Chapter 40: Personal Charm

Mabel had invited Alistair today not only to spend more time with him but—clearly—for Caroline's sake.

Before delving into that, however, she gave him a brief, sharp summary of what had transpired with Agnes. When Alban brought Agnes back, she assumed Mabel wanted to rehire her, perhaps thinking Mabel hadn't taken to the new staff. She even hinted at a raise, bold as brass. Then she saw Mabel standing there—alive, well, and clearly unconvinced—and the whole truth came crashing down. Agnes realized Preston's plan had failed.

Mabel had spent years cultivating a warm, kind image. But the steel underneath had never dulled. Under that calm pressure, Agnes cracked. She confessed everything—her collusion with Preston, every underhanded move, every lie. Then, unbelievably, she tried to blame it all on Caroline. She claimed she'd always been loyal to the Ashbourne family, that Caroline's cold-hearted decision to fire her sister had pushed her into Preston's arms, and that none of it would have happened otherwise. Mabel simply produced proof showing Agnes had already begun working with Preston before her sister was dismissed. That silenced her quickly.

Mabel wasn't one to let someone off lightly, especially someone who'd poisoned Eloise's ear. But Mabel wasn't a tyrant; she didn't abuse her power. Instead, she found proof that Agnes had been embezzling for years—misusing her position to take "small advantages" which, cumulatively, amounted to a prosecutable offense. It was more than petty theft and enough to send her to jail.

As for Preston? Mabel didn't care that he came from money. His actions were dangerously close to attempted murder. She compiled all the evidence and had it sent directly to the Vaughn family, along with a message—if they didn't handle it themselves, she would. The Ashbourne name carried considerable weight—not just in New York, but across the country. They could take down the Vaughns without lifting a finger. No one in their right mind would willingly confront the Ashbournes, especially when clearly in the wrong.

Hence, their patriarch arrived in person, pale and trembling, dragging Preston along like a sacrificial lamb. By that night, Preston had been put on a plane and sent out of the country. His return—if any—was entirely up to the Ashbournes. And that, as Mabel said, was the end of that.

Alistair had always known the Ashbournes were powerful, but today he realized just how far their influence extended. Did he accidentally attach himself to a juggernaut?

Then Mabel turned serious. "Alistair, has Caroline ever told you about her family—besides me?"

He shook his head. Come to think of it, Eloise hadn't said much either.

Mabel fell silent for a moment. "Her mother has been living overseas for years. She rarely comes back."

Alistair frowned slightly. Doesn't that mean her parents live apart? So they were probably separated, maybe even divorced.

"Her father is always working. He and Caroline barely see each other. I was the one who raised her, really. She once told me she'd never marry. Said she'd rather be alone."

Alistair didn't think it was solely due to her parents' example. No—Caroline had her own reasons. But then… who is Eloise's father? No one had ever told him. Maybe that wasn't an accident. Maybe it was better if that name remained buried. And frankly, it wasn't his place to ask.

Mabel sighed heavily, falling back into old worries. "God, I used to lie awake at night thinking about her future. I know it sounds old-fashioned, but no amount of money or success can compare to a happy home."

Alistair thought of his own life—how he'd once planned to live alone forever. It wasn't a bad life. Peaceful. Uncomplicated. But now, suddenly, the thought of eating alone, coming home to silence, sleeping in an empty bed… felt cold.

Mabel patted his hand warmly. "Thank God for you, Alistair. You've given me hope again. Caroline won't be alone anymore." She gave his hand another squeeze, her eyes soft with affection. Mabel now truly saw him as part of the family.

It was the kind of belief that silenced every doubt, every fear.

"You're a good man," Mabel said with conviction. "With you, I know Caroline is in safe hands."

Alistair met her gaze, trying not to feel guilty. He kept his voice steady. "I won't let you down." At least, not for as long as their marriage lasted. While it existed, he'd give her and Eloise everything he had.

He remembered Agnes' words again—something about Caroline's father being strict.

"I haven't met her parents yet," he said. "Do you think they'll… approve of me?"

Mabel waved the thought away. "Don't worry about them. They don't even show up for Caroline. Who are they to judge her husband? With me around, no one's going to give you trouble."

They were so engrossed in conversation that they didn't notice Caroline walk in. She cleared her throat. "Grandma, you didn't spend the whole time talking trash about me behind my back, did you?"

Alistair turned. She was fresh from the office, dressed in a pale tailored suit, jacket slung over one arm. The weather had warmed up. Underneath, she wore a crisp white blouse that framed her clean, graceful lines.

He could picture her in a boardroom, taking control, sharp as a blade. Their eyes met, and Caroline smiled. She was clearly pleased to see how easily Alistair had connected with Mabel.

Mabel clicked her tongue. "As if I'd dare say anything bad about you in front of your husband. He'd probably take your side and throw me out the window."

Lunch was plentiful, and Caroline naturally took the seat beside Alistair. Mabel, beaming, kept piling food onto Alistair's plate. Before long, it was overflowing. Caroline put down her fork and rested her chin in her hand, watching them in silence. Then her gaze locked on Alistair. He blinked. "What?"

She studied him, head to toe. "Be honest."

He looked completely lost. "Be honest and...?"

"Are you secretly casting some kind of charm spell?"

Alistair blinked, unsure how to respond. He'd heard that question before—Julian had asked him the exact same thing. Even when Mabel pulled him aside earlier, she hadn't said it outright, but there'd been a similar undertone. And now Caroline? Is this really all me? Or has the system been secretly boosting my stats?

Mabel playfully scolded, "You little brat. If I'd ignored Alistair, you'd have cried about it. But now that I adore him, you're sulking?"

Caroline smiled, her eyes softening in a rare, girlish way. "I'm happy. If anyone dares touch my husband in the future, I won't have to lift a finger. Grandma will take care of it."

Mabel scoffed, "You're just jealous I like him more than you."

Alistair listened to them bicker, lips tugging into a smile. He couldn't help but silently ask the system: Is Mabel's approval something you engineered?

"This system can only help the host make life choices and reward outcomes accordingly. Personal charm is all yours."

He exhaled, almost laughing. So it really is me.

It was just him—whatever it was in him that Eloise had warmed to, that had made Caroline choose him, that had earned Mabel's approval. That part had always been there. Maybe he wasn't as humble as he used to think. Maybe he'd always had this light in him—it had just taken the right people to see it.

After lunch, Caroline got up to return to work. Mabel tried to keep Alistair a little longer, wanting more time with him, but Caroline was already calling out, "Let's go."

Mabel gave up with a smile. They're newlyweds. Of course she wants him all to herself.

Just as Alistair was about to get into the car, Mabel pulled Caroline aside. "When are you two planning the wedding?"

Traditional as ever, Mabel had always believed that a marriage without a proper ceremony felt incomplete.

Caroline paused. "Too much of a hassle."

Mabel sighed, "Poor Alistair."

"I'm not bothered," Alistair said quickly. "Really." The simpler, the better. After all, their marriage wasn't even real.

On the ride back, Alistair asked casually, "Do you usually have lunch with your grandma?"

Caroline shook her head. "Not really." Ashbourne Manor was a bit far from her office. The round trip took over an hour—longer in traffic. Alistair wanted to ask why today, but he didn't. He didn't know it was because of him.

As usual, she dropped him off at home. Had it been up to her, she would have driven him right to the elevator doors. Two blocks away would have sufficed, but she refused to stop until she pulled up directly in front of his building.