Last night was supposed to be my reset. A moment to crawl out of the stress spiral the merger’s become. But the truth is, it’s not the merger itself. It’s my own damn family. Their constant questions. Constant comments. Constant interference. And we can’t forget fuckingemergency family meetings.
They’ve been relentless.
Then there’s their sudden enthusiasm for Miller-Moore’s involvement.
The persistent, strange fluctuation in their attitudes is not going unnoticed. Especially after Cece’s initial analysis into our Capital Funds vertical.
When the Wentworths first approached us about it a year ago, my parents were apprehensive. But then they became convinced that it was a brilliant plan since I can fulfill the clause at the same time by marrying Cece.
In the last eight months, the merger went from an idea to a reality—concrete plans were built. All while my relationship with Cece became stronger. During that time, they started quietly undermining this merger from the inside.
And now they’re eager for the consulting firm overseeing it? Potentially expediting it? It doesn’t add up. Nothing about them ever does. This back and forth is exhausting and I can feel they’re up to something. But that’s not what’s got my heart racing right now.
What’s got me spiraling is the fact that Iris is in that room. And Cece hasno ideawhat she’s walking into.
Fuck.
She’s a few steps ahead of me, walking with that effortless composure she always carries.
I want to intercept her. Tell her.Warnher.
But I don’t. Nothing good will come out of it. We can all be professionals today and I’ll tell her later. Explain properly.
But something random flashes through my head. Iris said something that’s been stuck in my head ever since that dinner three nights ago.
“The clause is honestly diabolical. But kind of makes sense, you know? Your parents were always weirdly involved in your personal life.”
It wasn’t even a planned dinner. She’d stopped by my office to drop off Miller-Moore’s final pitch. I wasalready in meetings with mine and Wentworth’s VPs of Operations, aligning plans for the Coquitlam Complex debacle—the single largest logistical nightmare blocking this merger.
Gareth wanted it under Astor Holdings after the merger. Never mind that the Wentworth’s had a long standing relationship with the owner, Victor Beadle.
But that night, when everything was practically untangling, all four of us, and Taewon, ended up at dinner, somehow.
It was a passing comment later that night. Probably nothing more than her potentially connecting the old rusted dots. But it hit me hard. Because she was right.
They were always subtly there—vetting my friends, inserting themselves into every inch of my life. But I always thought it stopped at early adulthood. Now I’m not so sure.
I’m wondering if even this presidency—this title I’ve broken myself to earn for the past decade—is a controlled, conditional farce. And I wonder…
Did they interfere with me and Iris, too?
I never even told them about her—I was waiting until I thought she was someone I could build a future with. Until I figured out how to integrate her into the Astor world without a blowback.
Maybe they already knew. Maybe they acted long before I could. My gut tells me I’ve missed something, something big. And it probably ties into my presidency.
“A-i-ssi,Levi,” I hear Taewon again, closer this time. “Control your breathing.”
I exhale heavily and look over at him, deadpan. “Apologies, Mr. Choi, if my breathing bothers you.”
He gives me an amused look. “You sounded likeyou were hyperventilating,Mr. Astor.”
I roll my eyes and keep walking. Taewon’s passive aggressive concern doesn’t bother me. It’s twelve years too late for him to be abandoning this Astor ship we’ve both been sailing on.
Cece is farther ahead now, about to enter that damn conference room. I swallow hard and quickly catch up to everyone.
They’re all here. Grace Miller. Iris Desmond. Somehow—even Ryan Moore, of Miller-Moore, has joined us in the flesh. Cece, Taewon, and I make our introductions with the usual, practiced polish. I keep a cautious eye on her as she approaches Iris for a handshake.
“Nice to finally put a face to those emails, Ms. Desmond,” she says with that calm, warm smile of hers.
