Ch68 - Lost granddaughter

Josef couldn’t even bring himself to look at them. He let go of the door and strode straight through the workshop toward the back of the house, into the kitchen. With a curt flick of his hand, he signaled Violet to follow.

Laurent, of course, wasn’t having a stomach ache. It was simply the excuse Claire came up with so the three of them could get inside Josef’s home. But Laurent understood perfectly; taking the hint, he slipped into the bathroom to play along.

While he hid in there, Matteo wandered around, bored out of his skull. His eyes drifted briefly over the assortment of parts displayed in the front glass cabinet, then moved on—he’d been here so many times, yet he had never bothered to actually look at anything inside. 

Claire stepped up beside him and murmured, “DON’T forget why we’re here.”

“I know, I know. Get Grandpa back in a good mood. I get it,” Matteo replied, utterly careless.

Claire frowned. “I’m serious. This isn’t only about your father’s future—it’s about yours too. If you can’t sweet-talk your grandfather, we’ll be left out in the cold. And those sports cars and yachts of yours? Forget about keeping them.”

The mention of his beloved toys wiped the lazy expression off Matteo’s face. Horror spread. “Wait, it’s that serious? No, no, no, nobody touches my babies.”

“Then you’d better figure out how to get us all to stay,” she said sharply.

Matteo pulled a face. “Mom, did you not see HOW terrifying Grandpa was just now? Can’t we come back tomorrow? He’s furious—he won’t listen to anything.”

"You want your toys or not? Then no matter what it takes, we're staying today. At least through dinner. We are not walking out now. You can throw a tantrum, throw yourself on the floor, roll around—whatever works. Succeed, and I’ll raise your allowance. How about that?” Claire said, a mix of coaxing and bribery.

His shoulders sagged. He knew he had no choice. “Fine… fine.”

Ten minutes later, Laurent finally emerged from the bathroom. Josef heard the sound but didn’t bother turning around. From inside the kitchen, he called flatly, “When your whole family leaves, remember to shut the door.”

Matteo caught his mother’s signal instantly and darted into the kitchen. “Grandpa, do you have anything to eat? I’m starving to death.”

Josef ignored him completely. Matteo shifted target, swiveling toward Violet. “Hi. I’m Matteo. And you?”

Josef reacted at once—like swatting away a fly. “OUT. Don’t get in the way while we’re cooking.”

The faint smile that had just appeared on his face was now gone.

“Grandpa, I'm your own grandson, for crying out loud, and you won’t even look at me.” Matteo, who had already grown to 1.8 meters, with his large frame, was whining at Josef.

Violet felt a flicker of awkwardness. She offered him a plate of sliced baguette. “If you don’t mind… you can have some of this.”

Matteo wasn’t actually hungry, and he had zero interest in dry bread. He wrinkled his nose but took a piece anyway, pretending to chew as he stuck to Josef again.

“What are you cooking? Smells amazing.”

“Zürcher Geschnetzeltes. And as I recall, you don’t even like this sort of thing. Besides, I only made enough for three today—not for you.” Josef lifted the heavy pot off the stove. He had started simmering the beef shoulder four hours ago.

"What do you mean I don't like it? I LOVE your cooking! Especially your homemade cheese fondue, dipped with little steamed potatoes, the thick, explosion of golden cheese covering it—it’s a feast for the taste buds…” Matteo went on and on.

Josef shot him a long, unimpressed look.

Out in the living room, Claire nudged her husband again. The signal was obvious.

“DAD,” Laurent called from the doorway, “I think I’m really not feeling well. Maybe we should rest here for a while.”

Josef understood perfectly what they were trying to do—and he was tired of their antics.

“All right, all right. Stay for dinner. But let me make this clear—the food wasn’t prepared for you. No complaining about what’s on the table. And once you finish eating, you leave. I won’t say it twice.”

“Yes, of course, thank you, we’ll just trouble you here then,” Claire said, laying it on thick.

Inside the kitchen, Matteo’s large frame made the space feel even smaller. Josef gave him a light kick. 

“Get out of here. You’re in the way.”

Matteo jogged out cheerfully, throwing his mother a triumphant little wink on the way. The three of them were barred from the kitchen, so they sat in the living room scrolling through their phones to pass the time. 

But Claire stayed alert, neck craning every so often toward the kitchen even though she knew the island blocked the view. She couldn’t stop herself—she desperately wanted to know what was happening inside.

Laurent, eyes glued to his screen, reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “You’re tired. Rest a little.”

Tired wasn’t the word. Claire was the only one in this family who knew the truth—all of it.

She had known for years that Josef’s runaway daughter, the one who eloped with that man, had given birth to a child. And that later, after an accident, the woman died… and supposedly, the child died with her.

But Claire had looked deeper. And found out the child had survived.

To keep Josef from discovering it, she had pulled strings, swapped medical files, and had a similar-aged deceased child recorded in her place. Josef, who had never seen the real granddaughter’s face, had believed the lie without question.

Once she had deceived Josef, she tried to have the child quietly dealt with, but the girl had already been sent to an orphanage—too public, too messy to intervene. Later came the news she had been adopted. By whom, and to where… Claire had no clue.

At the time, her son was sick and the workshop business consumed every waking hour. She eventually stopped tracking the girl’s whereabouts. Only in recent years, when she realized Josef still hadn’t given up searching for his granddaughter, did her fury return.

WHAT? He wants to find that girl so he can take away what should rightfully go to Matteo?

Why search the ocean for a ghost of the past when she could to focus on securing and leveraging Josef's trust for her own husband?

If Josef cared enough about their family—after all these years—then even if that lost granddaughter resurfaced, why would he hand the company to an outsider instead of the family who had been by his side?

But plans rarely unfold cleanly. Their years of Christmas “companionship” had failed to soften Josef’s heart. And two months ago, thanks to Laurent’s big mouth, they had been cast out entirely—exiled from Josef’s good graces.

Claire was furious, but until Josef agreed to let Laurent run the company, her nerves would remain stretched tight. She knew him too well—Josef would rather donate every last share than leave his life’s work in the hands of someone he despised. 

So today she had dragged her husband and son along to apologize, hoping Josef would finally cool off. Once they had control of the company, wealth and power would follow naturally.

Knowing Josef despised strangers in his house, they hadn’t brought anyone. They drove themselves. She had expected Josef’s dark face—he was never easy to charm—but she hadn’t expected… her.

The girl who looked so much like Josef’s lost granddaughter.

The girl inside the house looked uncannily like Josef’s deceased daughter as well. Claire desperately hoped she was mistaken—what was the name of Josef’s granddaughter again? A headache pulsed behind her eyes. She couldn’t remember…

But Josef had called the girl a “guest.”

That meant she wasn’t necessarily his granddaughter. Things couldn’t be that coincidental. Claire forced her heartbeat to settle.

Beside her, husband and son remained blissfully ignorant. Laurent, especially, had shown absolutely no reaction to the girl’s face—none—when he should have been the first to notice. Useless, she thought bitterly.

“W–what? Why are you looking at me like that?” Laurent whispered, eyes darting away. “It feels murderous.”

Claire clapped her hands sharply. “Enough sitting around. If he won’t let you in the kitchen, then start setting the table.”

Father and son exchanged a glance of mutual helplessness, then stood up to obey.