Chapter 4 The 15th

Grant

I sank into my desk chair, phone pressed to my ear.

"Send her flowers or whatever. I don't have time to explain anything to Isabella. She knew the engagement wasn't going to work-I wasn't into her, and she wasn't into me." My tone was clipped as I powered on my laptop.

On the other end of the line, Mark's skepticism bled through. "I'm not sure she wasn't into you. She sounded very pissed when I spoke to her. Honestly, I don't want to see her either."

"Then don't." My fingers hovered over the keyboard as I stifled a yawn.

"Have them delivered. We've got bigger problems, Mark. I've got less than three hours to breathe before my father summons me, and guess what? You're coming with me."

Mark groaned. "Great. Another cheerful day. Fine, I'll deal with Isabella's flowers. Oh, and I heard back from the agent-he says the woman we hired is out of her mind. Apparently, she's been handled."

"I doubt it." The words slipped out before I could stop them.

"Huh? Why?"

"Instinct, Mark. People that determined don't just stop like that. You've got to press harder than that." I exhaled sharply, already losing patience. "See you in an hour."

I ended the call and focused on my screen.

Reports flooded my inbox, relentless tasks screaming for attention.

I began jotting ideas and action points onto sticky notes. Within minutes, the desk was a chaotic mess of neon-colored reminders, each demanding a piece of the precious 24 hours I didn't have.

Then the phone rang again.

I picked it up absently-until the caller ID made me sigh.

My chest tightened as I anticipated the frustration about to unfold. I braced myself and answered. "Mother."

Her voice cut through the line, sharp. No hellos, nothing. "It's only right for you to get married as soon as possible, isn't it? Why is this taking so long? You've already defied me by turning Isabella away-as though I haven't made the best decisions for you all your life!"

"Now it's my turn to make the right decision for myself," I said, keeping my tone calm. "Stop bickering, Mom. Aria and I will get married when we're ready.

Just convince Dad to pass the heirship to Hunter and free me-that's what you've always wanted anyway."

"And you think if I could do that, your father would have even considered naming you heir? Stop biting off more than you can chew. Being chosen is already the greatest blessing of your life."

I clenched my jaw. "I have a company-a thriving company worth billions on its own. Stop pretending this is some grand favor you're doing me. Stay on Hunter's neck the way you've been on mine." Without waiting for her reply, I ended the call.

The familiar ache of resentment settled over me, a weight I'd carried for more than 15 years. Controlled, mistrusted, disliked for a crime I didn't commit, kept on my toes for absolutely no reason-it had worn me down to the point where even her words couldn't stir anger anymore.

Just exhaustion.

The door to my office creaked open, and my secretary stepped in cautiously. I nodded at him, signaling him to proceed.

Without a word, he began sorting through the chaos on my desk.

"When's the meeting?" I asked, pulling my focus back to the present.

"1 p.m., sir."

I glanced at my Rolex and shook my head. "I can't make it. I need to be at Pembroke Group."

He nodded, his polite smile barely masking his reservations as he continued tidying up. I caught the unease in his movements.

"What do I need to know?" I asked while shutting down my computer.

"Nothing, sir. Things have just been... hectic lately."

"Hectic?" I picked up my bag, half-listening. "What do you mean?"

He hesitated before replying, his voice carefully measured. "I mean, everyone's on edge. They were really looking forward to this meeting. A lot of rumors have been flying around."

I raised an eyebrow and turned fully toward him, fixing my attention on him. "What rumors?"

Austin's lips quivered as though he was debating whether to speak. "Is this about my personal life?" I asked.

"No, not at all," he said quickly. "It's about... the company. Everyone's on edge, worried we might lose our jobs."

I narrowed my eyes. "Lose your jobs? Why?"

He shifted uncomfortably but pressed on. "People are saying we might end up shutting down because of your father. Everyone knows how much you've been shuffling between here and Pembroke."

"And what do you think?"

He gave a nervous chuckle. "I mean... you can only push yourself so far before it takes a toll. It's hard to see a way out. We don't seem to have much of a chance."

"Have you looked at our performance lately? Do you really think I will abandon something I built from the ground up just to focus on Pembroke? We are not shutting down operations-ever. I'm not merging, and I'm not selling to anyone."

