Chapter Three

Everette’s pov

“This better be a joke, Dad,” Regan shouts.

Father says nothing as he leads his fiancée towards the couch.

“I have worked my fucking ass off for you,” she continues, following him. “You closed on the tip I brought you. I made you billions. And you’re going to give my title to this… this—”

She searches for the filthiest word available.

“—pussy bitch?”

Angela’s lips twitch, not offended but amused, a movement I know will probably make my sister even more mad.

I grab her arms before she lunges.

“Really, Dad?” I say, tightening my grip on her wrist. “That title belongs to Regan. She worked for it.”

“She will remain in International Affairs,” Father replies coolly. “She isn’t there yet.”

“She proved herself,” I snap. “You made her jump through hoops for this and she has cleared every one so far .”

“I worked fucking hard for this!” My sister shouts as she pulls away from me, shoving a crystal decanter off the desk.

It shatters against the marble floor.

“And I’m not going to give it to a child who still has a lot to learn,” Father says.

“She’s almost twenty five,” I fire back. “You took over from grandfather at that age.”

“She isn’t ready. Not with her tantrums.”

“Tantrums?” She steps toward him slowly. “Oh, you’re going to see tantrums.”

For a second, I think she might actually hit him in the face. Instead she turns sharply and walks toward the door, slamming it behind her.

“If you keep pushing her this hard,” I say quietly, “you will either push her away or push her to do something reckless.”

Father scoffs. “What do you know about pushing hard?” he asks. “If not for me, you will still be somewhere out there in Africa probably building houses for the poor in the name of charity. Now look at you. CEO of your own billion dollar tech company before thirty.”

The words land heavy.

If not for him…….He always rewrites history like that to make it suit him.

If not for him I would probably be happy running my charities and all the other things I had always wanted to do, but instead I’m running a billion dollar company I have no interest in, ended up destroying the relationship with the one man I had ever loved.

“I know what’s best for her.”

Of course he does. He always knows what’s best for everyone. I shake my head and turn towards the door.

“Wait, son.”

I hesitate. He rarely uses that word with softness.

“This isn’t how I planned this,” he says. “We should be celebrating. I wanted you and your sister back under the same roof, where you belong and to celebrate this moment with me. Nobody is the enemy here, your sister should understand that.”

Nobody is the enemy…….In this house, everyone is.

“I’ll talk to her,” I say flatly.

Outside the office, Regan is pacing like a caged predator.

“What did he say?”

“Still thinks you aren’t ready.”

“The fucker,” she mutters, raking a hand through her hair. “I know what this is. He’s afraid. Afraid I’m more like him than he thinks. Afraid I’ll take the Carrington dynasty to the next level, so he tries to stump me down.”

I roll my eyes, trust her to make everything sound dramatic. “He isn’t trying to stump you, Ree.”

“Eve.”

A voice calls from behind me and I turn, with a smile on my face. Jacques walks toward me from across the hallway, his muscular body fitted in a polo and sweatpants, his dark curls falling perfectly over his forehead.

He reaches me, leans down and kisses me softly. “I have an errand to run, I’ll be right back.” He looks towards Regan. “This must be your sister. Welcome back.”

He extends his hand politely but she draws her arm back dramatically. “Who are you,” she says coolly, “and when did we start letting in charity cases?”

I chuckle. “Regan, be nice.”

She arches a brow.

“Just go, babe,” I murmur to Jacques. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

He kisses me again and leaves without protest.

I turn back to my sister.

“Well, look at you,” she says. “That’s why you are so unbothered about dad’s engagement. Too busy with your new toy, huh?”

I run a hand through my hair. “He’s my boyfriend.”

“Oh, I’m sure he is.”

I look at my watch. “So, I guess you’re running away again.”

“Running? Hell no. I’m staying back here to take my title from that bitch. No way dad marries her, you know how he is.”

“I don’t know about this one Ree, Dad seems….inlove,” I say carefully. “Why not try to get to know her first? She seems nice. Besides, you’re Regan Carrington, the strongest person I know. You could start your own company if you wanted, you know I will back you all the way.”

“It’s not that simple,” she mutters. “And this is our family’s legacy. You’re lucky you have your own company and you don’t have to deal with all his bullshit.”

I almost laughed. “I deal with it. Speaking of company, I have a press conference and I have to go.” I peck her forehead. “I’ll see you later.”

………….

The conference hall is already filled by the time I arrive. My communications team hovers near the stage, whispering among themselves.

“He isn’t here yet?” I ask quietly.

They exchange glances and one of them shrugs.

I swallow irritation. I was insane to think Raze would treat this like a serious business arrangement. I should have known better than to build part of my recovery strategy around a man who never takes anything seriously.

The doors open behind us and Raze steps in like he choreographed the moment.

He wears a grey shirt tucked into black slacks tailored to his body in a way that feels intentional. His skin is a rich brown, his black hair neatly slicked back away from what one can call a face made for covers of a magazine.

His jaw is cut clean and his mouth rests in that half smile as his dark eyes scan the room once, then land on me and stay there.

I immediately lost my train of thought.

He strides towards me.

“You’re late,” I said the first thing that came to my head, trying to ignore the way my body was reacting.

He gives me a sideways look, his lips twitching with something that feels like mockery. “I’m never late. Shall we?”

We take our seats and I begin the announcement, outlining the strategic collaboration between Carrington Tech and Calder Dynamics. I talk about innovation pipelines, infrastructure expansion, new market penetration across West Africa and Europe. I speak about shared research facilities and long term capital infusion. I keep my tone firm.

The first hand goes up before I finish.

“Mr. Carrington, is this partnership a genuine merger of interests or a distraction from the regulatory inquiry currently facing your company?”

I blink once. “This collaboration has been in discussion for months and is based purely on strategic alignment and technological synergy.”

Another reporter stands.

“Is this collaboration even real, Mr. Carrington, or is Mr. Schmidt simply being used as a public relations shield to restore confidence in a sinking company?”

The word sinking echoes too loudly in my head.

“It’s very real,” I say, and my voice almost betrays me. “We wouldn't be here if it it’s not.”

Another voice. “Mr. Schmidt, are you aware of the financial risk you are taking by associating your tech start up with a company currently under investigation?”

All eyes shift to him.

He has been silent the entire time, leaning back slightly in his chair, his fingers resting loosely against the table as he watches me struggle.

He says nothing and I start to feel panic rising as more questions get thrown at us.

The narrative I carefully constructed dissolves under scrutiny. My responses grow thinner and I almost stammer when someone asks whether this deal is a last desperate attempt to regain board confidence before an emergency vote.

“It’s not desperate,” I say too quickly. “It’s strategic.”

The word cracks at the edge.

Beside me, Raze mutters something under his breath that sounds like a curse. The room grows louder and more aggressive.

“Are you using this partnership to inflate your valuation artificially?”

“Is this collaboration legally binding or merely symbolic?”

My answers blur together. I hear myself speaking but it feels distant. I can sense investors watching, calculating and reassessing their loyalty.

This was supposed to steady the storm.

Instead, it’s feeding it.

Next to me, Raze shifts. “Fuck it,” he mutters.

Before I can ask what he meant, he turns fully toward me, his hand rising to grip my jaw with firm certainty.

And then his mouth crashes into mine.