CHAPTER 1

Radimir adjusted the cuff of his crisp, tailored suit as he stood by the large bay windows, gazing out at the sprawling city skyline. The late afternoon sun bathed the office in a golden hue, casting long, angular shadows that crept across the polished wooden floor. The quiet hum of the air conditioning was the only sound that filled the room—a rare moment of calm in the whirlwind of Radimir's hectic life.

He allowed himself a moment of introspection, his mind wandering to the endless stream of meetings, negotiations, and decisions that filled his days. This fleeting stillness was a luxury, a brief respite in a world where peace was always just out of reach.

The muffled sound of footsteps outside his door broke through his thoughts, drawing him back to the present. His secretary, a young man with an air of composed efficiency, knocked lightly before stepping into the room.

"Mr. Vandeleur has arrived, sir," the secretary announced, his voice measured and respectful.

Radimir turned away from the window, his expression softening into a warm smile. Despite the formidable reputation that preceded Mr. Vandeleur, there was a deep and abiding respect that Radimir held for the man. Mr. Vandeleur had been a constant presence in his life since childhood—a mentor and a second father after the untimely passing of his own.

"Good. Please, show him in," Radimir replied, his tone carrying a mix of warmth and reverence.

Moments later, the heavy oak door swung open, revealing Mr. Vandeleur. Despite his advanced age, the old man still carried himself with a certain authority, a presence that demanded respect. His back was slightly hunched, and he moved with the deliberate caution of someone long past their prime, but his eyes—sharp, calculating—betrayed none of his years.

Radimir crossed the room in a few swift strides, meeting the older man halfway. He enveloped Mr. Vandeleur in a firm embrace, clapping him on the back with the familiarity of long-standing affection. The hug lingered longer than usual, perhaps an unspoken acknowledgment of the many years and shared history between them.

"Mr. Vandeleur, it's good to see you back in good health," Radimir greeted, his voice warm and genuine.

"Thank you, my boy," Mr. Vandeleur replied with a chuckle, his tone rich with the weight of years. "I can't die just yet. My only grandson still needs me."

Radimir released him and took a step back, studying the old man's face with a discerning eye. The weariness was evident in the lines etched deep into his features, but so was the indomitable spirit that had defined Mr. Vandeleur's life.

"Please, have a seat," Radimir gestured to the long, comfortable sofa reserved for guests, his voice carrying the subtle authority of a host intent on ensuring the comfort of his guest.

Mr. Vandeleur complied, moving with the careful precision of someone well aware of the finite reserve of energy they had left. He lowered himself onto the sofa, gripping his cane tightly for support as he did so. Once settled, he placed both hands atop the cane, his gaze meeting Radimir's with the unspoken understanding that passed between them.

Radimir's secretary hovered discreetly in the background, awaiting further instructions.

"Make us some tea, and Mr. Vandeleur's favorite cookies," Radimir instructed, a hint of nostalgia coloring his voice.

But Mr. Vandeleur waved his hand dismissively, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"No, tea will do. My doctor has forbidden me from indulging in sweets or anything sugary. But I'm touched that you still remember my favorite cookies. It's exactly what I would expect from the son of my dear, departed friend."

Radimir smiled, a touch of flattery in his tone as he replied, "Of course, Mr. Vandeleur. I never forget anything about you."

Mr. Vandeleur chuckled, the sound dry but full of warmth.

"And I'm afraid my old jaw can't handle solid foods anymore."

Radimir's grin widened, his tone lightening. "Is that so? You look younger than your age, sir. I'd say you could still bite through a brick."

The joke earned a genuine laugh from Mr. Vandeleur, the sound echoing pleasantly in the quiet office. Radimir glanced at his secretary, giving a slight nod.

"Just tea for us then," he confirmed.

The secretary nodded in understanding and quietly exited the room, leaving the two men alone.

"How's Lucas?" Radimir asked, his tone shifting to one of sincere interest.

At the mention of his grandson, Mr. Vandeleur's stern expression softened, the transformation almost miraculous. It was as if just the thought of the boy brought a lightness to the old man's heart.

"Oh, that boy…" Mr. Vandeleur's eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled, the warmth in his voice palpable. "He's still not talking much, but he just made me the sweetest banner, with his own drawings and writing, to welcome this old man back home from the hospital. He didn't have to do that, but it warmed my heart."

As he spoke, Mr. Vandeleur's voice was filled with a deep, abiding pride, his eyes shining with the love only a grandparent could possess.

"He knows how to write and draw now? That's impressive for Lucas," Radimir remarked, his smile genuine.

Mr. Vandeleur nodded, his smile broadening.

"He does. Though he still refuses to attend the special school, he's agreed to be homeschooled now. He's learning bit by bit."

Radimir shared in Mr. Vandeleur's pride. Lucas was a special case—a young man diagnosed with an Intellectual Disability (ID) that made everyday tasks and learning a challenge. Yet, despite the difficulties, Lucas was making progress, and that was something worth celebrating.

