CHAPTER 106

I'LL ACCEPT...

The morning air in the Vandell estate carried a strange heaviness, as though the walls themselves sensed the storm that was quietly forming. Abigail sat at the breakfast table, a porcelain teacup between her fingers, though the tea inside had long grown cold. Across from her, Luke read through the day’s reports, his posture rigid, his silence speaking louder than words.

Ever since he had confronted her about Oscar Dixon, there had been an invisible thread of tension tying them together, pulling tight whenever their eyes met. Abigail wanted to bridge the space, but Luke’s mood had closed him off again, making him colder, distant  though she caught the flash of something warmer in his eyes when he thought she wasn’t looking.

The quiet broke when Thomas, Luke’s head butler, entered with a tablet in his hand. He bowed slightly before addressing Luke.

“Sir, the Dixon family’s representatives have just sent over a proposal,” he said smoothly. “They are requesting a meeting this afternoon. It appears Oscar Dixon is spearheading the project himself.”

Luke’s head lifted slowly, his eyes narrowing. “Oscar Dixon?” His tone dripped with suspicion.

“Yes, sir. It seems he is interested in a partnership involving real estate expansions across the central business district. The terms… on first glance, they are favorable.”

Luke set his coffee cup down with a soft but firm thud. Abigail felt the weight of his stare as it shifted briefly to her before returning to Thomas.

“Arrange the meeting,” Luke said curtly. “I want to hear directly what Dixon is playing at.”

Abigail’s heart thudded uncomfortably. She knew Oscar’s interest wasn’t just business. His eyes had said as much when he stopped Obetta weeks ago, and again at the mall. There was something deliberate about his sudden closeness to their world.

By afternoon, the meeting room inside Vandell Enterprises gleamed with polished mahogany tables, floor-to-ceiling glass panels overlooking the city, and the quiet hum of wealth and power. Luke sat at the head of the table, his presence commanding as ever, while Abigail, dressed in a soft cream dress, Luke had picked for her weeks ago, sat slightly to his right. She hadn’t planned on attending, but Luke had asked her to come  more as a silent presence than a participant.

The doors opened, and Oscar Dixon walked in with the confidence of someone who never questioned his place in a room. His sandy brown hair caught the sunlight, his athletic frame dressed in a dark tailored suit that fit like a second skin. Hazel eyes swept across the room, resting briefly  too briefly on Luke, before landing on Abigail.

That gaze lingered.

Luke noticed. His jaw tightened, his fingers drumming once against the armrest of his chair before he stilled.

“Mr. Vandell,” Oscar greeted smoothly, extending his hand. “Thank you for granting me your time.”

Luke shook it with controlled precision, his grip firm, his expression unreadable. “Mr. Dixon. Let’s hear what you’ve brought me.”

They sat, papers were exchanged, and Oscar began his pitch. He spoke with ease, outlining the proposed development  luxury high-rise apartments with an integrated shopping complex. The profits were promising, the location prime, and the Dixon family had the resources to execute quickly.

But as Oscar spoke, his eyes strayed more than once to Abigail.

Luke noticed every flicker, every stolen glance.

“Your numbers are clean,” Luke finally said, his tone cool. “And the deal looks… competent. But that doesn’t answer the question of why me. You’ve built your family’s empire without ever needing Vandell Enterprises.”

Oscar leaned back in his chair, his smile slow, deliberate. “Because this project deserves the best. And frankly, your reputation precedes you. I want Vandell Enterprises not just as a partner, but as a name attached to the kind of project that will stand for decades.”

Luke didn’t flinch, but his eyes were sharp. “Flattery doesn’t buy my signature.”

Oscar chuckled lightly, then folded his hands on the table. “Then allow me to be more specific. This project has a unique target demographic young professionals, new families, people who aspire to luxury but want a personal touch. That’s why I propose that Mrs. Vandell herself oversee the supervision of the project on your behalf.”

The room fell silent.

Abigail’s eyes widened slightly. She hadn’t expected to be pulled into this. Luke’s head turned toward her sharply, then back to Oscar, his expression darkening like a brewing storm.

“You want my wife to supervise your project?” Luke’s voice was calm, but it carried the weight of ice.

Oscar’s smile didn’t falter. “Not just my project  our project, if you agree. Who better than Mrs. Vandell? She has the grace, the presence, the intuitive understanding of people that could shape this into more than just numbers on paper. This isn’t just construction, Mr. Vandell, It’s image. And Mrs. Vandell represents the very thing this project stands for.”

Abigail’s heart pounded. She wanted to speak, to say she hadn’t agreed to anything, but the atmosphere between the two men felt like a taut wire, one wrong word and it would snap.

Luke leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table, his eyes locked on Oscar like a predator. “You think dragging my wife into this will make me trust you more?”

Oscar tilted his head. “Not trust, Mr. Vandell. Vision. Sometimes, fresh eyes bring a new kind of brilliance. I’ve seen the way she carries herself. She is not merely a wife. She’s a presence. And this project would benefit from that.”

Luke’s gaze flicked toward Abigail, and for a heartbeat, she thought he might reject the entire deal just to shut Oscar down. But then, slowly, his lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

“You presume a lot, Dixon,” he said softly. “But presumption doesn’t scare me. If you want her on this, it won’t be because you asked. It’ll be because I allow it.”

Abigail’s chest tightened. The air in the room felt thick, suffocating with unspoken challenges. Oscar inclined his head respectfully, though the gleam in his eyes betrayed satisfaction.

“Of course,” he said smoothly. “Then I will await your decision.”

The meeting ended shortly after, but the tension did not leave with it.

As the doors closed behind Oscar, Luke sat in silence for a long while, his eyes fixed on the polished wood of the table. Abigail shifted nervously, her hands twisting in her lap.

“Luke…” she began softly.

His eyes snapped to hers, dark and unreadable. “Do not mistake this, Abigail. Dixon doesn’t want a project. He wants proximity. To you.”

Her throat tightened. She whispered, “Then say no. Refuse the deal.”

Luke leaned back in his chair, studying her as if weighing the truth in her words. Finally, he exhaled, long and slow.

“No,” he said. “I’ll accept.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “What? Why?”

“Because sometimes, the best way to kill a snake is not to run from it,” Luke replied quietly, his gaze burning. “It’s to bring it close, watch every move, and strike when it shows its fangs.”

Abigail shivered at the intensity in his tone.

She wanted to argue, to plead with him to reconsider, but deep down she knew Luke wasn’t a man who backed down once his mind was set. And so, she nodded faintly, though unease coiled deep in her stomach.

That night, long after the house had gone quiet, Abigail lay awake beside him, her thoughts tangled. Oscar Dixon had entered their world not with force, but with strategy. And now, by Luke’s choice, he was drawing even closer.