Chapter 72: Elias Mercer's Lips Curved Slightly

Elias Mercer's lips curved slightly.

* * *

Mason Reed squinted through his cigarette smoke at Connor Hayes. "Connor, your birthday's next month, right? How do you wanna celebrate this year? Wanna organize a racing event? Or charter a yacht?"

Julian Cross perked up immediately. "How about hiring some models for entertainment?"

Both men turned expectantly toward Connor.

When it came to extravagant parties, he always had the most creative ideas.

Who would've guessed this suited-up finance mogul partied harder than anyone behind closed doors?

"This year... just a small family gathering."

Mason's eyes widened. "What?"

Julian nearly choked on his drink. "You're serious?"

Connor arched an eyebrow. "Problem?"

"Connor, did someone put a curse on you?" Mason reached dramatically for his forehead.

Julian looked utterly baffled. "Since when did you become so... domesticated?"

"Don't overthink it." Connor scoffed. "The estate on Beacon Avenue. Invitations coming your way."

With that, he stood and left.

Mason and Julian exchanged bewildered glances before simultaneously looking out the window—

Had the sun risen from the west today?

* * *

Clara Whitmore was in a meeting when Connor's call came.

Her fingers stilled at the birthday invitation.

"Me?"

"Mhm."

She pressed her lips together.

Grant Holloway would undoubtedly attend Connor's party. She wanted no further entanglement.

"Just some old friends gathering. Mason's coming. Don't you want to see him?" Connor's voice turned teasing at her hesitation. "Or... are you avoiding someone?"

Her grip tightened on the phone.

"Grant and I are over."

"All the more reason to come." Connor chuckled. "Address sent. Don't be late."

The call ended abruptly.

* * *

On the birthday evening, the estate glittered with decorations.

Grant arrived last with Paige Lawson on his arm.

She helped remove his overcoat for the attendant before linking arms with him intimately.

Beacon Avenue estates were priceless—Connor's property alone had cost eight figures to renovate.

Passing through meticulously landscaped gardens, they reached the illuminated main hall.

"Happy birthday."

Grant tossed over a set of keys—the limited edition sports car Connor had coveted for months.

Connor raised an eyebrow. "Thanks."

During the exchange, Grant's peripheral vision caught a familiar silhouette.