"What should I reflect on? I built everything for you. Rockefeller Group, and a traditional, obedient wife!"
When Grandfather deployed that line with such practiced ease, I knew. Here we go again. He always did this—turned what he thought were gifts into shackles around my neck. This pathological need for control was endless kidnapping.
Two months of negotiations had already exhausted me. Coming home, I'd wanted a little family warmth. That's why I came to see Grandfather. But his mind was always on work, treating me like a puppet for his commands.
I wanted to resist him, even if it meant mutual destruction.
"Wife?" I made my tone deliberately caustic. "You mean the care aide?"
I watched Grandfather's face flush instantly. No satisfaction, just numb self-destruction.
"Regardless, Lucas—Ella loves you very much."
Grandfather retreated. Good. I relaxed. To keep him from second-guessing my work, I had to redirect the conversation to Ella.
"I don't deny that." I saw the light in Grandfather's eyes, pressed harder: "But I think Ella loves my money more. Doesn't she?"
Even I felt that was too far. I added quickly: "Because my money can save her sister."
Truth was, I knew Ella wasn't like that. She'd never asked me for a dime. Her personality was so gentle it had no edges, always gazing at me with those beautiful, adoring eyes. I resented most of Grandfather's arrangements, but Ella was the exception. She was the traditional, tender wife—like a vast, mysterious ocean. Whatever I said, whatever I did, she never got angry.
"That's Ella's sister—your sister too!" Grandfather grabbed his water glass and hurled it at me. "You're a married man! Spend your time and energy on family, not tangled up with some random woman!"
I dodged just in time. The cup missed.
Random woman? Who was Grandfather talking about? Before marriage, sure, I'd had female companions. But after marriage, I'd followed the rules. Stayed faithful.
"You mean Vivian?" She was one of the few women around me. "If that's who you mean, I'm not letting her go."
After all, training a new chief assistant would devastate work efficiency.
"Vivian—your college girlfriend?" Grandfather frowned.
That was ten years ago. If Grandfather hadn't mentioned it, I wouldn't have remembered that brief fling with Vivian. But now that Grandfather brought up my relationship with Vivian, rage surged from deep inside: Grandfather had been investigating my privacy!
"I've known Vivian a long time," I said. Normally, my impression of Vivian was purely professional, but now she became a convenient weapon against Grandfather. "Compared to Ella, she'd actually make a better wife. Wouldn't she?"
"That's what you think!" Grandfather finally surrendered. He closed his eyes, like a general who'd lost his final battle. "Remember this: Ella is your wife. Don't forget your wedding vows."
Of course I wouldn't forget.
Ella was my wife. She'd be my only wife.
She always had that sweet mint scent. Two years ago, in that kidnapping case that shocked New York, I fell for her at first sight. I couldn't imagine how a woman fragile as a lily in the wind could stand before Grandfather's wheelchair, staring down a gunman's barrel.
If angels existed, she had to be one.
She was stunning. When I grabbed her thin shoulders, even through rough fabric, my fingertips felt the delicate skin beneath. My forearm alone could circle her entire waist. When my thumb brushed the softness there, I had the perverse urge to let my hand wander deeper.
In the middle of armed combat, bullets flying, a sexual thought invaded my mind—I wanted her.
After the kidnapping ended, before I could ask Ella on a date, Grandfather beat me to it: did I want to marry Ella? My instinct was yes, but anger followed immediately: Grandfather had seen right through me! He knew what type I liked! Not just work—now my marriage too! My wife became a chess piece Grandfather planted to monitor me. That realization was cold water dousing the heat in my veins.
"Since I was a child, you've arranged everything for me." I took a deep breath. My briefcase phone rang, breaking the quarrel's momentum.
I accelerated: "But I'm telling you now, I don't like anything in this manor!"
I stopped.
