Chapter 11 Family
The O'Malley estate was quiet except for the low hum of the evening news playing on the screen mounted above the fireplace. Greyson barely paid attention, pushing food around his plate as his father, Owen, dissected the latest business dealings with cold precision. His sister, Meagan, chimed in occasionally, but Greyson's mind was elsewhere—on Cassie, on the way she'd looked at him the last time they spoke, like she was waiting for him to say something he couldn't.
The dining room felt suffocating tonight, all polished mahogany and crystal that caught the light from the chandelier overhead. Everything in the O'Malley home was designed to impress, to remind visitors—and family—of their place in the world. Greyson had grown up surrounded by this luxury, but lately, it felt more like a cage than a comfort.
"The Henderson deal closes next week," Owen was saying, cutting into his steak with surgical precision. "We'll need to move quickly on the Portland acquisition once that's finalized."
Meagan nodded, scrolling through something on her tablet. "The environmental impact study came back clean. No red flags."
Greyson's fork scraped against his plate, the sound sharp in the quiet room. He'd heard variations of this conversation a thousand times—deals and acquisitions, profit margins and strategic advantages. It was the soundtrack of his childhood, the rhythm his family moved to. But tonight, it felt like white noise.
"You're unusually quiet tonight," Owen observed, his pale blue eyes fixing on his son. "Something on your mind?"
Greyson shrugged, not trusting himself to speak. How could he explain that he'd been thinking about the way Cassie's eyes crinkled when she laughed? Or how she'd insisted on paying for her own coffee the last time they'd met, even though he'd asked her out? She had this way of making him feel like just Greyson, not the O'Malley heir, not the future CEO of a business empire just a man who wanted to know everything about her.
"The Hunter girl, I'd imagine," Owen said, and Greyson's head snapped up. His father's expression was unreadable, but there was something calculating in his gaze. "You've been seen with her. Multiple times."
The words hung in the air like a challenge. Greyson felt his jaw tighten. "I wasn't aware I needed permission to have coffee with someone."
"You don't," Owen replied smoothly. "But you do need to consider the implications. The Hunters aren't just anyone, Greyson. Logan Hunter and I have a... complicated history."
Meagan looked up from her tablet, suddenly interested. "What kind of history?"
Owen's smile was sharp. "The kind that makes mixing business with pleasure particularly unwise."
Before Greyson could respond, the news anchor's voice cut through the tension, drawing their attention to the screen.
"Breaking tonight Cassandra Hunter, daughter of billionaire Logan Hunter, was rushed to Mercy General Hospital following an alleged altercation with Jake Henley, CEO of Henley Holdings. Sources say the incident left her with serious but non-life-threatening injuries."
The words hit Greyson like a physical blow. His fork clattered against his plate, the sound echoing in the sudden silence. His entire body went rigid, his pulse roaring in his ears. The screen flashed an image of Cassie her smile, her bright eyes, the way she'd looked when she'd laughed at something he'd said just days ago before cutting to footage of the hospital, reporters swarming the entrance like vultures.
No.
The word screamed in his head, but he couldn't make a sound. Cassie was hurt. Someone had hurt her. Jake Turner he knew that name, knew the man's reputation. The thought of that bastard laying a hand on her made his vision blur with rage.
He was on his feet before he could think, his chair scraping back violently against the hardwood floor. The sound broke the spell, and suddenly the room was in motion.
Owen didn't even look up from his wine.
"Sit down."
Greyson ignored him, already reaching for his phone with trembling fingers. He needed to call the hospital, needed to know if she was okay, needed to
"Greyson." Owen's voice was steel, cutting through his panic. "I said sit."
"She's hurt," Greyson snapped, his voice rough with emotion. The words came out harsher than he intended, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Cassie was in a hospital bed because some entitled prick thought he could put his hands on her.
"And?" Owen finally lifted his gaze, his blue eyes glacial. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. "What exactly do you plan to do? Storm into a Hunter stronghold and declare yourself her protector?"
The condescension in his father's tone made Greyson's hands clench into fists.
"If that's what it takes."
Owen set his glass down with deliberate calm, the crystal making a soft clink against the table.
"You will do nothing. The Hunters are not our allies. They never have been."
