CHAPTER 3.

Sebastian’s POV.

The silence in my office was usually my ally. Tonight, it felt like the calm before a slaughter.

I sat at my mahogany desk, the city sprawled out beneath the floor-to-ceiling windows, oblivious to the fact that my empire was burning. I was reviewing the quarterly projections when the private line on my desk rang.

Only three people had that number. None of them called for social chats.

I picked it up. "Speak."

"Sebastian." It was Marcus, my chief legal counsel. His voice, usually steady as granite, was trembling. "You need to check your email. The Board just concluded an emergency session."

My grip tightened on the receiver. "What session? I didn't authorize a meeting."

"Your father called it. He used his veto power as Chairman." Marcus paused, the silence heavy. "He’s triggered the succession clause, Sebastian. He’s handed operational control to your stepbrother.”

The mention of my stepbrother hit me like a physical blow. My stepbrother? A man who treated business like a casino and loyalty like a joke.

"On what grounds?" I asked, my voice dangerously low.

"The marriage clause," Marcus whispered. "The ultimatum expired at midnight. Since you remain unmarried, your father argued you were unstable and uncommitted to the family legacy. The Board voted in his favor. It’s done."

I hung up the phone without a word.

I didn't yell. I didn't throw the expensive crystal tumbler across the room. I simply stared at the reflection in the window.

My mother built Knight Enterprises from the ground up. She had sacrificed her health, her sanity, and eventually her life for this company. And now, my father was handing it to his new wife’s son—a parasite who had already been caught dining with our biggest competitors.

He wouldn't run the company. He would chop it up and sell it for parts to fund his gambling debts.

I stood up, buttoning my suit jacket. The cold fury settling in my chest was familiar. It was the only thing that kept me focused.

My father thought he had checkmated me. He forgot that I didn't play by the rules.

The drive to the family estate took forty minutes. I made it in twenty.

I bypassed the security detail and stormed straight into the east wing. I found my father in the library, a room that smelled of old paper and arrogance. He was sipping brandy, looking at a ledger with a satisfied smirk.

"You’re early," he said, not bothering to look up. "I expected you to take a few days to lick your wounds."

"You made a mistake," I said, my voice cutting through the room like a razor.

He finally looked at me, his eyes hard. "I made a business decision. You had a deadline. You missed it. Your brother, however, obeyed and got married. He shows stability. He is ready."

"Stability?" I stepped closer, planting my hands on his desk. "He is in debt to half the bookies in Vegas. He’s been in talks with the arch-rivals for weeks. You didn't appoint a successor, Father. You appointed an executioner. He will sell Mother’s legacy before the ink is dry."

"That is enough!" My father slammed his glass down, brandy splashing onto the wood. "Do not speak of your brother that way. He stepped up while you played games! If you wanted the chair, you should have followed the one condition I gave you."

He leaned back, his expression turning smug. "But you’re too stubborn. Too independent. You’d rather lose everything than share your life with a wife."

"And who told you I haven't found one?"

The lie slipped out before I could stop it. It was smooth, cold, and dangerous.

My father froze. He narrowed his eyes, studying my face for a twitch, a blink, any sign of deceit. "Excuse me?"

"I said," I continued, forcing my heartbeat to remain steady, "who told you I wasn't married?"

He laughed, a dry, barking sound. "Don't insult my intelligence, Sebastian. If you were married, it would be in the papers. You think I’ll believe you found a bride in secret?"

"I value my privacy," I countered, leaning back and crossing my arms. "And hers. We signed the papers privately to avoid a media circus. I was planning to introduce her to the family at the gala next week. But given your… impatience… I suppose I’ll have to accelerate the timeline."

The room went silent. My father studied me, his eyes searching for the bluff. I held his gaze, channeling every ounce of confidence I possessed.

"Fine," he said softly.

He checked his watch. "It is 2:00 PM. Dinner is at 8:00 PM. Bring her here. If she is real, and if the marriage certificate is valid, I will call for a vote of no confidence against your brother and reinstate you by morning."

He smiled, a cruel twisting of lips. " But if you show up alone, or if I sense this is a paid actress… You will be stripped of your shares and escorted off the property by security. Permanently."

"I'll see you at eight," I said.

I turned and walked out, my stride even, my face a mask of calm.

The moment I reached my car, the mask dropped. I slammed the door and gripped the steering wheel so hard the leather creaked.

I had six hours.

Six hours to produce a wife, or lose everything my mother had died for.

I snatched my phone and dialed the number I had been avoiding for weeks. It rang once. Twice.

"Mr. Knight?" The voice on the other end was tentative. Mr. Reed.

"The timeline has changed," I said, skipping the pleasantries.

"I… excuse me?"

"Your daughter," I snapped, starting the engine. "Isabella. The wedding isn't this weekend. It’s tonight."

"Mr. Knight, that’s impossible," Reed stammered, panic seeping into his tone. "We—we aren't ready. Isabella isn't—"

"I don't care," I interrupted, my voice dropping to a lethal growl. "Your company is currently leveraged entirely on my capital. If you want to keep your business, and your home, you will have Isabella come to my estate at 5pm. And then we head to the City Registrar’s office to sign the papers.”

"But—"

"Fail to deliver her," I said, "and I pull the funding by sunrise. You will be bankrupt before you finish your morning coffee. Do you understand?"

I didn't wait for an answer. I hung up and threw the phone onto the passenger seat.

I reversed the car, tires screeching against the gravel.

I needed a wife. And whether they are ready or not, Isabella Reed would show up at my place exactly at 5pm.