Chapter 10 - Leverage

"Marry me.”

The words left my mouth exactly as I intended—steady, deliberate, stripped of even the faintest hesitation.

What I received in return was silence.

His eyes narrowed, sharp and assessing, as though he were deciding whether I had finally lost my mind—or had simply grown reckless enough to test him.

Then—

“Hahaha.”

A low, disbelieving laugh escaped him. He shook his head slowly, lips curling as if I had just delivered the most ridiculous joke of the century. His gaze slid away from me, dismissive, already done with the conversation.

“I don’t have time for this absurdity,” he muttered—more to himself than to me—as he pushed his chair back and began to stand.

“A marriage on paper only.”

I spoke before he could fully rise.

My voice was calm, controlled—loud enough for him to hear, soft enough to remain ours alone. It helped that he had chosen the farthest corner of the café, tucked away from wandering eyes and curious ears. Privacy suited conversations like this.

He paused.

Internally, I smiled.

“Holt Corporation’s shares have plummeted more than once, because of your father's indecisiveness in naming his heir” I continued, lifting my gaze to meet his now-intent stare. “Yes, it recovered—on the surface. But its long-term performance has been deteriorating steadily.”

I watched as his jaw tightened, the smallest crack forming in his composure.

“I know how hard you’ve worked to please your father,” I said evenly. “So hard that you even followed in his footsteps—becoming Savannah City’s most notorious playboy.”

I leaned back into my chair, unhurried, composed—certain now that I had his attention.

“Just like him.”

“But what if I tell you,” I continued, my tone precise and unyielding, “that aside from doing exactly what your father does best, there’s another way. A far more effective way to earn his favor.”

His eyes sharpened, calculating.

“Holt Corporation is your father’s pride,” I said. “Well—aside from the women perpetually on his arm. Including your mother.”

I didn’t look away.

I knew more than enough about Zandrie Wallace—Jefferson Holt’s illegitimate son, raised beneath a powerful surname he was never fully allowed to claim.

He had grown up competing with six other sons from six different women. While his half-brothers groomed themselves as heirs to the massive conglomerate, Zandrie chose the easier mask—the careless charm, the endless parties, the reputation of a charming wastrel. A role his father tolerated… even encouraged.

“And whoever brings Holt Corporation to greater heights,” I added softly, “will gain an undeniable edge. One your half-brothers won’t be able to challenge easily.”

I let the words settle before delivering the next strike.

“You’ll even make your mother happy,” I said with a faint smile. “By finally earning your father’s approval.”

Silence stretched between us—thick, charged, dangerous.

“Holt Corporation will be within your grasp,” I continued, lightly drumming my fingers against the tabletop, “and Wallace Plantation Ltd. will become indomitable.”

His gaze darkened.

“Endless cash flow,” I added smoothly. “Different women to warm your bed. Every privilege you can imagine.”

My smile turned ominous.

“All you have to do is make me your wife.”

Then my expression softened—sweet, almost gentle.

“On paper only,” I clarified calmly. “Strictly within our legal agreement. I will be your loving, devoted wife in the eyes of the world.”

I glanced down and lightly gestured toward my six-month-old baby bump.

“And you,” I continued, “will be the loving father to your so-called son.”

I lifted my eyes back to his.

“But in private?” I finished quietly. “We owe each other nothing. You have no obligation to me—nor to my child.”

I let the silence settle again. Heavy with promise. And leverage.

“Who are you?” he asked at last. “You investigated me?”

The sharpness in his tone was unmistakable as he pinned me with an ominous, cutting gaze.

“Cassidy Greene,” I replied calmly. “Like you, I am an illegitimate child—and I chose to discard my father’s name.”

I inclined my head slightly in a mock bow.

“Twenty-two years old. Six months pregnant.”

His eyes flicked, briefly, to my stomach before returning to my face.

“I arrived in Savannah City five months ago,” I continued evenly. “And I have one month left before my visa expires. I need a legal reason to stay.”

I held his gaze without flinching.

“And I found you.”

“I won’t insult you by lying,” I added quietly. “I’ve already acquired a considerable fortune through the stock market. I even purchased a decent percentage of Holt Corporation’s shares.”

A soft chuckle escaped me.

“The stock market is my playground,” I said. “I can read it with my eyes closed.”

Then my smile faded.

"But money alone isn’t enough.”

I leaned forward, closing the distance just enough to make the point unavoidable.

“I need your name,” I said plainly. “Not just Wallace— Holt.”

Everything that came with it.

Connections. Influence. Power.

“I need access,” I continued without shame. “I need leverage.”

A slow, knowing smirk curved my lips.

Silence settled between us once more. He didn’t move. Neither did I. Our gazes locked in a tense, wordless standoff.

"I’ll make you worthy of using your father’s name—with dignity,” I added, the weight of the words pressing hard against my chest.

Zandrie Wallace and I were no different.

Two illegitimate children. Two discarded pieces of powerful men’s mistakes. Pathetic, in the same quiet, humiliating way.

And I understood—too well—how fiercely he was fighting himself not to reach for my offer.

“I’ll help you claim your name,” I said, my voice lowering, “so I can finally lose mine.”

A sigh slipped past my lips before I could stop it, the heaviness inside me threatening to spill over.

"It’s exhausting,” I murmured. “Being pathetic.”

I forced a small smile, even as tears burned at the corners of my eyes. I blinked them back quickly. This was not the moment for weakness. Not now.

“So let’s give ourselves a break.”

The words weren’t meant to convince him. They were meant to steady me.

Silence answered anyway.

“Well,” I said lightly as I rose from my seat, “I only have a month left in this city. Think it over.”

I reached into my bag, pulled out a simple card, and slid it across the table toward him.

“Call me,” I said calmly, “when you’ve made your decision.”

I paused, glancing back at him once more.

“A month,” I repeated softly.

Then I gathered my things and stood, my movements unhurried, deliberate. Each step away from the table was measured, certain.

“Cassidy Greene…”

His voice stopped me. A slow smirk curved my lips as I heard him say my name.

****tbc****