Chapter 89: The Grand Matriarch’s Game
“Cora’s pregnant,” Julian said evenly. “It wouldn’t be right to burden her. But if Mr. Mayer doesn’t mind, she and I can take it on together.”
Liam smiled. “Then it’s settled.”
The meeting ended on that polite, brittle note.
Julian drove straight back to the Watson estate and headed for the old matriarch’s study.
“Master Julian, you can’t go in—Madam is still busy.”
Her assistant tried to stop him. Julian ignored her and pushed through.
“Let him in,” came the firm voice from inside.
Julian entered, dropped into a chair opposite his grandmother, and got straight to it.
“Grandmother, why are you so insistent about this partnership with the Mayers? Watson Group doesn’t need them. We have every other option—half the country would kill for our cooperation.”
The old lady set down her pen, took off her glasses, and studied him calmly.
“None of those other suitors have political weight. If I hadn’t called you this morning, you’d have turned Mayer down, wouldn’t you?”
Julian said nothing.
“Then tell me,” she continued, “is your resistance about business—or about Mr. Mayer himself?”
That shut him up.
Her gaze sharpened. “Or is it because of Cora? You hated that marriage when it was arranged. You didn’t even want to see the girl, if I recall.”
The fire in his eyes dimmed instantly.
She knew everything—as always. The woman hadn’t chaired the board for forty years without seeing through men like glass.
“Liam’s fiancée—Qara Davis. She looked exactly like your wife, didn’t she?”
Julian’s head snapped up. “You know about that?”
“I know more than you do,” she said with a faint smile. “Qara was an extraordinary girl. Rarely in public, but even those few glimpses were unforgettable.”
Julian stayed silent. He hadn’t come to argue; he’d come for clarity.
“Do you remember,” she said quietly, “why I insisted you marry Cora in the first place?”
He frowned.
“When I first saw her at the hospital, I was shocked. For a moment, I thought I was seeing Qara herself. And when I learned her name—Cora—I guessed immediately what it might mean.”
“Grandmother, that’s absurd,” Julian said tightly. “The Davis family only had one daughter. There’s no second.”
“Yes, yes, only one. But the resemblance is uncanny. Whether she’s related or not, she had to be brought in. If she is connected to the Davises, then the marriage ties us to an old and respected line—a family with a queen consort in its history. Hardly a loss for us. And if she isn’t, well… once the child is born, you can arrange her life however you wish.”
Her words were stripped of sentiment, all calculation and logic.
Julian couldn’t argue; she’d already drawn every conclusion.
“She was a woman you never cared about,” the old lady said softly. “So why the sudden urgency? Why march in here demanding explanations?”
He looked down. “How do we even prove a link to the Davises?”
“Simple. Let Liam Mayer investigate. No one will dig deeper—or faster—than a man chasing his ghost.” Her eyes glimmered with cunning. “You’ve never been impulsive, Jule. What’s gotten into you?”
He swallowed. How could he explain that it wasn’t strategy—that he simply didn’t want Cora anywhere near Liam?
She let the silence hang before changing tack. “The Watson family’s rule about staying out of domestic politics was written in a different era. Times have changed. The country is stable now. Standing apart only hinders our reach. The Mayers are offering us a bridge; refusing would make us look arrogant—and dangerous. Those in power prefer their empires contained.”
Her tone hardened. “The Watsons’ expansion is already under scrutiny. Headquarters may be in Lindon, but our influence is abroad. Keep that balance, Jule. The Mayers can be a stepping stone—or a leash. Which it becomes depends on you.”
“I understand,” he said quietly.
He did understand. Accepting was another matter.
“By the way,” she said casually, “I heard you ran into Dina again?”
His brow furrowed.
“I’m not interfering,” she said mildly. “Just remember—her heart’s never been clean. Don’t let her make trouble.”
“I know,” he replied. “She won’t.”
“Good.” The old woman nodded. “Stay for lunch.”
When he left, her assistant whispered, “Madam, why tell him all that?”
The matriarch sighed, rubbing her temples. “That boy’s been headstrong since birth. If you push him, he’ll dig in. You have to turn the reins backward—make him believe it’s his own idea. He’ll fall neatly into place.”
The assistant smiled. “Madam is wise as ever.”
—
At lunch, Julian’s thoughts drifted to Cora.
She’d gone into the office that morning. What’s she eating now? he wondered, irritated at himself for caring.
But Cora wasn’t at the office cafeteria.
A call from Dina had pulled her out.
“Cora, I’m going in for chemo today. Could you come sit with me for a bit?” Dina’s voice was soft, almost frail.
“Of course.” Cora checked the time—it was already after hours—and agreed.
She arrived with her assistant and a security aide in tow.
For a moment, jealousy flared in Dina’s eyes. All this protection—all this privilege—used to be hers.
She smoothed it over with a practiced smile. “Cora, you came! I don’t know anyone else in Lindon. You’re the only one I can talk to.”
“Sorry,” Cora said kindly. “Work ran late. Do you want me to go with you for the treatment?”
Dina waved it off too quickly. “No need. You’re pregnant—you shouldn’t be around hospitals much. It’s only the early sessions; it’s not that serious.”
Cora nodded, reassured.
Then Dina leaned forward, eyes bright with curiosity. “I heard Watson Group is partnering with Mayer Corp. Is that true?”
Cora smiled. “The news travels fast. It’s still preliminary—just an agreement in principle. I’m actually learning how to manage the case myself. I used to work in logistics, so I’ve been cramming business materials all morning.”