Chapter 6: The Heir’s Ultimatum

I turned off my phone, letting the silence fill the room.

Finally, I could breathe. The quiet was a relief after all the noise.

I remembered when I drank myself into the hospital with stomach bleeding—and Madeline didn’t even visit. I’d never felt so pathetic.

The memory burned. I’d waited, convinced she’d come. But she never did. The loneliness stung deeper than any wound.

Suddenly, a knock at the door. The girl from earlier peeked in, holding a tiny cake, her cheeks pink and eyes bright.

She stepped in shyly, clutching a small cake with a single candle. Her eyes shone, hopeful—a sharp contrast to the coldness I’d grown used to.

"Mr. Reed, I heard today is your birthday. This was supposed to be my midnight snack, but I’ll give it to you. Happy birthday!"

Her words were soft, genuine. She set the cake on the table and lit the candle, the flame flickering and casting a gentle glow over everything.

I was stunned—it really was my birthday, at least on paper. Madeline always complained it was too close to Christmas, so I usually celebrated a different day.

I’d nearly forgotten. Every year, Madeline would grumble about the timing, saying it messed up her holiday plans. This year, I hadn’t even bothered to bring it up. Yet here was someone who remembered.

I wanted to refuse, but the girl just blinked up at me, waiting. She sat beside me, lighting the candle and nudging the cake closer.

She smiled, her eyes full of anticipation. I couldn’t say no. She pushed the cake toward me, waiting patiently for me to make a wish.

"Make a wish."

Her voice was gentle, coaxing. I stared at the candle, the little flame dancing in the quiet. For the first time in a long time, I felt seen.

In the past, my only wish was to be with Madeline, forever. Now, I just sighed.

The wish stuck in my throat, the old dreams falling apart. I let out a long breath and closed my eyes. Maybe it was time to wish for something new.

She tilted her head, confused. Just as I was about to make up an excuse, my phone rang. Madeline’s ringtone. I already knew what she’d say, so I didn’t answer. The phone went quiet. Someone as proud as her would never call twice.

The ringtone echoed through the office, sharp and insistent. I let it ring out, then relished the silence that followed—a small victory.

"Sierra."

The girl in front of me jumped when I said her name, startled out of her thoughts.

She straightened, eyes wide with surprise. I smiled, trying to reassure her.

"Go home and pack up. You’re coming on a business trip with me tomorrow."

She blinked, taking a second to process, then her face broke into a hesitant smile.

I remembered her. Once, I’d gotten drunk and passed out in the office. When I woke up, my head was in someone’s lap, and the girl in front of me was staring with big, catlike eyes, holding a phone. I panicked, told her to delete the photo and resign—I’d pay her a hundred grand. She shook her head, trying to explain, but I called HR before she could. Later, I found out I’d mistaken her for Madeline and slept on her lap all night. She was just ordering breakfast for me, and never took the money. Once I realized, I had HR bring her back. Seeing her working late and crying tonight, I guessed someone was making things tough for her.

The memory made me cringe. I’d been too harsh, too quick to judge. Watching her tonight, I realized she deserved better. Maybe this trip would give us both a chance to start over.

After I spoke, Sierra looked dazed, but then smiled sweetly and nodded.

She gathered her things, her eyes shining with hope. For a moment, I saw the determination beneath her shy exterior. Maybe she needed this as much as I did.

The next day, news of my canceled wedding with Madeline was everywhere. But I was already at the airport with my new assistant, waiting to board. Still, word got out, and reporters swarmed the terminal. Sierra hid behind me, clutching my sleeve. Her nervousness made what should have been a routine trip look suspicious. A sharp-eyed reporter asked, "Mr. Reed, did you call off the wedding with Miss Madeline because you have a new love?"

The terminal buzzed with questions, cameras flashing. Sierra clung to my arm, eyes wide and anxious. I stepped in front of her, jaw set.

I waved them off, saying simply to the cameras, "I’m tired."

I let the words hang, refusing to say more. The reporters pressed in, but I stared past them, daring them to push. The truth was, I was exhausted—of all of it.

Tired—of the suspicion, the endless arguments, the lines crossed again and again. Tired of convincing myself to trust her, night after night. For years, I’d been terrified of losing her. Now, I was just tired of living like this.

Saying it felt like a weight lifting off my chest. For the first time, I could breathe, could see a future that didn’t involve begging for scraps of love.

After landing, I turned my phone back on. Madeline called, her voice sharp and demanding.

