Chapter 49--Buying Her Off

*Amber*

I walk down the long corridor of the imposing office building, my heart pounding against my ribcage. Mr. Holden, strides confidently ahead of me, his tall figure casting a shadow over my petite frame.

My mind races with thoughts, on why he would want to talk to me. But deep down, I already know the answer to that. I take a deep breath, my eyes trailing to the surroundings, as I look for a means to distract myself from the anxiety gnawing at my insides.

The office building exudes an air of power and sophistication. The walls are draped with tasteful paintings, and the plush carpet beneath my feet muffles the sound of my hurried steps. The lighting is soft, casting a warm glow that somehow fails to reach the icy knot forming in my stomach. As we walk, I steal glances at Mr. Holden’s broad back, his tailored suit exuding authority...over me. He moves with purpose, his stride commanding attention from anyone who crosses his path. I find myself struggling to match his brisk pace, my heels echoing weakly in the expansive corridor.

We finally reach his office, a door of polished mahogany that seems to heighten my anxiety. Mr. Holden extends a hand, indicating for me to enter first. My fingers tremble slightly as I grasp the brass doorknob and push open the heavy door.

The office is spacious, with floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a breathtaking view of the city skyline. A large, polished desk dominates the room, cluttered with files and an array of neatly stacked papers. The air carries a faint scent of leather and rich mahogany, blending with the unmistakable aura of authority that hangs in the room.

Mr. Holden walks around the desk and takes a seat in an elegant leather chair, while I nervously perch on the edge of a plush armchair opposite him. His piercing blue eyes meet mine, and I see a hint of sternness lurking beneath their icy depths. The grand mahogany desk, adorned with an assortment of elegant stationery, dominates the room’s center. Its surface is cluttered with stacks of papers, files, and folders. The scent of leather from the chair cushions mingles with the faint whiff of fresh ink, creating an atmosphere that is both sophisticated and intimidating.

“Amber, please have a seat,” he says, his voice cool and controlled. His tone sends shivers down my spine, and I do as he requests, lowering myself into the cushioned comfort of the armchair.

I fold my hands in my lap, trying to still their slight trembling. My mind races, wondering what he wants to discuss. Is he going to demand that I end my engagement to his son? Or worse, will he try to convince me that I’m not worthy of his family?

My nerves coil tighter as Mr. Holden leans forward, his gaze fixed on me with an intensity that makes it hard to breathe. I steel myself, readying for whatever he is going to say.

“I am positive that you are aware of why I called you here?” he asks, his eyes dimming as if he is trying to stare into my soul.

I swallow, lubricating my throat as I attempt to regain my voice.

“No sir,” I say, my voice as low as a whisper.

Mr Holden straightens on his chair, his icy gaze never leaving me. “I cannot comprehend the stunt that Ryan pulled back there, but I want you to understand that it meant nothing.” He leans in again, his eyes colder than ever. “You cannot marry my son.”

I bite my inner lips an emotion surging within me. Is it anger? Sadness? I cannot tell, but the emotions are slowly overwhelming me, threatening to spill out. I grab fistfuls of the fabric covering my thighs as I opened my mouth to speak.

“Just why” —my voice trembles— “are you so hell-bent on breaking of my engagement with Ryan? I love him, he loves me, and that is all that matters.”

I can feel fury burning with me. Mr Holden scoffs, his expression indifferent, as If my words mean nothing to him. “Love? That is such a meager emotion. You do not need such an emotion to run a company.”

“Are you saying the company is more important than your son’s happiness?” I retort, suddenly feeling a wave of courage.

Mr Holden’s body goes stiff and he frowns at me. “The company’s happiness is equivalent to ours. You can say whatever you want, you can make a fuss about this, but my decision is made. You will not marry my son.”

I grit my teeth my eyes trailing to my lap, as I am unable to control the thunderstorm of negative emotions swirling inside of me.

“What about our son? Ryan and I have a son together.”

Mr Holden chuckles, which catches me off guard. “Is that what this is about?”

I snap my eyes off, confusion marring my face as I look at him. “What?”

“I should’ve known,” he says as he rises up from his chair. I watch him, astonished as he walks to the nearest cabinet. He pulls it open, fishing out a bulky brown envelope. He walks back to his chair, plopping down in it and sliding the bulky envelope towards me.

From the shape of the envelope, I have a clear idea on what was in it. I raise my eyes to him, a frown furrowing my brows.

“Why are you giving me this?”

“Isn’t that what you want?” he scoffs. “You want to the money, and you are using your son as leverage?”

I go owl eyed, a pang growing in my chest. No, it is not a pang, it is anger. I shoot up from the plush chair, my eyes blazing with anger as they glistened with tears.

“How dare y—“

Before I can finish my sentence, the loud sound of the door bursting open cuts me off.

My gaze turns instinctively toward the disturbance, and my breath catches in my throat as I see Ryan standing there, his expression a mixture of concern and rage. He takes in the scene—the teary glimmer in my eyes, the tension in the room—and his jaw tightens.

“Father, how dare you?” His voice is sharp, laced with fury. “You will not hurt Amber, and you will not interfere with our relationship. We’re getting married, regardless of what you say or do.”

Mr. Holden’s face registers surprise, his gaze flickering between his son and me. He opens his mouth to speak, but Ryan cuts him off, his tone commanding and unwavering.

“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.”

Ryan strides forward, his eyes locked with mine, and he reaches out a hand, silently urging me to leave the suffocating confines of his father’s office. I feel a mix of relief flood over me, and I take his hand without hesitation.

“We’re leaving, father,” Ryan declares firmly. “And don’t think for a second that this will change anything. Amber is the woman I love, and we are getting married. You’ll come to accept it in time, or you’ll find yourself estranged from your own son.”