"Congratulations, Mr. Vandeleur," Radimir said, his voice tinged with genuine happiness for the old man.

But instead of a thank you, the old man's smile faded, replaced by the stern, businesslike demeanor that Radimir had grown accustomed to over the years.

"Radimir," Mr. Vandeleur began, his voice taking on a cold, almost imperious tone. "I know you're wondering why I came here personally today. I'm a busy man, and I don't like to waste time, so I'll get straight to the point."

Radimir's expression sobered, sensing the shift in the conversation. He leaned forward slightly, his full attention on the older man.

"I've heard that your son, Xebastian, will be returning to the States in a few months," Mr. Vandeleur continued, his gaze sharp, as if trying to gauge Radimir's reaction.

Radimir wasn't surprised that Mr. Vandeleur had such information. The man had resources beyond imagination, and there was little that escaped his notice. Moreover, their families were close—such news wasn't exactly a secret.

"That's correct, Mr. Vandeleur," Radimir confirmed with a nod.

"Good," Mr. Vandeleur said, his tone clipped. "Then I should begin preparing for the wedding between him and Lucas, starting tomorrow."

The shock hit Radimir like a physical blow. If the tea had already been served, he would have surely choked on it. His face drained of color, and he abruptly stood, his mouth gaping open in disbelief. Radimir was not a man easily rattled, but this—this was beyond anything he could have anticipated.

"Mr. Vandeleur—" Radimir began, his voice laced with incredulity.

But Mr. Vandeleur cut him off sharply, his tone brooking no argument.

"Radimir. You were there when your father and I made a pact—a promise to each other. You may not remember it clearly, but I do. Even at my age, my memory is as sharp as ever."

Radimir's mouth closed, his mind racing. How could he forget? His father, the late Vladimir, had never let him forget that promise. It had been a constant reminder, a binding word passed down from father to son. His father had often recounted the story of how Mr. Vandeleur had been the only one to extend a hand when their family was in dire need. The support—both moral and financial—had come at a critical time, and it was something Vladimir had never taken for granted.

Before Radimir could respond, the office door opened, and his secretary entered, carrying a porcelain tray with a teapot and two cups. The young man quickly noticed the heavy atmosphere between his boss and Mr. Vandeleur and, without a word, set the tray down quietly before excusing himself once more.

Radimir took a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly as he picked up his cup of tea—more for something to do than anything else. The tension in the room was palpable. He took a small sip, trying to buy himself a moment to think.

"I remember everything, Mr. Vandeleur," Radimir finally said, his voice tinged with hesitation.

Mr. Vandeleur's gaze remained unyielding as he watched Radimir carefully over the rim of his teacup after taking another sip.

"Then what's the problem? Is it because of Lucas's disability? Not a perfect match for your perfect son?"

Radimir hesitated, choosing his words with care, afraid of offending the old man.

"I apologize, Mr. Vandeleur, if my reaction caused any misunderstanding, but Lucas's disability isn't the issue here. The boy is excellent as he is. However, you're fully aware that Xebastian is a man, as is your grandson. Xebastian is my only offspring. I don't have a daughter to marry off to your grandson," Radimir explained, his voice steady, but the underlying tension was evident.

The promise Radimir referred to was indeed a weighty one—a commitment forged between two old friends to unite their families through marriage. The pact had been simple: if each of them had a grandchild, those grandchildren would be wed, ensuring that the bond between their families remained strong. But the agreement had been made long before anyone knew what the future would hold, and certainly before the complexities of modern life had come into play.

"I'm not senile, Radimir," Mr. Vandeleur replied sharply, his tone laced with impatience. "I'm fully aware that your child is a man. But that doesn't change the promise. A promise is still a promise. A pact is still a pact. If your father were still alive, he would agree to this without a second thought."

Radimir took another sip of tea, trying to steady himself. Mr. Vandeleur's words cut deep, a reminder of the unwavering loyalty his father had always shown to this man. The elder Vladimir had been a man of his word, a trait he had instilled in his son from a young age. And Radimir knew, without a doubt, that if his father were here, he would have agreed with Mr. Vandeleur in an instant—no questions asked.

To be truthful, Radimir wasn't necessarily opposed to the idea. Same-sex marriage was quite common in the country they lived in, where it was fully legal. But the situation was more complicated than that. He had always known Mr. Vandeleur to be a man of his word, and the idea of uniting their families was certainly appealing. Mr. Vandeleur was an immensely powerful figure, with vast holdings in pharmaceuticals, hospitals, and educational institutions across Europe and the United States. A marriage alliance would bring untold advantages to Radimir's business empire, as well as secure a lasting bond between the two families.

However, the idea of forcing his son into a marriage—especially one with Mr. Vandeleur's intellectually disabled grandson—was a different matter entirely.

"Are you thinking of a way to escape this situation, Radimir?" Mr. Vandeleur asked, his eyes narrowing as Radimir took a long pause before responding.

