The Billionaire's Intern (Maya Thompson) novel Chapter 327

Chapter 152: The Face of a Memory-1

Claim

Charles, sensing the weight of the moment, let out a soft, gentle chuckle, his eyes crinkling with

warmth. “Darling, don’t keep her all to yourself,” he said, his tone measured but affectionate. “Allow

me the honor of welcoming our future granddaughter-in-law.”

Eleanor gently let go of Maya, and Charles stepped forward, a warm, playful smile tugging at his

lips. He gave her a gentle, reassuring hug. “Ah… finally! The face behind the name. Welcome to the family, dear,” he said, his voice full of cheerful warmth.

Maya’s voice was shy but steady. “Hello, Mr. Blackwood… it’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

Charles waved his hand dismissively, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Oh, no-I retired a long time ago, dear, so you can reserve ‘Mr. Blackwood’ for my son Dominic-or for Damien. That sounds far

too formal.” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice with a wink. “I’m just Grandpa now. Call me Gra

ndpa.”

He gently took Maya’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “When I heard he’d taken some time off, I thought the world might end. That boy has never taken a day off, even when he was sick. The company has always been his life. I’m glad someone finally capable has come along to soften this

brat.”

For a moment, the air was light and warm, filled with laughter, introductions, and the gentle hum of

familial connection.

They all settled into the living room, the soft clinking of porcelain cups resuming as tea was

poured and gentle conversation flowed. The warm, fragrant steam of jasmine filled the air,

mingling with the subtle crackle of the fireplace. Laughter bubbled now and then, punctuated by

quiet observations, as if the Blackwood home itself were embracing the newcomers with its

timeless grace.

Dahlia, mid-sip, suddenly straightened, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. “By the way, Maya,” she said, her voice curious and slightly eager, “have you heard from Jaime? Are they on their way here?”

Damien glanced at his mother with a small smile. “Monroe sent me a message over half an hour ago,” he said, voice calm but carrying a spark of excitement. “They’re on their way. Should be here

any minute now.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the faint roar of a vehicle reached the driveway, tires crunching against the gravel in a familiar rhythm.

Dahlia’s hands tightened slightly around her teacup, her eyes shining with anticipation. “Finally,” she

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