The CEO's Revenge Bride

Ethan Calloway hated funerals.

It wasn't because they were sad, nor because they forced people to confront their own mortality. What he hated most was the performance. Funerals were filled with people pretending to care, and today's service was no exception.

The private chapel overlooking the Hudson River was packed with executives, investors, politicians, celebrities, and distant relatives who hadn't spoken to William Calloway in years. Yet every one of them wore the same solemn expression, as if they had lost the most important person in their lives. Ethan doubted half of them had spoken to his grandfather more than twice during the past decade.

Standing near the back of the room, he adjusted the cuff of his black designer suit and resisted the urge to check his watch for the hundredth time. The service had already lasted nearly two hours. Two long hours of speeches, stories, and carefully rehearsed tributes praising William Calloway's achievements. Speaker after speaker described him as a visionary, a pioneer, and a genius who had transformed a single luxury hotel in Manhattan into the largest privately owned hospitality empire in the world.

The irritating part was that none of it was untrue.

William Calloway had been all of those things. He had built an empire from nothing and turned the Calloway name into one of the most respected brands in the hospitality industry. His business instincts had been legendary, and even his competitors respected what he had accomplished.

Unfortunately, he had also been stubborn, demanding, controlling, and almost impossible to impress.

Even on his deathbed.

Especially on his deathbed.

The memory surfaced before Ethan could stop it.

Three weeks earlier, he had stood beside a hospital bed watching the strongest man he had ever known slowly lose his battle with time. The machines surrounding William had seemed completely out of place. For the first time in his life, the old man had looked fragile. Yet despite the illness and the exhaustion etched into his face, his blue eyes had remained as sharp as ever.

Sharp.

Disapproving.

Judgmental.

The exact same eyes Ethan saw every morning when he looked in a mirror.

"You're wasting your life."

Those had been William Calloway's final words to him.

Ethan had spent most of his life trying to earn the old man's approval. The frustrating part was that even now, standing in a funeral chapel surrounded by people mourning William Calloway, he still wasn't entirely sure whether he had ever succeeded.

Not goodbye.

Not I love you.

Not take care of yourself.

Just criticism.

As usual.

Ethan clenched his jaw as the memory faded.

The service finally came to an end, and people began rising from their seats. Conversations started almost immediately, quiet at first and then growing louder as guests gathered into groups. Ethan had barely taken a step toward the exit when two of the Calloway family attorneys approached him.

"Mr. Calloway."

Ethan nodded politely.

"Let's get this over with."

One of the lawyers offered a professional smile. "The reading of the will will begin in thirty minutes."

Of course it would.

Everything involving William Calloway had always been scheduled with military precision. The man had planned meetings down to the minute, and apparently even his own death wasn't exempt from that level of organization.

Without another word, Ethan left the chapel and stepped outside. The cool breeze carried the scent of approaching rain, and dark clouds had begun gathering over the city skyline. A black Bentley waited near the curb, its polished surface reflecting the gray afternoon light.

His driver immediately opened the rear door.

"Home, sir?"

"No."

Ethan glanced toward Manhattan in the distance, where the towers of the financial district rose against the darkening sky.

"The office."

The driver hesitated briefly, surprised by the answer.

"The office, sir?"

Ethan slid into the back seat and loosened his tie.

"Unless there's another CEO of Calloway Grand Hotels planning to take my place today."

The driver immediately understood that no further discussion was welcome and wisely remained silent. A moment later, the Bentley pulled away from the chapel and merged into Manhattan traffic while rain began falling steadily against the windows.

Ethan wasn't worried about the will. There was no reason to be.

Everyone knew he was William Calloway's sole heir. His father had died twelve years earlier, leaving Ethan as the only direct successor to the family empire. His mother had remarried and moved to Europe years ago, and there were no siblings, cousins, or distant relatives involved in the company. There had never been any real competition for the inheritance.

The empire belonged to him.

The only question was how much of William's fortune would accompany it.

Fifty billion dollars?

Seventy?

Maybe even more.

His grandfather had always enjoyed dramatic reveals, especially when money was involved. The thought almost made Ethan smile as he watched the city pass by outside the rain-streaked window.

By the time the Bentley arrived at Calloway Tower, the weather had worsened considerably. The forty-eight-story skyscraper dominated Midtown Manhattan, its glass exterior reflecting the dark clouds gathering overhead. Employees moved quietly through the lobby, their expressions unusually subdued. The founder of the company was gone, and everyone seemed aware that the future was uncertain.

At least for them.

Not for Ethan.

Within a few hours, he would officially inherit everything.

The board supported him. The shareholders knew him. Investors trusted him.

And the media couldn't seem to get enough of him.

Well, perhaps "love" wasn't exactly the right word.

Obsessed was probably more accurate.

Ethan couldn't remember the last month he hadn't appeared in a magazine. Business publications analyzed his investments. Celebrity magazines followed his relationships. Luxury lifestyle publications documented his vacations, his penthouses, his yachts, and his growing collection of expensive cars. There had been photographs of him leaving exclusive clubs, photographs of him dating actresses, models, influencers, and at one particularly ridiculous point, a European princess he'd seen for less than a month.

The public treated him like entertainment.

His grandfather had hated every second of it.

The conference room reserved for the reading of the will occupied the top floor of the building. When Ethan entered, twelve people were already seated around the long mahogany table. Board members, senior attorneys, financial advisors, and executors looked up as he walked in, their expressions far more serious than he expected.

The atmosphere immediately struck him as strange, almost tense.

Ethan dropped into an empty chair and glanced around the room.

"Why does everyone look like they're attending another funeral?"

The joke fell completely flat.

Nobody laughed.

That alone was enough to make him pay attention.

The lead attorney cleared his throat and adjusted a stack of documents in front of him.

"Shall we begin?"

Ethan leaned back comfortably in his chair.

"Please."

The attorney opened a thick leather folder and adjusted his glasses before speaking.

"For the record, this is the last will and testament of William Harrison Calloway."

The room fell silent.

Several legal statements followed, most of which Ethan barely listened to. He had never cared much for legal jargon, and he certainly wasn't interested in hearing an attorney recite pages of procedural language. Instead, he waited for the important part.

The numbers.

Eventually they arrived.

Properties, investment portfolios, trusts, corporate holdings, art collections, private islands, and aircraft followed one after another as the attorney reviewed William Calloway's enormous estate.

Everything sounded exactly as expected.

Until it didn't.

The attorney suddenly paused, adjusted his glasses once more, and continued reading.

"The entirety of Calloway Grand Hotels, including all associated assets and controlling interests, shall transfer to my grandson, Ethan James Calloway..."

A satisfied smirk appeared on Ethan's face.

There it was.

Exactly as predicted.

Then the attorney continued.

"...upon fulfillment of the conditions outlined in Article Twelve."

The smirk vanished immediately.

Conditions?

Ethan straightened in his chair.

"What conditions?"

The attorney ignored the interruption and continued reading.

"The beneficiary must enter into a legally recognized marriage within thirty calendar days following the official reading of this will."