Page 68 of His Secret Merger

The lights shifted, and the auctioneer’s voice floated out over the room, smooth and practiced. “We are now opening silent bidding forPortrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer Ibest known asThe Woman in Gold.Please see the attendants circulating with tablets to place your silent bids.”

The media moved like sharks, cameras flashing, reporters murmuring into their phones, pens scratching across notepads. I watched it all from my quiet spot near the back, feeling the strange weight of the moment settle into my chest.

Look how far we’ve come.

Vérité had started as a shot in the dark and soon became a chance for Juliette to prove herself, as well as a way for me to tether myself to something that mattered. Now it was more than a foundation. It was a legacy. And as much as I hated to admit it, I never would have had the guts to make it happen without her. Tonight, if Anthony was right, Juliette was about to prove once again that she was braver than I’d ever been.

The soft buzz of conversation built back up as the bidding opened, but my attention had narrowed to one point in the room—the small figure moving gracefully toward the stage.

Juliette.

For a second, all the air seemed to thin out of the ballroom. The music, the murmurs, the cameras, the polished laughter faded to a faint echo as she stepped into the spotlight.

She wore a deep emerald gown that caught the light like water, her hair swept up, and a small smile bloomed on her lips as she crossed the stage. My fingers tightened around the ring box in my pocket, and my pulse thrummed in my ears.

She reached the microphone and waited as the crowd quieted, her gaze sweeping over the room, meeting familiar faces, steady and calm in a way that made my chest ache with something fierce and raw.

“Thank you all for being here tonight,” she began, her voice clear, smooth, carrying easily across the ballroom. “Your support means the world—not just to the Vérité Foundation, but to the countless families and communities who are still searching for what was taken from them. You are helping us bring those pieces home.”

Applause rippled through the room. She waited, graceful, poised—the consummate professional.

But then… she shifted slightly, a spark lighting in her eyes, the kind that only a handful of us knew.

“And there’s one more announcement I’d like to make tonight,” she said, her voice softening just slightly, just enough to make the room lean in. My breath hitched in my throat.

Her eyes flicked across the crowd and landed on me.

“Damian Sinclair…” she said, a small, almost mischievous smile breaking free, “I accept your marriage proposal.”

For a beat, the room froze.

Then all at once, the sound rushed back—laughter, cheers, applause, the sharp burst of camera flashes, a champagne glass shattering somewhere near the back.

I didn’t think. I just moved.

My shoes sounded against the floor as I crossed the room in long, sure strides, every nerve buzzing. I barely registered Gabrielle and Anthony beaming from backstage, or Ella’s delighted laugh as she stepped aside. All I saw was Juliette, glowing under the lights, eyes wide and shining as I reached her.

I pulled the ring box from my pocket, flipping it open with a flick of my thumb. Her breath caught, and I smiled.

“How did you know—?” she started, a laugh breaking her shock.

“Let’s just say,” I murmured as I took her hand, “It’s serendipity.”

The ring slid onto her finger, and for a moment the world tilted—cheers rising around us, cameras flashing, but all I could focus on was the feel of her hand in mine, the soft, disbelieving laugh that slipped from her lips as she shook her head.

“You’re impossible,” she whispered.

“You should be used to it by now, Jules,” I murmured, pressing a brief, fierce kiss to her temple.

As the crowd roared, I caught a glimpse of Judge Valencia moving toward the stage, his wife at his side, both of them smiling wide enough to split the room.

And just like that,I thought as I curled my arm around Juliette’s waist,everything I never thought I deserved was standing right here, holding my hand.

The applause was still rippling through the ballroom, and Juliette’s fingers were tight around mine, her cheeks flushed, when Judge Valencia took the stage.

He tapped the microphone lightly, the room quieting with a soft ripple of laughter. His wife, elegant in deep sapphire, stood just behind him, her eyes shining as she watched the crowd—or maybe just the two of us, standing center stage like the world had tilted in our favor.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the judge began, his voice warm, a touch of mischief slipping into his smile, “I was asked to keep this brief, which, as my wife will tell you, is not one of my particular talents.”

---