RICHARD'S POV Man, the things we do for respect. I swear, inviting the Chairman over wouldn't be such a big deal if I didn’t have to prove a point. First the penthouse suite, now a brand new car. This better be worth it. The Chairman deserved a grand invitation, a statement. And what better statement than rolling up in a brand new set of wheels? This dealership was supposed to be one of the best in town, all sleek lines and that new car smell. I was ready to throw down some serious cash. Except, the second I walked through the door, I saw her. Brenda? Brenda freaking Miller? Or whatever-her-name-was, from high school. What are the odds? She was perched behind a massive desk, all sleek hair and power suit, looking like she owned the place. Well, I guess she kind of did. The universe had a messed up sense of humor. “Brenda? Wow, hey! Didn’t expect to see you here.” I tried to sound casual, but honestly, seeing her brought back a flood of memories. Mostly bad ones involving her

RICHARD’SPOV "Are you sure that's real?" Brenda sputtered, her perfectly manicured fingernail finding its way between her teeth. "That transfer, I mean. It's not... manipulated or anything?" I laughed. "Honey, you're starting to sound paranoid. You think I hacked into Bill Gates' account or something?" "Well, you never know these days," she mumbled, her eyes darting between Hawthorne's phone and the door, as if expecting the FBI to storm in and arrest me for fraud. "For all we know, you could be running some elaborate scam." "Brenda, sweetheart, if I were running a scam, don't you think I'd aim a little higher than a used car dealership?" I said, my voice laced with amusement. “I could have easily swiped my card at Hawthorne Motors, you know. Saved us both a lot of time. But where's the fun in that? I wanted you to see this. To see the opportunity you just flushed down the toilet with your little judgmental attitude." Brenda went silent, her face a mask of disbelief and dawni

RICHARD'S POV Before anyone could recover their breath, much less their voice, I stepped forward, ignoring the gasps and glares directed at my back. My gaze never left Amelia's, my "I'm here'" I announced, my voice echoing in the sudden stillness, "because there's something you need to know. Something everyone needs to know." Taking another step towards her, each footfall a thunderclap in the silence, I declared, "Amelia...will you marry me?” Silence. Like a thick fog, it settled over the grand living room. I almost chuckled – did they think silence was intimidating? Then, a sudden, sharp scream cut through the quiet. It was high-pitched and shaky, like the sound of old dishes being dropped. Amelia's grandma, who was wearing tons of jewelry, like a king's treasure chest, burst out laughing. Her laughter was loud and long. "Marry? You, you...boy thinks he's worthy of marrying *my* Amelia?" Each word dripped with venom, her face twisted in a weird smile that wasn't really

RICHARD’S POV“Richard, are you sure you’re feeling alright?” Dennis’s voice crackled through the phone, a hint of amusement in his tone. “You know the Van Der Lins aren’t actually in the consortium, right? They’ve been trying to weasel their way in for years, but no luck so far.” I froze, my finger hovering over the “End Call” button. Wait, what? Had I misheard him? Was this some kind of elaborate joke?“Dennis, you’re messing with me, right?” I asked, my voice tight. He chuckled, a low rumble that did little to ease my apprehension. “Son, I wouldn’t joke about something like this. Those consortium spots are like gold dust. People would kill to get their hands on one.”“Right,” I muttered, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. “Of course. I'm just making sure we were on the same page.” For a moment, I stood there, phone pressed to my ear, trying to process this unexpected turn of events. The Van Der Lins weren't even in the consortium. They were just wannabes, puffing o

RICHARD’S POV “Father!” Grandma White, Amelia’s grandmother, trilled, practically levitating from her seat in excitement. “You’re back early!” Amelia’s grandfather, a tall, imposing figure with a shock of white hair and eyes that could cut diamonds, strode into the room like he owned the place. Which, considering this was his house, wasn’t entirely inaccurate. Introductions were made, handshakes exchanged. I plastered on my most charming smile, doing my best to exude an air of polite respectability. The old man, however, wasn't easily swayed by charm, even charm as potent as mine. He subjected me to a scrutiny so intense I could practically feel my skin prickling under his gaze. "So, Richard," he began, his voice a gravelly baritone that spoke of countless board meetings and ruthless business deals. “Tell me about your family. What line of work are your parents in?” “My mother,” I said, choosing my words carefully, “is…retired. And my father…” I paused, letting the silen