Chapter twenty two: The marriage plan

Andrew’s POV

The house was dead quiet when I walked in.

That kind of silence that didn’t mean peace — it meant something was wrong.

I climbed the stairs to my father’s study, my shoes echoing against the marble. The door was half open. Blood pooled on the floor like spilled ink, dark and sticky.

“Andrew…”

Eleanore’s trembling voice made my jaw tighten. Her hair was tangled, a patch of it missing from her scalp, blood running down her cheek.

“What the fuck happened?” I growled.

“It’s nothing,” she whispered, clutching her arm. “Why are you here?”

I scoffed. “Why am I here? You think I can just sit back while he keeps doing this?”

Few days after my mother’s suicide, Eleanore was brought into the house. My father’s new obsession. My mother’s replacement. My stepmother. And his new punching bag. Every time I tried to help, she’d push me away, muttering “Don’t make it worse.”

Then came the twins. Fragile, quiet things that looked at me like I was their savior. They were the only reason I hadn’t slit my father’s throat in his sleep.

“I want to get custody of the kids,” I muttered. “They deserve better.”

“You’re not a direct relative, Andrew,” she said, tears spilling. “You’ll lose. Please… don’t do something that makes it worse for them. For me.”

I turned away before her broken voice could dig deeper into the part of me I tried to bury.

“Where is he?”

“In the attic.”

I walked into the dark attic, that was once a safe place for me and my mum but he was here corrupting it's air.

I found him there, sitting like a king on leather chair, smoking, watching a documentary about wealth dynasties. The bastard.

“Andrew,” he said, like he was greeting an old friend.

“Does it get you off?” I asked quietly.

He tilted his head, amused.

“Preying on people weaker than you?”

He smiled, slow and vile. “It does, actually.”

My fingers twitched. I wanted to rip that smirk off his face.

“I’ll find out what really happened to my mother,” I said, my voice low, trembling with the fury I’d swallowed for years. “And when I do… I’ll end you.”

He laughed. “I’m your father. I made you who you are. You can’t destroy me, son. I’m still the original Mr. Sterling.”

I grabbed a whiskey glass and hurled it at the wall. The shatter echoed.

“I will end you,” I said again.

He didn’t flinch.

“You know the rules of the corporate world, it's all about reputation” he said

I took a deep breaths

“I’ve arranged a marriage for you.”

My breath caught. “A what?”

“A respectable woman. From a respectable family. You’ll meet her at dinner. Date her a few weeks. Propose. It’ll help the company’s image — and if you comply, Eleanore and the twins are yours.”

I froze. Every muscle in my body burned with hate. But beneath it all was something colder. Calculation.

“I am not marrying anyone” I snapped

“Then your precious family will bear the punishment” he said and strolled out

I scoffed, my father always had an ulterior motive, it's time I showed him I was my father's son.

If playing his game meant saving them… maybe it was time to play.

---

The next morning, I was at the office early. My lawyers were waiting in my glass conference room, portfolios spread out.

“We can make a case if we find proof of abuse,” one of them said.

“There’s plenty,” I muttered.

“Physical evidence?”

My silence was answer enough.

“But things are at stake here, if your father's reputation goes down the drain it affects the company, shareholders will pull out and everything goes down the drain" my other lawyer said

“We need to find a loophole, s reason to make him give us custody”

I looked at them and smirked

“I have the perfect plan” I said

When the meeting ended, I stayed in the building long after everyone left. The city lights outside blurred like a watercolor. My head pounded. I needed a distraction — something that didn’t feel like rot.

When I passed the hallway, a faint light came from one of the smaller offices. Lily’s.

She was still working.

Of course she was. The girl was relentless. I leaned on the doorframe and watched her scribble notes, her brows furrowed. Her hair was tied loosely, a few strands falling across her cheek.

“You know, normal people go home when it’s dark,” I said.

She looked up, startled, then smiled. “And let no one have the ‘most dedicated employee’ title? Not a chance.”

Her teasing was light. It chipped at the wall around my chest.

I walked in and leaned against her desk. “You’re working on the shareholder reports?”

“Trying to, yes,” she said, then glanced at the bottle in my hand. “Is that whiskey?”

I lifted it slightly. “Liquid therapy.”

Her eyes softened. “Rough day?”

“Something like that.” I sank into the chair across from her and sighed. “My father believes money buys loyalty. Even family.”

She was quiet for a moment, then said, “Some people don’t deserve the title of family.”

I looked at her — really looked. There was pain behind her calm voice, an echo of something familiar.

“Yeah,” I murmured. “Some people don’t.”

Silence stretched between us, heavy but comforting.

“Want some?” I asked, holding the bottle toward her.

She hesitated, then nodded. “Just a little. I don’t want to end up drunk with my boss.“

I poured two glasses and slid one to her. Our fingers brushed. Something strange passed between us — warmth, quiet understanding.

We sat there, the night pressing against the glass walls, the city humming below.

She took a sip, winced, and smiled. “You drink this for fun?”

I almost laughed. “No. To forget.”

She leaned back, eyes on the skyline. “You can’t forget what shapes you. You just learn to breathe through it.”

Her words hit harder than they should have.

I watched her for a long time — her reflection in the glass, the faint smile on her lips, the flicker of light in her eyes.

Maybe I was drunk already. Or maybe, for the first time in years, I felt something other than hate.

She raised her glass toward me. “To breathing through it.”

I raised mine. “To surviving it.”

The glasses clinked softly.

And for a moment, the world outside the window didn’t feel so cruel.

***