CHAPTER 002

The faint clink of ice against glass was the only sound in the expansive study, a room draped in dark mahogany and leather. Chase Connor leaned back in his chair, the golden hue of the whiskey swirling in his hand, catching the low glow of the desk lamp. The air was filled with the scent of old books and aged bourbon, grounding him in a space where the memories of his past couldn’t reach; at least, that’s what he told himself.

He took a slow sip, his jaw tightening as memories of his earlier years threatened to surface. Once, this life of luxury had been painted with blood. Leading the Connor gang had been a long battle, one his family had crafted for generations. The last war had changed everything. It had stripped him of many things—trust, his freedom to love freely, and Vera.

He closed his eyes briefly, a haunting image of the fiery-haired woman flashing through his mind. She had been fierce, reckless, and utterly irreplaceable. One of his best shots. When the bullets found her, Chase had made a promise, holding the tiny, wailing infant she'd left behind. He’d named the baby after her—Vera, swearing the child would never be caught in the web that had stolen her mother.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a door creaking open. He glanced up, his steel-grey eyes narrowing slightly as a small figure stepped inside.

"Daddy," the voice was soft yet laced with an unmistakable pout. Seven-year-old Vera stood in the doorway, her curls tousled from what Chase assumed had been an impromptu tantrum. She hugged a stuffed bear tightly to her chest, her lower lip jutting out like a practiced art form.

"What is it now, princess?" Chase set the glass down, the sharp lines of his face softening ever so slightly.

Vera stomped a foot. "Ms. Harper says I need to finish my arithmetic, but it’s boring!" I don’t want to."

"Arithmetic isn’t optional, Vera," he said, his voice calm but firm.

"But you said numbers aren’t everything!"

Chase almost smirked. Her wit was sharper than most adults he knew, and she wielded it like a weapon. He rose from his chair, towering over her small frame as he crossed the room. He crouched to her level, his hand reaching out to gently tip her chin up.

"Numbers might not be everything, but discipline is," he said, his tone gentler now. "Go finish your work, and maybe I’ll let you stay up an extra thirty minutes tonight."

Her green eyes sparkled, the pout dissolving in an instant. "Promise?"

"Promise."

With that, Vera turned on her heel, skipping out of the study as if the tantrum had never happened. Chase exhaled, his lips twitching into a faint smile.

The smile faded when his phone buzzed on the desk. He glanced at the screen, recognizing the number immediately.

♣︎The family meeting:-

The dining room was a testament to old-world grandeur. Crystal chandeliers cast their warm glow over a long, polished oak table, and the scent of cigar smoke lingered in the air. Chase walked in, his presence commanding as his polished shoes clicked against the marble floor.

At the head of the table, Mr. Williams sat in a wheelchair, his once-fit frame now frail but no less intimidating. His eyes, sharp as a hawk’s, followed Chase as he approached. Ethan, Chase’s cousin, stood behind the chair, his expression carefully neutral.

"Chase," the older man rasped, his voice like gravel. "You’re late."

"I’m here, aren’t I?" Chase replied smoothly, sliding into one of the empty chairs.

Ethan stepped forward, pushing their grandfather closer to the table. "He wanted to wait for you."

Chase ignored the comment, his focus solely on the man who had shaped much of his life—both the privilege and the burden.

Mr. Williams’ lips curled into something resembling a smile, though it was more calculating than warm. "You’ve done well for yourself, boy. Built something clean out of the mess we left you."

Chase inclined his head slightly, his jaw tightening. He knew there was more coming.

"But this family isn’t built on businesses and charities. It’s built on power. Legacy. And a man with your name can’t lead without completion. A woman by his side."

There it was, the same demand, wrapped in the guise of tradition. Chase leaned back in his chair, his gaze pointed.

"I’ve already told you, I’m not interested in parading someone around just to fit your mold," he said, his voice cool.

"And I’ve told you," Mr. Williams shot back, his tone as sharp as it could be in his weakened state, "Without a wife, you’ll never be the patron. The position will go to Ethan. He’s ready to take on the responsibility, aren’t you, Ethan?"

Ethan’s brows lifted in mock surprise, though his lips curved in a faint smirk. "If that’s what the family needs."

Chase’s eyes narrowed, briefly catching his cousin's smirk, which meant he only said that to jab him. He could feel the piercing stab of his grandfather’s gaze, the silent accusation hanging in the air.

"Don’t let pride blind you, Chase," Mr. Williams said after a long pause. "The clock’s ticking. You need to produce an heir. That's the only way to get yourself fully secured."

Chase didn’t respond immediately. He simply picked up the glass of water before him, taking a slow sip as his mind churned. When he finally set it down, his voice was low but steady.

"I’ll think about it."

The words were vague, but they were enough for now. As the conversation shifted to other matters, Chase’s thoughts wandered. The walls were closing in, and he had no intention of letting his cousin take what was his.

But finding a wife? That wasn’t part of the plan. At least, not yet. He has Vera, that's enough. Now, he has to get a wife and a son.

Before he left, Ethan had pulled him to a side, concern etching his face.

“I think Grandpa wants you to hurry up and be the patron for a reason.” he swallowed. “Since you left, the Corps have been taking over most of our territories. You can't let Grandpa die heartbroken, knowing his grandson is too busy playing house.”

Chase closed his eyes briefly suppressing his raging outburst. The Old bastard would do anything to drag him back into the world he has nothing to do with anymore. Opening his eyes, Chase felt his phone vibrate, he unlocked it and his jaw tightened when he saw the message. Exhibition No1. Time to execute.