Her words came fast, full of accusation. I could hear the anger, the panic—she wasn’t used to losing control.

"Evan, what does ‘tired’ mean? Right now, bring that woman to me and explain everything."

She sounded frantic, desperate to get the upper hand back. I stared out the window, watching the world rush by.

My voice was ice. "Don’t shout. It’s grating. Did you think I was joking before?"

I kept my tone flat, refusing to let her hear how much she still got to me. The tension buzzed on the line.

Madeline paused. "You said my voice is grating? Evan, do you even know what you’re doing? You promised me a grand wedding. So much money’s already been spent, and now you just call it off? In the news, who’s that woman hiding behind you—did you bring her just to provoke me?"

Her words tumbled out, each one sharper than the last. I could hear the panic, the fear that she was losing her grip.

I shot back, "Do you know what you did with Noah in the car? You sat on his lap, held the back of his head, kissed him like crazy. Did you forget you’re supposed to marry me? Madeline, you really disgust me."

I let the words fly, not caring if they hurt. For once, I wanted her to feel what I had.

With that, I blocked her number. For the first time, I didn’t feel heartbroken. I felt free.

The silence was bliss. I stared at my phone, realizing I’d finally cut the last tie.

Love is about responsibility, security, loyalty. She gave me none of that.

I thought of all the excuses I’d made, all the chances I’d given her. In the end, love without trust is just slow torture.

Next to me, Sierra looked up, her eyes bright and open. Sensing my gaze, she nervously gripped her bag. "Um, I—my eyesight isn’t great, and sometimes I get tinnitus."

She fidgeted, cheeks turning pink. Her honesty caught me off guard, a reminder that not everyone wore masks.

I didn’t answer. She looked around, anxious. "Right, Mr. Reed, can you tell me the work schedule for this trip so I can prepare?"

She bit her lip, waiting. I handed her a slip of paper, watching her shoulders relax a little.

I gave her an address and phone number. "There’s no set schedule. I came out here to look for a retirement place for my dad."

She nodded, understanding. For a moment, we just sat in silence, the tension of the past few days melting away.

Suddenly, I remembered my green-tea half-brother at home. Sure enough, he’d posted a new Instagram status: him and Dad, cheek-to-cheek, drinking coffee in the sun.

I scrolled, shaking my head at the staged photo. Noah’s captions were always syrupy, fishing for sympathy from anyone watching.

"After wandering outside for so many years, I finally get father-son time. So happy."

He’d written it in cursive, tagging Dad and adding a string of heart emojis. The comments were already piling up with praise.

I laughed. Did he really think crying and winning over women and old men would let him compete with me?

The whole thing was ridiculous. Let him have his moment. I knew where the real power in the family was.

Business abroad wrapped up fast, but I wasn’t ready to go home. I had Sierra arrange our schedule, and she surprised me by booking skydiving. High above, she grinned, dimples deep. "Mr. Reed, if you’re scared, you don’t have to force yourself."

The wind whipped around us, the world sprawling below. Sierra’s excitement was contagious, her laughter ringing out even over the roar of the engines. For a moment, I almost forgot everything else.

I couldn’t help but think of Madeline. Everyone knew how crazy I was about her. When she upset me, I’d blow cash on car races—never scared, even at breakneck speeds. So why now did my heart pound, my blood race, and I not want to look out at the sky? Turns out, I was afraid of dying. Yet I’d risked everything for her, again and again, living on the edge. Pathetic.

I stared at the horizon, heart thumping. It hit me—I’d risked everything for someone who wouldn’t even look back if I fell.

Sierra frowned slightly, gently wiped the sweat from my brow, then spoke to the staff to cancel the jump.

She squeezed my hand, her touch steady. She talked to the instructor, arranging for us to head back down. I felt a surge of gratitude for her kindness.

Sitting on the hotel’s private beach, I apologized. "Sorry, I ruined your fun."

The sand was cool under our feet, the ocean breeze tangling our hair. I stared at the waves, embarrassed by my fear.

I could tell she was looking forward to it. She handed me her lemonade, cheeks puffed out as she snorted a laugh.

She took a long sip, then passed it over. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, her laughter light and infectious.

"Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret. Being afraid of heights isn’t shameful. But refusing doesn’t mean giving up on dreams, love, or desire—it’s just protecting yourself."

Her words were gentle, wise beyond her years. I felt something warm in my chest, a feeling I hadn’t known in a long time.

