Chapter 3 - An Unlikely Bond
Within an hour, the somber, strained atmosphere of the garden had vanished entirely.
The magician, previously performing with mechanical disinterest, had been completely revitalized by Sky’s loud gasps and Nova’s breathless laughter. The caterers stopped standing like statues; they began slicing the cosmic cake, heaping generous portions of chocolate fondant and spun sugar onto decorative plates.
"Watch this!" Sky shouted, doing a somewhat clumsy cartwheel across the immaculate grass before tumbling down next to Nova’s wheels. Both girls erupted into giggles.
"Can you pop a wheelie?" Sky asked, pointing at the chair.
Nova looked hesitant. "Juny says I shouldn't unless she's holding the back."
"Show her the trick we practiced on the ramp, Nova," Juny said with an encouraging nod. "You're balanced."
With a determined breath, Nova pushed back sharply on the hand-rims, leaning her weight just enough to raise the front caster wheels off the ground for three triumphant seconds before landing safely.
Sky clapped wildly. "That is so cool! You’re basically driving a spaceship!"
Standing near the perimeter, Grant watched with a swelling throat. Miss Doway stepped up beside him, carrying a discreet black leather folder.
"Sir," she said quietly. "I had security look into the young lady’s name, as standard protocol."
Grant nodded, taking the folder. "And?"
"Her full name is Skylar Evans. Her mother is Elena Evans, a certified nursing assistant at Hawthorne Memorial Hospital—specifically in your pediatric neuro-rehabilitation wing."
Grant paused, glancing from the dossier back to the laughing child on the lawn. "She works in my hospital?"
"Yes, sir. Overtime records show Elena has taken every overnight shift available for the last four months. They live in a rent-controlled apartment on 4th Street. But there is something else." Miss Doway lowered her voice further. "The boy who told Sky about the party boycott? That was Peter Vance. Son of Julian Vance."
Grant’s jaw hardened. Julian Vance was his primary rival on the board of Hawthorne Biotech. For months, Vance had been orchestrating a hostile takeover behind closed doors, trying to force Grant out of the CEO chair before the launch of their breakthrough neural-regeneration treatment—a therapy Grant had poured millions into developing specifically to help children like Nova walk again.
"Peter told Sky that nobody was coming because his father told all the parents at St. Jude’s Academy that Grant Hawthorne was unstable," Miss Doway added grimly. "Julian Vance told them Nova’s condition was a depressing liability and that attending the party would be seen as taking your side in the boardroom."
The cruelty of it knocked the breath from Grant's lungs. Julian Vance hadn't just organized a corporate coup; he had weaponized an eight-year-old child’s birthday party to publicly humiliate and isolate Grant before the upcoming shareholder vote.
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He looked back at Sky, who was now feeding a piece of strawberry cake to Nova while making airplane noises. Julian Vance thought he had isolated the Hawthorne family. Instead, his son’s careless cruelty had sent an angel straight to their gates.
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