Chapter 3: The Rival Returns

The BL Holdings deal was something the Sullivan family had been chasing for half a year.

Everyone in Savannah’s business world knew about the BL negotiations—six months of late-night phone calls, endless steak dinners at Vic’s, and my father’s hair growing a little grayer with every setback.

All the details were finalized, but BL still wouldn’t sign.

We’d tried every possible approach, but nothing worked.

My father was so worried about this deal that his hair had turned white.

I have to admit, Grant knew how to win people over.

This contract was a huge victory for Sullivan Enterprises.

My father was choked with emotion, unable to speak.

Facing Grant, he couldn’t keep up a stern face, but he couldn’t smile either.

Grant stood with his hands at his sides, eyes lowered, before my father. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, his expression calm and composed.

Mr. Peterson let out a long breath and started applauding.

“Old Sullivan, what do you think? My son isn’t bad, right?”

“One move, and he helped you secure BL. He deserves a reward.”

With Mr. Peterson leading, after a brief hesitation, the others at the table joined in the applause. The atmosphere gradually relaxed.

But Grant—after humiliating the Sullivan family like this, did you really think you could just sweep it all under the rug?

I frowned, eyes red, and walked up to Grant, giving him a slow once-over.

“Grant, why are you still wearing the suit you wore to pick me up?”

“Was taking care of Miss Foster so exhausting you didn’t even have time to change?”

The banquet hall went dead silent. Grant’s smile froze.

I forced a smile, stepped forward, and gently pushed him out.

“Go home, take a shower, change your clothes, and get some rest.”

“Don’t worry, I’m here.”

A loud crash sounded behind me. Without turning, I knew it was my father.

Mr. Peterson’s voice rang out, “Stop! You’re not going anywhere!”

Amid the standoff, a frail figure rushed in from the doorway, squeezing herself between me and Grant.

“Don’t make things difficult for Grant.”

“Blame me—it’s all my fault.”

The one who came was none other than the reason Grant abandoned me: his first love, Allison Foster.

It was late autumn, yet Allison wore a thin, pure white cotton dress. Her frail body trembled in the cold. The hush in the room was so sharp I could hear the ice clink in someone’s glass across the hall.

She looked like she’d just wandered out of a Southern Gothic novel—pale and ghostly under the hotel’s chandelier light. Her arms wrapped around herself, and the Petersons’ monogrammed coat hung heavy on her shoulders, almost swallowing her whole.

Under everyone’s gaze, Grant said nothing, just took off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“I told you to wait for me in the car. Why did you come up?”

“Are you cold?”

Allison’s face was deathly pale. She blushed, eyes red, leaning against Grant’s chest.

“Grant, don’t fight with Mr. Peterson because of me. It’s not worth it.”

“I don’t have much time left. I can’t let you be left with a mess.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried across the hall. I could see the pity in some guests’ eyes, others looked away, embarrassed to witness such raw drama.

After a few words, Allison started coughing violently.

Grant’s brows knitted tightly. Without another word, he scooped Allison up in his arms.

“Allie, don’t be afraid. I’ll take you to the hospital.”

Without sparing a glance at anyone else, Grant lowered his head, murmuring softly to comfort Allison as he strode out.

“Grant! Stop right there!”

Mr. Peterson was furious. He shouted, “If you dare walk out that door, you’re no longer part of the Peterson family!”

Grant paused, turned, and looked coldly at Mr. Peterson.

“My biggest regret is letting you send Allie away all those years ago.”

“Do you think you can still control me like you did then?”

Mr. Peterson’s face turned ashen, but he couldn’t utter a word.

My father shook his head. “Old Peterson, looks like you’re not in charge of the Peterson family anymore.”

Grant looked at my father, the corners of his mouth curving slightly.

“Dad, the first thing I did after returning wasn’t to get Allie hospitalized, but to deliver the BL contract to you.”

“This is my greatest sincerity toward the future of the Peterson and Sullivan families.”

“Some things are better left unsaid.”

He turned to me, his eyes cold.

“Natalie, I promised to marry you, and I did.”

“You’ve got the name, Natalie. The house, the money. That’s all I can give you. Don’t ask for more.”

With that, he carried Allison away without looking back.

Curled in his arms, Allison turned her head, staring straight at me. The corners of her lips curled into the faintest smile.

The room was so quiet, I could hear the rain starting to tap against the windows. Someone coughed, and I realized I was holding my breath. Southern society can forgive many things, but public humiliation isn’t one of them. Still, I stood my ground, chin up, letting everyone see the tears in my eyes but not a single crack in my resolve.