He nodded slowly. "It would help a lot if you stayed for the meeting, sir. Hearing you say that would reassure everyone."

I glanced at my watch and sighed. "Tell every department head the meeting is happening in seven minutes."

Relief washed over his face as he nodded eagerly and hurried out of the office. The door clicked shut behind him.

How could I keep this company afloat when my family seemed hell-bent on sinking it? For years, my father barely reacted to anything.

He let me do my thing and was beginning to see that I could live the way I wanted. Until lately, he'd been directing every part of my life now -demanding I marry, insisting I work full-time at Pembroke Pharmaceuticals, pushing me to take his place.

Expectations after expectations, expectations I had no interest in fulfilling.

But my father wasn't a man I could say no to. And the guilt I carried wouldn't let me burn the bridges.

How could I do that to my father of all people?

Not that the man was innocent himself. But if he knew the truth-

If he knew, he'd cut me off instantly.

****

The air in the room was thick with pleasantries and underlining expectations as always expected at this billionaire gatherings.

"Grant, nice to meet you again," said the elderly man seated next to my father.

Raymond, CEO of TMC Power Distribution, extended a hand, his face stretched into a well-rehearsed smile.

I clasped it firmly. "It's nice to meet you too, Raymond."

My father barely spared me a glance, his focus already drifting elsewhere.

"It's always a pleasure to see you every year, Grant," Raymond continued, turning back to my father as if I was just an accessory to the conversation. "His achievements keep piling up. I hear the chips company is soaring."

The mention of my company-my work-made every comfort in me disappear.

I parted my lips to respond, but my father beat me to it.

"He's quite the talent," he said, the faintest smirk tugging at his mouth. "Proving himself as a Pembroke heir."

"You must be so proud," Raymond responded

"I am," my father answered, "But it's time for him to stop spreading himself so thin. He needs to focus fully on Pembroke. He's not getting any younger, and he has to learn the way of his father if he's going to take over."

Raymond nodded in agreement. "That's important. I hope you're wrapping things up nicely, Grant."

I forced a tight smile, swallowing back the sharp retort poised at the tip of my tongue. "Excuse me," I murmured to my father, leaning in slightly.

His lips pursed, a silent command to stay put.

Anger coiled in my chest.

For a fleeting moment, I envisioned breaking free-walking out, carving a life solely my own. But i know better, So I exhaled slowly, leaned back, and let the rest of the event continue tuning them out like meaningless noise.

Hours later, the gathering finally ended. My father rose, and I followed.

"I'll leave in my own car," I said as he climbed into the waiting sedan, the driver holding the door.

"No," he commanded,"Ride with me."

I hesitated. Then, against my better judgment, I slid in beside him. The car hummed to life.

I pulled out my phone, texting Mark to retrieve my car.

"And when is the wedding?" my father asked.

"Aria and I are not-"

" 15th of next month," he cut in

"What? That's less than 30 days," I countered.

"You like the girl, so marry her. I need you to be married. It's about time."

My teeth clenched. "And that's your decision to make?"

His gaze turned steely, his voice measured but sharp. "I've given you plenty of room to decide, Grant. Because you're not useless like your brother, I've given you options. I let you choose your fiancée against your mother's wishes. I've left you to make the final decisions for your business. I've let you do what you like for almost thirty years."

I let out a humorless breath. "That's what people do, Father. They take charge of their own lives."

"You are not other people," he snapped. "You are a Pembroke."

And so is Hunter! I wanted to spit the words in his face, but it got stuck in my throat.

"I can't-"

"-Watch you drag this out any longer," he cut in coldly. "If you delay this, the rumors about your company will become true-it will sink."

The words weren't a bluff. I saw it in his face, in the calculated stillness of his expression. A warning, a promise. My stomach twisted.

I forced myself to nod. "Let me out here," I said, turning toward the driver.

My father didn't even blink. "Next stop," he corrected smoothly.

I swallowed hard, pressing my back against the seat.

"The 15th," he repeated "I'll have your mother start the arrangements. You, your fiancée and your mother will have your issues settled by then."

And just like that, the decision was made.

My life, once again, was dictated in a single breath.