"You know I'm not that kind of person, Mr. Vandeleur," Radimir replied with a slight chuckle, masking the turmoil brewing in his mind. His tone was measured, carefully controlled. "However, I hope you understand that my son, Xebastian, is… unique. He's fiercely independent and has his own ideas about his future. I don't think he'd take kindly to being pushed into something like this."

Mr. Vandeleur's expression didn't soften. If anything, it hardened. He placed his teacup down with deliberate care, leaned forward, and rested both hands on the head of his cane, his gaze piercing through Radimir.

"Radimir, I'm not asking you. I'm telling you. Your father and I agreed on this, and I intend to see it through. Lucas is my only heir, and I need to know that he will be cared for by someone I can trust after I'm gone. I have a good eye for judgment, and I believe Xebastian is that someone. This marriage will ensure that Lucas is protected, both financially and emotionally."

Radimir opened his mouth to protest, but Mr. Vandeleur raised a hand, silencing him before he could speak.

"And don't think I haven't thought this through," Mr. Vandeleur continued, his voice now cold and calculating. "Lucas may have his challenges, but he's a good boy with a kind heart. Xebastian could do far worse. Besides, marriage doesn't have to be a traditional one. This is about the alliance, about ensuring Lucas is looked after. Xebastian will be free to live his life as he pleases, as long as he fulfills his duties as Lucas's husband."

Radimir felt a chill run down his spine. He knew Mr. Vandeleur was a man of his word, but he hadn't anticipated such ruthless pragmatism. The old man was essentially proposing a marriage in name only, with Xebastian playing the role of caretaker rather than husband. It was a cold, calculated move—one that could ensure Lucas's well-being while preserving the Vandeleur legacy. But at what cost?

"And what if Xebastian refuses?" Radimir asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, the fear of the consequences evident in his tone.

Mr. Vandeleur's gaze hardened even further, and his voice dropped to a near whisper, dripping with unspoken menace.

"Then you'll have a much bigger problem on your hands, Radimir. I've been patient with you because of your father. But I don't make idle threats. If Xebastian refuses, then I'll have no choice but to reconsider our business arrangements. And let me assure you, that won't be enough," Mr. Vandeleur paused, his eyes narrowing further. "I will use all my power and resources to bring you down and dismantle the empire your father built with his sweat and blood. Even though he was my best friend, I'll do whatever it takes to secure my grandson's future. And trust me when I say this, you won't like the outcome."

Radimir's heart pounded in his chest. The threat was clear, unambiguous. Mr. Vandeleur had the power to dismantle everything Radimir had built, to strip away the empire he had worked so hard to expand. It was a brutal reminder that in their world, power and loyalty were everything, and a broken promise was the ultimate betrayal.

But what choice did he have? The future of his company, his family's legacy, and even his own standing in the business world were all at stake. He couldn't afford to lose Mr. Vandeleur's support. Yet, the thought of forcing Xebastian into a marriage he didn't want—a marriage with someone who might never truly understand the role he was being asked to play—was a bitter pill to swallow.

Radimir's mind raced, searching for a solution, a way to honor the promise without destroying his son's future. But as he looked into Mr. Vandeleur's eyes, he realized that there was no easy way out. The old man's mind was made up, and nothing Radimir could say would change it.

"I'll talk to Xebastian," Radimir said finally, his voice heavy with resignation. "But I can't promise that he'll agree."

Mr. Vandeleur nodded, seemingly satisfied for the moment. He leaned back against the sofa, his posture relaxing just slightly.

"That's all I ask, Radimir. Speak to your son. Make him understand what's at stake here. And given my situation now, with this deteriorating health of mine, I can't wait much longer. The sooner Xebastian returns, the better. The sooner I can make all the necessary arrangements. I'll give you until the end of the month to convince him. After that, I'll expect an answer."

Radimir nodded numbly, the weight of the old man's ultimatum pressing down on him like a physical burden. For someone who had just been released from the hospital, Mr. Vandeleur wielded his power with a ruthlessness that was both terrifying and awe-inspiring. Radimir had seen Mr. Vandeleur bring prestigious businesses to their knees before, and he knew the man's threats were far from empty.

"I'll do my best, Mr. Vandeleur," Radimir replied, his voice hollow, drained of the confidence that usually defined him.

Mr. Vandeleur's stern expression softened, just a fraction, as he rose to his feet with Radimir's assistance.

"I know you will, my boy. You've always been a man of your word, just like your father. I trust you'll do the right thing."

Radimir forced a smile as he escorted Mr. Vandeleur to the door. But as the old man left, his cane tapping against the polished floor, Radimir couldn't shake the sinking feeling in his chest. The weight of his father's promise now felt like a chain, pulling him deeper into an abyss from which there might be no escape.

As the door closed behind Mr. Vandeleur, Radimir returned to the bay window, his mind racing. The cityscape before him, which had once appeared vibrant and full of opportunity, now seemed cold and indifferent. He was trapped between a rock and a hard place, with no clear path forward.

For all the power and influence Radimir wielded, he was powerless against the force of a promise made long ago—a promise that now threatened to unravel everything he held dear.