The Divorced Heiress Is Entering a New Marriage

We entered the elevator in the parking garage and rode it all the way to the top. A hotel associate stood behind a podium just outside the elevator as we walked out. He seemed surprised as he looked at Logan and me.

“May I see your invitation, Mr. Hatfield? Ms. Whitaker?” he asked.

Logan showed him the invitation on his phone. “Mr. and Mrs. Ha

1. ow. Thank you.

“Of course.” The associate scanned the invitation, then waved us through.

“Invitation, Ms. Fritz?” the associate asked. Impressive. Did he know everyone in high society, or only those that were relevant in the news right now?

Knowing it didn’t really matter either way, Logan and I continued forward toward the doors of the ballroom. The room was exceedingly large, filling the entire floor of the hotel, with only a few rooms carved out – a bathroom, a kitchen, and presumably a breakroom for the staff to rest a moment.

Every other area was open.

As the ballroom was on the highest floor of the building, most of the walls were open with floor to ceiling windows, showing a near 360 degree view of the city below. One of the window walls had a pair of doors Inlaid, which seemed to lead out to a balcony. A DJ was out there, and a different bar.

The music in here was more classical, with a full string orchestra and piano accompaniment. Some people crowded around a buffet that seemed to include a wide selection of cheeses and fruits.

The centerpiece of the party was a massive fountain made up entirely of wine glasses. Wine cascaded down from the top, filling each glass until it overflowed into the glass beneath it.

Right now, with the way my nerves were, I kind of wanted to shove my face under that cascading wine and take my fill. Being drunk, though temporarily enjoyable perhaps, would not solve anything in the long

run.

In the past, I had used alcohol to escape my problems and it only seemed to drag me further into them in the end. I only drank in moderation now, always careful not to let myself get too carried away.

We’re stopped just inside the front door by a greeter a man whose job it is to announce every invitee. When he sees Logan and me, he does a double take..

“Mr. Hatfield. Ms. Whitaker.“.

“It’s Mr. and Mrs. Logan Hatfield, now,” Logan said. “If you would please announce us as such,”

The greeter seemed nervous, paling slightly, but nodded. “Of course, sir.” Clearing his throat, he turns to the room.

Most people were scattered about, lightly talking, not really paying any attention.

“Presenting the greeter said. “Mr. and Mrs. Logan Hatfield!”

At once, every eye in the room fell onto us.

Immediately, I wanted to coil into myself and hide away. The spotlight was not the place where I usually

preferred to shine. I liked being in a more supportive role, helping Logan achieve his dreams.

But with the way things had gone, I couldn’t relegate myself to the shadows anymore. I had to lift my head high and act like I wanted to be here.

Fake it unt

you make it, they said.

That was just what I did. Smiling, I started to wave.

Eventually, the initial novelty of our arrival passed and people

ed to their conversations, though not

without occasionally glancing at us again, now and then.

“Where would you like to start?” Logan asked, whispering hotly in my ear.

“The cheese table,” I said at once.

Logan, laughing lightly, started to lead me in that direction.

Behind us, Mabel was introduced. “Presenting! Mrs. Mabel Fritz!”

No one even glanced at her.

I would have waited for her to join us, but we’d already agreed we would split up and try to cover more ground. Mabel had her own contacts and influences. She’d do better on her own without us weighing her down. We had a signal though, if either of us were to need the other.

At the cheese table, we stepped beside a group of three middle–aged women who seemed to be in deep conversation about what was better, summering up north at the lakeside, or summering overseas.

One of the women, catching sight of me, pulled me into the conversation. “What do you think, Mrs.

Hatfield?”

With her sharp smirk, she was likely including me to be mean. It was common knowledge by now that I didn’t grow up with money, and Logan and I hadn’t really been married long enough, at least not openly, to start traveling. Especially not for entire summers at a time.

Logan began to turn, likely wanting to rescue me. I put my hand on his arm, indicating that I didn’t need a rescue right at this particular moment.

“Either is fine,” I said. “What truly matters is spending time with the people you care about, whether it be your partner…” I smiled at Logan. “Or your children, or other family. The people are what bring warmth to a home, not where it’s location.”

The woman who had wanted to twist me up, seemed surprised. The other two women smiled and agreed.

“What a wonderful worldview,” one of them said. “People are precious. We so often forget that, when we are surrounded by such beautiful things.”

“You never know what you have until it’s gone,” the third woman said. She gave me a sad look. “My busband died last spring. I miss him every single day, and wish I would have spent more time with him.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said and spread my arms out to hug her

She blinked, startled a moment, but then consented, folding herself into the hug. She even held me back..

This is nice…” she whispered. “My own children haven hugged me in years.

Chapter 03-41

“Well, I love hugs,” I told her. You let me know, I’ll always have one ready.”

By the time, we moved on from the cheese table, not only were the three ladies impressed, but so were all who had witnessed the exchange. Content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

At another group, Logan laughed off an insult to him, saying, “Have you ever been in love? Hazel is easily the best thing that ever happened to me.”

The man he was talking to seemed absolutely flabbergasted. “Better than that turnover a few years back that garnered you all that extra income?”

“Better than money, period,” Logan said.

The man still seemed confused, though impressed. His wife was entirely smitten however, and pulled me aside to whisper, “You’ve got a good man there. Hold onto him.”

“I intend to,” I assured her. “He is the love of my life.”

By the time, we’d made our way through just over half the room, we’d rallied quite a few supporters, ! would say. Some people still hated us, that was clear from their glares and the way they avoided us, but many were now cordial. Several, I would wager, even kind of liked us.

To me, this entire event already seemed like a success. I was riding on air, exciting to keep meeting people and making potential friends and allies.

Then…

“Presenting!” the greeter shouted. “Mr. Hatfield, Senior

All the air seemed to suck straight out of the room.

Eyes were back on us.

This time, that included those belonging to Mr. Hatfield Senior.