanor. He had never liked me much, that much I was certain, but to interrupt me twice in the middle of my presentation… Well, it was a bit rude.

Still, I pulled my shoulders back again and answered him easily.

“I understand your concern as CFO, Leonard, But I’ve done a cost analysis, which you’ll find on page five of the handouts. While there are significant upfront costs, our projected return on investment is substantial. Plus, the opera troupe has agreed to perform at a discounted rate due to the charitable nature of the event.”

“And what about security?” Leonard asked, not even checking the pamphlet. “After recent… events, we need to ensure the safety of all attendees, especially you and Alpha Noah.”

When he finished, his gaze was loaded as it rested on me. I felt my face flush slightly at the reminder of what had happened at the waterfall—no doubt he was implying that it was my fault that it had happened at all.

I glanced at Noah, who gave me a small, encouraging nod.

“I’ve also factored in enhanced security measures,” I explained. “The venue has its own security team, which we’ll supplement with our pack guards. I assure you, Leonard, every precaution will be taken to ensure a safe and enjoyable evening for all. Now, may I finish my presentation or will you continue interrupting me?”

There was a smattering of chuckles around the table at my remark. Even Noah, remaining silent, seemed to hide a tiny smirk behind his hand. Leonard’s face reddened, but he nodded, leaning back in my chair.

As I finished my presentation a little while later, I clicked off the PowerPoint and turned back to the table. “We’ll open the room to questions now that the presentation is over,” I said, shooting Leonard a meaningful glance.

The room was silent for a moment, and I felt my confidence waver ever so slightly. I glanced at Noah, hoping for some sign of support, but his expression remained neutral.

Before he could say anything, Leonard, of course, cleared his throat. “Luna Hannah,” he began, tenting his fingers in his lap, “while your presentation was... thorough, I still have some concerns.”

I steeled myself, forcing a polite smile. “Of course, Leonard. What other concerns do you have?”

Leonard paused, almost for dramatic effect. “If I may speak plainly?” he asked.

“Speak as plainly as you wish,” I said, even though I really wanted to throw my presentation clicker in his face.

“To put it bluntly,” he said, “this entire gala is… Well, preposterous.”