Chapter 96

LEVI

When I arrived at my father’s estate, I found him in unusually high spirits. That alone told me it was the perfect time to drop the news—I wouldn’t be marrying Jenna.
I knew he’d be pissed. He liked her. Approved of her. Jenna came from the kind of world he respected—pedigree, connections, image. But it is what it is.
Now the real challenge—how the hell do I tell him that the woman I’m about to marry is a waitress?
Not from our world. Not even close.
From the start, Dad had always expected me to marry someone with status. Someone with a last name that held weight. But I never cared much about that. I’m rich enough to marry whoever I want without thinking about family names or societal ladders. Sure, marrying up helps the business—but this is still my life. And I’ve already given enough.
Not that this thing with Isabella is some kind of fairytale romance. It’s not. This marriage is convenient. A contract, nothing more. But, somehow, it was exactly what I wanted. She was exactly what I wanted—even if it didn’t make sense. Even if it defied everything I had been taught to value. I couldn’t explain it, but I knew one thing for sure: I would fight for it.
I kept my thoughts tight as I stepped inside. The butler nodded in greeting, taking my coat. I walked into the living room where my father sat, flipping through the latest issue of *Business Empire*.
“Dad,” I greeted.
He glanced up, eyes crinkling behind his glasses. “Hey, son. Come sit.”
I eased into the chair beside him, already anticipating the small talk that would spiral into the usual: market predictions, corporate takeovers, and which CEO won what award this week. Our company had been racking up accolades for efficiency and innovation, both statewide and national. Sure, we’d lost a few to Cardinal Motors—our old rival—but we were still at the top. One of the few billion-dollar giants left with a clean public image.
And soon, I’d be taking the reins again.
We’d expanded into Athens, Cairo, France, China, and London. But I wasn’t done yet. Once I resumed full control, I’d push further. I was already scouting new PR and marketing teams for the Italy launch. I hadn’t told Isabella yet. I wondered how she’d take it. Would she want to come with me, or would she be relieved to have me out of her hair?
“How are you, Dad?” I asked, as we slipped into business and current affairs.
For a man in his sixties, he looked like he had ten fewer years under his belt. All those gym hours paid off. Still fit. Still sharp. Still the kind of man women stared at when he entered a room.
I’d once asked him why he never remarried after my mother left. He just smiled and said, “Too many beautiful women to choose from. Why settle for one?”
At the time, I hadn’t understood. I was a kid. But now, as a man, I saw it differently. Losing the love of your life does something to you. Deep down and all the way to the surface, you start to believe love’s just a game you play with rules you never made. Consciously or not, he gave up on love. Settled for charm. For image. I always thought I’d be different… But lately, I was starting to wonder.
When I brought home my first girlfriend at eighteen, he gave her a glance and said, “Good taste, Levi. But there are thousands more out there.”
I was furious. Selena wasn’t a model, but she was sweet. She had a quirky laugh, freckles on her cheeks, and lips that tasted like strawberries. We were happy. Bonfires, beach races, late-night chess. Two years of that.
Then I left for college. We ended things. Amicably. Distance strips the romance out of everything.
Still, I never forgot how easily he’d dismissed her. And now... I had to bring up Isabella.
This was going to go badly.
But I wasn’t here for his blessing—just his signature on the merger documents.
He wanted me married. Fine. But he didn’t get to choose who.
“You’ve got good taste in ties,” he said suddenly, eyeing my navy silk.
“Thanks.” I paused, then took the leap. “There’s someone else. I’m not marrying Jenna.”
That got his attention. His glasses dropped to the armrest. The magazine followed.
“What does that mean?” he asked. “You want to marry two women now?”
I shook my head. “No. Jenna and I are over. She was seeing someone else. I found out. End of story.”
His eyes narrowed. “Was it someone we know?”
Yes. Very well, in fact. But I wasn’t about to feed that fire.
“That part’s not important.”
He stared at me, like he couldn’t quite compute it. “You don’t make decisions like this on a whim.”
“This isn’t a whim.” I checked my watch. I had to go—Isabella was waiting, and I had a meeting in under an hour. “Her name’s Isabella. I’ll bring her by tomorrow. We’re getting married next weekend. The marriage license is still valid, and I’m not delaying it.”
He blinked.
I stood.
He didn’t say anything—just sat there, the silence thick around him, trying to figure out where exactly I went wrong.
Let him sit with it.
As I walked out, I could feel his eyes drilling into my back—filled with disbelief, maybe even disappointment. My father, the man who never once settled for one woman, was suddenly disturbed because I had changed brides.
It was laughable, really.
He didn’t know me as a player. Never had. I wasn’t the type to juggle women, to string hearts along just for sport. If I liked someone, I stuck around. I tried. I committed—until it stopped working. I never paraded mistresses at company galas or juggled models at the yacht club. Sure, I dated. Casually. But when I was in, I was in.
Jenna had been a strategic choice. Beautiful, yes. Poised. But more importantly, the daughter of a man my father admired—another corporate heavyweight with a string of factories and an old-money legacy. Our last names belonged in the same headlines. Dad was thrilled when I agreed to the match, though he’d never admit he was the one who arranged it behind the scenes.
He liked to think it had been my idea.
But now that it was off the table, I could practically hear the gears grinding in his head. I imagined him running calculations in silence—projected mergers, handshake deals, future acquisitions—now gone. Not because Jenna was gone. But because the leverage she represented had vanished with her.
I left him there to stew in his thoughts. There wouldn’t be a follow-up conversation. He’d made marriage a condition of signing over control of the company, and I’d fulfilled that part. Just not the way he wanted.
After the accident, he’d gotten sentimental. Claimed he’d realized what really mattered. Family. Legacy. A grandchild. Not just a company bearing our name, but someone to carry the bloodline forward.
Fine. I was getting married.
But a grandchild?
I wasn’t so sure.
Would Isabella even let me touch her?
Would she keep me at arm’s length for the rest of our lives? Or was there a version of this where she let me in?
I didn’t know.