Chapter 10 meaningless syllables.
Finally, he forced himself out of the car and into the house.
His father was waiting in the entryway. Still in his work suit, tie loosened. He looked exhausted. Older than fifty-one. Sick in a way that makeup and expensive clothes couldn’t quite hide.
But Richard Frost had looked sick for months now. Aiden had stopped asking about it after the first dozen times his father said he was fine.
“You’re soaked,” Richard said.
“It’s raining.” Aiden’s voice came out flat.
“I can see that.” A pause. “How bad was the attack?”
“Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters. You’re my son.”
“Then maybe you should stop calling me during them.”
The words came out harsher than Aiden intended. His father’s face did something complicated…hurt, then controlled, then blank.
“Go change,” Richard said. “Meet me in my study in ten minutes.”
“What’s this about?”
“Ten minutes, Aiden.”
The use of his full name meant something serious. Meant no arguing. Meant whatever was about to happen would change things.
Aiden went to his room, the East Wing suite that was technically his space but never felt like home. Everything was too clean, too perfect, too carefully curated by interior designers who’d never asked what he actually wanted.
He changed into dry clothes. Tried to fix his hair and gave up. Stared at himself in the bathroom mirror and saw his mother’s eyes looking back at him. Gray like storm clouds. Like the weather that had killed her.
He splashed cold water on his face and headed for the third floor.
His father’s study door was open. Richard sat behind his desk, and Marcus was there too. The lawyer slash assistant who’d been with the family for five years. Seeing Marcus meant legal. Meant contracts and paperwork and things Aiden would be forced to sign.
“Close the door,” Richard said.
Aiden closed it. Sat in one of the leather chairs without being asked. Crossed his arms.
“What’s going on?”
“How much do you know about Frost Industries’ current situation?” his father asked.
“Enough. Winters is trying to take over the company. You’ve been fighting him for a year. It’s literally all you talk about at dinner.”
“What I haven’t talked about is how close we are to losing.” Richard leaned forward, hands clasped on the desk. Aiden noticed they were trembling slightly. “The shareholder vote is in three months. If Winters wins, he takes control. And based on current projections, he will win.”
“Okay. So stop him.”
“I’m trying. But there’s a complication.” Richard paused, choosing his words carefully. “A clause in the company bylaws. Put in place by your grandfather fifty years ago. It states that during a hostile takeover attempt, controlling interest automatically transfers to a married heir.”
Aiden blinked. “Okay. So?”
“So I’m not married. Not anymore and I am dying.”
“Right. Because Mom died.” The words tasted like ash.
“Yes. And because of that, the clause can’t protect us. Unless…” Richard stopped. Started again. “Unless you get married.”
The words didn’t make sense at first. Then they hit.
“What?” Aiden’s voice came out strangled.
“You’re eighteen. Legally an adult. If you marry before the shareholder vote, control of the company transfers to you instead of Winters. We win. Simple.”
“Simple,” Aiden repeated the word as if it were a foreign language. “You want me to get married. In three months.”
“Less than three months now. Ninety days.”
“To whom?”
“I’ve already found someone.” Richard nodded to Marcus, who opened his folder and slid a photo across the desk.
Aiden stared at it.
A girl with dark hair pulled back in a messy bun. Fierce eyes that looked like they’d seen too much. Standing in a commercial kitchen, flour on her hands and exhaustion on her face. Maybe seventeen. Maybe younger. She looked like she was drowning.
“No,” Aiden said immediately, pushing the photo back. “Absolutely not.”
“Aiden…”
“I’m not getting married. I’m eighteen. I’m not…no. Just no.”
“Her name is Ariella Hayes,” Richard continued like Aiden hadn’t spoken. “Her family owns a small bakery in the Alberta district. They’re facing eviction. They owe over twenty thousand dollars in back rent and related fees.”
“Then help them! Write them a check! You don’t have to force me to marry her!”
“It’s not about helping them. It’s about saving the company. About protecting you and Lily after I’m gone.” Richard’s voice was steady but his hands were still shaking. “About making sure you have the power to fight back against people like Winters.”
“This is insane.”
“This is necessary.”
“No.” Aiden stood up, knocking his chair back. “This is you being a control freak. This is you trying to manipulate everyone’s lives because you can’t accept that some things are outside your control.”
“Sit down.”
“I’m not sitting down! You’re asking me to marry a stranger! To lie to everyone! To…” His voice cracked. “To ruin some innocent girl’s life because you need me to save your company!”
“It’s your company too,” Richard said quietly. “It will be yours someday.”
“I don’t want it! I never wanted it! I want to study architecture. I want to design buildings, not run a corporation. I want to be literally anyone other than Richard Frost’s heir.”
The words hung in the air like smoke.
His father’s face went carefully blank. “I see.”
“Do you? Do you actually see me, Dad? Or do you just see another piece on your chessboard?”
“That’s not fair.”
“None of this is fair!” Aiden was yelling now, and couldn’t stop himself. “You’re dying…which you apparently didn’t think was important enough to tell me until right now, and you’re using your death to manipulate me into…”
He stopped. Replayed what he’d just said.
“Wait.” His voice went hollow. “What did I just say?”
Richard’s face crumpled. Just for a second. Then he pulled it back together with visible effort.
“Sit down, Aiden.”
“You’re dying.” Aiden sank back into the chair, legs giving out. “You said…I said…you’re dying?”