Chapter 21: Heartburn

Knoxville

My dad clapped his hands together, the sharp sound echoing through the room as he stared at me with an expression of genuine admiration. His eyes sparkled, and a wide smile spread across his face.

"I am so impressed," he exclaimed, his voice filled with warmth and pride. "I can't believe you put those people in their place."

I scoffed, feeling a surge of satisfaction knowing I had finally earned his approval. It had been years since I'd seen that look of genuine admiration on his face.

"Dad, I didn't do much," I said nonchalantly, sinking deeper into the plush sofa, my back resting comfortably against the cushions. "I just let them know their place and when not to discuss business and rivalry."

My dad's smile never wavered. "That's exactly what I'm talking about, son," he said, walking closer to me. "You're showing the kind of strength and leadership I knew you were capable of."

He paused, his eyes locked onto mine.

"You're beginning to understand the importance of assertiveness and boundaries. That's progress, and I couldn't be prouder."

A warmth spread through my chest at his words, and for a moment, I felt a deep connection to him.

"Come on, drink your wine," my dad said, his voice inviting as he poured the rich, crimson liquid into delicate glasses.

I scoffed, shaking my head. "Dad, I don't want to drink alcohol."

His eyes narrowed slightly, surprise flickering across his face.

"Why do you always reject drinking with me?" he asked, his tone laced with sarcasm and a hint of disappointment.

"I bought this wine for $15,000, and I reserved it for special occasions like this. Yet, you dismiss it like it's nothing."

He held out a glass, his gaze expectant.

"It's a 20-year-old vintage, son. One of the finest. Share this moment with me."

I frowned, feeling a pang of guilt.

"Dad, it's not about the wine. I just don't feel comfortable drinking."

I guess he didn't even notice I stopped drinking, and wouldn't even ask why," I thought bitterly. "All he cares about is business and controlling my life."

"The price of the wine doesn't matter," I said aloud, my voice even. "It's just change compared to the money you have."

My dad scoffed, his expression dismissive. "You're so full of yourself. Maxwell seems more fun than you."

My anger flared, palpable and intense. Hearing that name and being compared to him ignited a fire within me.

"I'll have the drink," I said abruptly, snatching the glass from his hand.

My dad's face lit up with a triumphant smile. "That's my son," he said, pouring himself another glass.

I raised the glass to my lips, the wine's rich aroma filling my senses. But my mind seethed with resentment, the taste bitter.

"This is bitter," I said, wrinkling my nose in distaste. "I don't even feel the taste."

My dad chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Come on, son, acclimate to it. It's one of the finest vintages. You need to be more social, attend gatherings, and stop locking yourself up during weekends. You're the son of a wealthy man; behave like one."

I forced a smile, hiding my discontent.

"What's the point of being social?" I asked, my voice laced with skepticism. "The more people you try to get close to, the more they hurt you. Why not stick to myself?"

I took another sip of the wine, the bitterness lingering.

My dad's expression turned serious, his gaze intensifying. "Let's drop that topic. I almost forgot; I have something important to discuss with you."

He set his glass down on the table, the clink echoing through the room.

"What is it?" I asked, curiosity piqued.

My dad leaned forward, his voice taking on a grave tone. "I've found a suitable lady for you," he announced.

I smirked, feigning interest. Inside, I recoiled at the thought.

"I know Maxwell is next in line, and if we don't secure this alliance, he'll gain Father's favor," I thought to myself.

But I had my own plans. Even if I had to marry the woman my dad chose, I would negotiate a contract.

"She can do whatever she wants, and so will I. Separate rooms, separate lives," I thought, already mentally checking out.

My ultimate goal remained unchanged: find Electra, apologize, and make amends.

Once I'd secured my family's legacy, I'd divorce this arranged wife and we could go our separate ways.

"Dad, who's this lady?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.

My dad's eyebrows shot up, surprised by my interest.

"She's your mother's best friend's daughter," he replied. "They're extremely close, practically family. Your mother has helped her on numerous occasions, and now her business is thriving."

I scoffed, incredulous.

"Oh really!" I exclaimed, my tone laced with skepticism.

My dad nodded, a warm smile spreading across his face.

"Yes, really. Your mother was instrumental in Tiana's success. She mentored her, provided valuable connections, "

"She and your mother made a pact when you and her daughter were young," my dad said, his voice filled with finality. "They promised to arrange your marriage, and I think it's time."

I scoffed, my mind reeling in protest.

"A week or two from now, you'll meet," he continued, his tone brooking no argument.

I took a deep breath, attempting to process this sudden revelation.

"Just who is—"

But before I could ask, my dad's phone rang, shrill in the silence.

He answered, listening briefly before ending the call.

"Son, you'll learn her name when you meet," he said, his expression distracted.

"I'm afraid I've forgotten her name. I have urgent matters to attend to."

He summoned his secretary, Tyler. With that, he exited the room with Tyler, leaving me stunned.

The door closed behind him, and I felt the weight of my impending fate.

"Gosh! How could my mother plan an arranged marriage for me when I was just a child?" I exclaimed, incredulous.

Suddenly, a searing sensation spread across my chest, and I knew it wasn't just anger boiling over. The alcohol was taking its toll.

Stupid me, forgetting the pains of my past. The burning sensation intensified, a harsh reminder of the heartburn I'd been trying to ignore.

I clenched my fists, frustration and resentment swirling inside. My mind raced with unanswered questions.

Why did she do this? She could atleast have told me before she passed away, now j a

m in love with someone else.

The room began to spin, and I felt lightheaded. I felt like I was going to collapse.

I needed air.