All Chapters of Bound by Fortune :A Scandalous Heir Billionaire Romance : Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

The day of the board meeting, Davidson woke up to discover one solid, heavy object sitting squarely in the center of his dressing table. It was the old, untarnished silver key to the Alaskan lodge. There was no note. None was needed. The message was as clear as the cold light of dawn reflecting off the polished metal: the time for secret ritual was gone. Today, the succession theory would be put into action.Joe was already in the kitchen, dressed not in one of his power suits, but in dark, casual trousers and a simple sweater. He looked like a man on vacation, an image so dissonant with the day ahead that it sent a fresh jolt of anxiety through Davidson.“You’re not coming,” Davidson stated, the realization dawning as he stood in the doorway.Joe sipped his coffee, his eyes peaceful. "My presence would be a shadow. They would look to me for approval, for a hint of approval or disapproval on every item you bring before them. Today, they must look at you. They must look at you." He set

The public firestorm was a distraction. While Drake's media circus clattered and burned, a far more significant operation was underway in the soundproofed, sanitized silence of the Brison corporate jet, soaring far above the Atlantic. The flight plan was Geneva, but not for a civil union. This was a different kind of marriage altogether.Davidson watched Joe across the cabin. The older man was not reviewing briefing notes. He was staring out into the endless blue, his face a portrait of intense concentration. The lines around his eyes seemed deeper, carved not so much by years, but by the weight of the empire he was soon to claim."They won't be like the board," Joe stated, his voice cutting through the hum of the engines. He didn't turn from the window. "They don't care about morality clauses or tabloid headlines. They care about stability. Predictability. The American press can call you a deviant usurper. The Saudis, the Emiratis, the Russians… they just have to know the money will

The lull that ensued Davidson's command was fleeting and deceptive. Victor's reaction was not a showy, public blast. He was wiser than that. What he did instead was to unleash a much more subtle, insidious tool: the whisper.It began slowly. A senior investment fund analyst, a man friendly to Davidson all the time, was nervous on a telephone call about the Jakarta projections. His inquiries were interrupted with an unfamiliar, nearly suspicious doubt. "We're just trying to. see the whole picture, Davidson. The people aspect of the leadership transition."And then, at a fund-raising dinner—one of the first public events Davidson had been to since the scandal first broke—he felt it. The greetings remained warm, the handshakes strong, but the eyes of his peers carried a new, calculating edge. He observed clusters of people lull into silence as he drew near, only to have the small talk reflate on a forced joviality after he passed on. He was no longer just a scandalous heir; he was the ta

The invitation to the Houston annual energy symposium was relieved, dignified, and for the first time, addressed exclusively to Mr. Davidson Ekon, Chief Executive Officer, Brison Energy Holdings. Joe's name had been specifically left out. It was an experiment, sounding out of the old guard. Was Davidson his own man or did he remain merely Joe Brian's shadow, a consort playing dress-up in a CEO suit?Formerly, Davidson would have discussed it with Joe. He would have consulted him on the movers and shakers, the underlying agendas. This time he did not. He accepted the invitation in a formal, obligatory email from his own mailbox and prepared himself alone.The night of the symposium, he stood before the mirror in their bedroom. He wore a darker, more severe-cut suit than usual. The tie was solid deep red. He was every inch the commanding CEO, but the image still struck him as a disguise. Then he decided. He removed the signet ring, the thick platinum announcing his heirship, and placed

The world was screaming. The fallout from Joe's revelation was a cyber tempest—stock commentary, political commentary, tabloid rundown of every and all scandals, all swirling around the penthouse like an ectoplasmic storm. But inside, with the soundproof walls shutting out the commotion, there was simply an oppressive, weary quiet.They stood on the balcony, city lights a frantic, glittering expanse of the world that they now formally ruled. But there, the wind was a caress of chill, and the noise was a hum in the distance. Two minutes' worth of words had been an eternity, a burning of energy that had left them exhausted.Joe leaned back on the rail, shoulders slumped not with defeat, but with responsibility at last, officially, off his shoulders. He looked older on the moon, lines on his face etched by years of command."It's done," he whispered, his voice rough. It was the same words he had used in the lawyer's office, but now they were different. Then, it was about law. Now, it was