Her voice was soft and sweet, like a kid trying to sound grown up. I reached out to ruffle her hair, but she instinctively grabbed my hand. Her touch was soft and warm. Her cheeks and ears went bright red. I looked away, but her faint scent lingered, making my heart skip.

The moment was awkward, but comforting. I let my hand drop, smiling at her embarrassment. For the first time, I wondered what it would be like to let someone new in.

After we got back, I asked if she wanted to keep working as my assistant. She shook her head quickly, like a little kid refusing medicine.

She looked down, twisting her hands. I saw the worry in her eyes, afraid she’d make things worse for me.

"Mr. Reed, I’m worried Madeline will misunderstand, so I’m sorry."

Her voice was barely above a whisper. She glanced up, searching for understanding. I nodded, letting her go without protest.

When she left, she smiled, a hint of sadness in her eyes. I knew what she was afraid of. But I also knew that besides me, no one really believed I’d given up on Madeline.

Her smile lingered in my mind long after she was gone. I sat in my office, staring at the empty chair across from me, wondering if I could ever move on.

After a few days away, I found that Noah had joined the firm with ease. He sat at the head of the conference table, soaking up the attention. Madeline wore a black jacket, diamond earrings sparkling—beautiful and untouchable. At that moment, she stood beside Noah, smiling at him. When I walked in, everyone stood up. I thought, do they not know who really runs this place? I’d built this company from scratch—no one could take it from me.

The conference room buzzed as I entered. Noah lounged at the head, basking in the admiration. Madeline laughed at something he said, her hand on his arm. A surge of anger hit me—these people owed everything to me, yet they crowded around the new favorite.

Noah stood and walked over, bowing his head just enough to look sorry.

He put on his best humble face. The others watched, waiting for my reaction.

"Bro, sorry. Don’t blame Dad—he insisted on letting Madeline come teach me management, said I should help you share the workload."

He spoke softly, words dripping with fake humility. I saw the challenge in his eyes, the smugness just below the surface.

He pressed his lips together, glancing nervously at Madeline, but the dare in his eyes was obvious.

He shifted his weight, eyes flicking to Madeline for support. I saw right through him. He wanted me to react, to give him another excuse to play the victim.

I shoved my hands in my pockets and looked at him. "Share the workload? With your scrawny frame, can you even handle the basics?"

The words slipped out. The room went silent, everyone waiting for the fallout. Noah’s face went white, his eyes watering.

His face paled, eyes reddening. He looked at Madeline for backup, but she just stared at the floor. I almost felt sorry for him—almost.

"Bro, if you want to scold me, just do it. Humiliate me all you want. I know you’re upset. As long as it makes you feel better, I’m willing to take it..."

He sniffled, voice trembling. The act was flawless, but I saw the satisfaction in his eyes—he was loving every second.

Madeline gave me a complicated look. "Enough, Evan. Do you have to bully him every time you see him? Can’t you act like a brother? Last time you slapped him, he had a headache for three days and you didn’t even care."

She stepped between us, her voice sharp. I saw the frustration in her eyes, the disappointment. For a moment, I wondered if she’d ever really loved me at all.

With that, she hugged the sobbing Noah.

She wrapped her arms around him, glaring at me over his shoulder. Noah pressed his face into her hair, squeezing every drop of sympathy from the moment.

I was speechless. I never thought Madeline would fall for a guy like this—always acting fragile, always crying, as if the world owed him something.

I stared at them, wondering how things had gotten so twisted. The woman I’d loved for a decade was now defending the brother who’d tried to take everything from me.

I pulled him out of Madeline’s arms. "You all go out. I have something to say to him alone."

I grabbed Noah’s arm, pulling him away from Madeline. The others filed out, shooting anxious glances back. The room was silent, tension thick.

Madeline glared at me, wanting to say something but holding back, then left with the others.

She paused in the doorway, eyes full of warning. I ignored her, focusing on the man who’d caused so much trouble.

Noah shrugged, all disdain now.

He dropped the act, his eyes hard. The mask of innocence slipped, replaced by something cold and calculating.

"Honestly, doesn’t it hurt? Madeline protects me so much—if she marries me in the end, will you lose your mind? You know, Dad already promised me shares. When I marry the woman you’ve always loved, you probably won’t even be able to stay in this company, right? No, that’s not enough. I want to take everything from you. Because it’s all what you owe me—and my mother!"

His words dripped with venom, each one loaded with resentment. I stared at him, realizing just how deep his hatred ran. This wasn’t about money or power—it was about revenge, about evening the score. And right then, I knew: I’d never let him win.