"This isn't about alliances," Greyson growled, his control slipping. "This is about a woman who's been hurt. This is about doing the right thing."
"The right thing?" Owen's laugh was cold. "The right thing is protecting this family. The right thing is not getting involved in Hunter family drama that could destroy everything we've built."
Meagan shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "Dad, maybe we should..."
"Stay out of this, Meagan," Owen commanded, never taking his eyes off Greyson. "Your brother needs to remember who he is."
"It's always about alliances," Owen continued, his voice dropping to that dangerous tone Greyson remembered from childhood the one that meant the conversation was over, that defiance would have consequences.
"Or have you forgotten who you are?"
Before Greyson could retort, before he could tell his father exactly what he thought of putting business before basic human decency, a small voice piped up from the doorway.
"I like Cassie."
Liam stood there, his dark hair messy from playing outside, his arms crossed stubbornly over his faded t-shirt. At eleven years old, he had his mother's softness but his father's fire, and right now, that fire was directed at his grandfather with the kind of fearless determination that only children possessed.
Owen's expression shifted just slightly at the sight of his grandson. When he spoke, his voice was gentler, but no less firm.
"Liam, this doesn't concern you."
"Yes, it does," Liam insisted, marching into the room with all the confidence of someone who'd never learned to be afraid of Owen O'Malley. "Cassie's nice. She reads me stories and lets me help in the bakery. If she's hurt, we should go see her."
Greyson's chest tightened. He crouched to Liam's level, his hands settling on his son's shoulders. "You've spent time with her?"
Liam nodded vigorously.
"Aunt Meagan took me to the bakery when you were working. Cassie said I was the best cookie decorator she's ever met." His face scrunched up with worry. "Is she gonna be okay?"
The simple question, asked with such genuine concern, made Greyson's heart ache. This was what mattered—not business deals or family feuds, but the fact that someone good and kind was hurting.
Greyson shot a sharp look at Meagan, who shrugged unapologetically. "What? The kid wanted sprinkles. And she makes incredible lemon bars."
"She taught me how to make flowers out of frosting," Liam added, his voice getting smaller. "And she always asks about school and soccer and stuff. She remembers everything."
Owen exhaled sharply, his composure cracking slightly. "This is exactly why attachments are a liability."
The coldness in his father's voice, the casual dismissal of his grandson's feelings, made something snap inside Greyson. He stood, gripping Liam's shoulder protectively. "We're going."
Owen rose from his seat, his presence filling the room like a storm cloud. Even at sixty-two, he was an imposing figure—tall, broad-shouldered, with the kind of presence that commanded attention and obedience. "If you walk out that door, you're choosing her over this family."
Greyson didn't hesitate. "Then I guess my choice is made."
Liam grabbed his hand, his small fingers squeezing tight. "I'm coming too."
Owen's voice was icy. "You do not take my grandson into a warzone."
"It's a hospital," Greyson corrected, already heading for the door. "And he's my son."
The words hung in the air like a gauntlet thrown down. Owen's face went rigid, and for a moment, Greyson thought his father might actually try to stop him physically. But then Owen's expression shifted to something worse disappointment so profound it was almost physical.
"You're making a mistake," Owen said quietly. "One that could cost us everything."
Greyson paused at the threshold, looking back at the man who'd raised him, who'd taught him everything about business and nothing about compassion.
"Maybe. But it's my mistake to make."
As they walked toward the garage, Liam looked up at him.
"Dad? Are you scared?"
Greyson considered lying, considered giving his son the kind of confident answer he thought he was supposed to give. Instead, he squeezed Liam's hand.
"Yeah, buddy. I am."
"Me too," Liam admitted. "Cassie would come see us if we were hurt. She's that kind of person."
That simple truth that cut through all of Owen's calculations and concerns. Cassie was the kind of person who would drop everything for someone she cared about. The kind of person who remembered an eleven-year-old's favorite cookie decoration and asked about his soccer games. The kind of person who deserved to know that someone cared enough to show up when she needed them.
As they climbed into the car, Greyson caught sight of the estate in his rearview mirror all lights and luxury, beautiful and cold. For the first time in his life, he didn't feel like he was leaving home. He felt like he was finally heading toward it.