Chapter 3

The elevator doors slid open at 8:02 a.m. and he stepped out, already loosening his tie, the penthouse quiet and too big for just one person. He’d come home early. Or late. Depends how you looked at it. He hadn’t slept. Hadn’t even tried.

He dropped his keys on the marble counter with a loud clatter. “I’m back.”

Silence.

Then voices. Coming from the living room.

He froze. No one comes here. No one. Not without him knowing. Not without him letting them.

He walked forward, and stopped in the doorway.

His father stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, hands behind his back, back straight like he was still in some boardroom.

His mother sat on the leather sofa, perfectly dressed, hands folded in her lap like she was waiting for tea. And in the armchair — his grandfather. The kind of man who didn’t need to speak to command the whole room.

They were here. In his home. Uninvited.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he said. His voice was low, rough, like gravel.

His father turned. No smile. “We’ve been waiting an hour. You’re never home before nine. We thought you’d be here.”

“This is my home.” He stepped further into the room, his every muscle coiled. “And you didn’t call. Didn’t text. Just showed up like I’m still some kid you can check up on whenever you want.”

“We need to talk,” his grandfather said. His voice was thin but it cut through the air like a knife. “Sit down.”

“I’m not sitting down. Just say what you came to say and leave.”

His mother sighed, soft but firm. “Please. Don’t be difficult. This is important.”

His father walked over, stopped right in front of him, eyes hard. “Grayson Holdings needs a new president. The board voted last week. You’re next in line. Everyone knows it. Everyone wants it. But the rules haven’t changed.”

“And what rules are those?”

“The president must be married.” His grandfather leaned forward. “And have a family. A wife. A child. A proper household. Not… whatever this is. The company needs stability. It needs a face. A family man. Not a bachelor who stays out all night and comes home at eight in the morning.”

He laughed. “That’s ridiculous. I’ve run three divisions already. I doubled the revenue last year. I don’t need a wife to run a company. I can handle it. Alone.”

Because after all, he is Hayes Gabriel Dela Cruz Grayson, a self-made billionaire.

“You can’t.” His father’s voice dropped. “If you don’t meet the requirements within six months — married, on paper, public — the position goes to Lourd.”

Hayes stilled. “Lourd?”

“Your cousin.” His grandfather nodded. “He’s already married. He has two children. He has the family name and the image. The board loves him. If you’re not in place properly by the end of the year… it’s his. Not yours.”

The room went quiet. Too quiet. Hayes felt it in his chest hot, tight, angry. They were threatening him with his own birthright. Their own blood.

“That’s not fair,” he said. “It’s my legacy. And you’re giving it to Lourd just because I’m not married?”

“It’s not about you.” His mother stood up. “It’s about the company. It’s about the name. Grayson Holdings is bigger than you. Bigger than any of us. And the president must reflect the values this family was built on. Respectability. Stability. Lineage.”

“So marry someone. Anyone.” His father shrugged like it was that easy. “We’ll find her. A good family. Educated. Proper. We’ve already started looking. We have a list —”

“No.”

The word came out before he could stop it.

“No?” His grandfather raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“I said no.” Hayes stepped back, ran a hand through his hair. “I won’t marry some girl you picked out. Some rich princess who doesn’t even know what it’s like to work for anything. I won’t do it.”

“Then you lose the company.” His grandfather sat back, calm like he was discussing the weather. “Simple as that. Lourd is ready. His wife is ready. His children are ready. The board is ready. It’s your choice, Hayes. Wife or nothing.”

They stood there for a long minute, staring at each other — three generations of cold, wealthy silence.

“We’ll send you the profiles,” his father said, turning toward the door. “Look at them. Pick one. Or we pick for you. But by the end of the month, there better be a ring on someone’s finger. Or don’t bother coming to the office anymore.”

His mother walked past him, paused, and touched his arm. “Don’t be stubborn, Hayes. This is for the best.”

And then they were gone. The elevator doors clicked shut. The penthouse fell silent again.

Hayes stood there alone. In his huge, expensive, empty home. He walked to the window, looked down at the city spread out below him all of it his. All of it waiting. And he was about to lose it because he didn’t have a wife.

A wife.

He scoffed. Ran a hand over his face. He didn’t want a wife. He didn’t want a family. He didn’t want any of it.

But then — her face flashed in his mind.

Standing in that club last night. Scared. Tired. But still looking at him like she knew him. Like she remembered.

He’d found her. After three years. He’d finally found her. And she was exactly where he’d left her, in the dark, in the noise, selling herself to survive.

Fucking prostitute.

The thought burned through him, hot, angry, something else he wouldn’t name. She was still there. Still doing it. Still letting strangers touch her when she’d once let him.

He shook his head hard. But the image wouldn’t leave. Her face. Her eyes. The way she’d looked at him like he was her only hope.

She needs money. I need a wife.

The thought hit him so hard he actually flinched.

It was perfect. Too perfect.

She had no one. No family. No status. No one would ask questions. No one would care. She’d sign whatever he said. She’d do anything for the money.

And she wouldn’t ask for his heart. She wouldn’t expect love. She knew the deal. She’d been doing it her whole life.

He pulled out his phone, already dialing. His voice was steady, cold, decided.

“Find her,” he said when his assistant picked up. “Ysa Sandoval. I don’t care where she is. I don’t care what she’s doing. Bring her to me. Now.”

He hung up. Stared at his reflection in the glass — sharp suit, dark eyes, heir to Grayson Holdings. Billionaire. Powerful. About to marry the only woman who’d ever made him feel something other than cold.

And she had no idea what was coming.