?Chapter 1474:

    From childhood, they had been trained to uphold legacies, molded into sessors of power and influence. It was never about choice—it was about duty.

    Their so-called sacrifices were meaningless in Nate’s eyes.

    He had always stood apart, a man cut from colder, sharper stone—soposed he seemed carved by precision. Perfection encased in distance.

    While the others indulged in flirtations and temporary thrills, Nate never wavered.

    Women came and went, but he remained unmoved—untouched, almost invincible. Beauty did not faze him. Seduction never lingered. They had all assumed he would remain solitary, untethered, beyond the reach of love.

    Perhaps that was what made it so jarring when Nate, of all people, fell for Corrine. They were stunned. And yet, deep down, they hoped for him—hoped love would not destroy a man who seemed too perfect to bend.

    “Elva’s intentions are clear to everyone,” Moses said, breaking the brief silence. “You cannot just pretend not to see it and expect everything to blow over.”

    Corrine’s expression tightened.

    She had heard murmurs of the Quinn family’s intentions back on the Independent Continent, but they had sounded like distant thunder—unimportant, not worth her concern. Now, hearing Moses speak with such certainty, that thunder rolled closer.

    His words lodged like a splinter, stubborn and impossible to ignore.

    “I’m not the only man within the Hopkins family,” Nate said coldly. His chiseled features turned to stone, his eyes locking onto Moses with quiet intensity. “If the Quinn family wants an alliance, they are wee to pick from the others.”

    Moses scoffed and waved his cigarette through the air. “You know better than that. Elva is too proud to settle for any of the others. She will not lower herself for someone from the less important factions. And honestly, who else but you could manage a woman like her?”

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    A muscle in Nate’s jaw flexed. His brow creased slightly. “And when did I ever say I intended to manage her?”

    A cool,posed voice rang from the entrance. “Mr. Seymour, you could handle her too,” Corrine said.

    Moses froze, his posture stiffening as he turned to find Corrine standing behind him. Panic surged through him in a sharp wave, and he forced an uneasy smile onto his face. “You are here, Corrine. About what I just said…”

    A fragile hope flickered in him—maybe she had not heard. That hope shattered the moment she spoke. “I heard every word.” His mouth opened, but no sound came. Words abandoned him.

    He stubbed out his cigarette, crushing the ember with too much force, then flicked the butt into the ashtray. A hollow chuckle slipped from his lips. “I was just rambling. Meaningless talk. Do not take it seriously.”

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