Heir’s Burden

The air in the executive office was thick with tension, and Reane's thoughts lingered on the words, 'That depends on you.'

She knew this was coming after last night's events and had planned to bring it up herself, but she didn't expect her father to beat her to it.

The head of the Castellijo family's voice, deep and unwavering, cut through the silent room.

"I talked to Mr. Strathmore earlier this morning. He and his son were upset with you." His tone was harsh, laced with disappointment.

He stood in front of her with a stern expression.

"Ren, your disrespectful behavior is humiliating me and our family... again."

Reane met his gaze, unfazed.

"You're just imagining things. I have no reason to embarrass you—you've been doing that yourself," she said with a hint of sarcasm, a clear challenge.

Rodney's eyes narrowed as he shook his head.

"You're not a child, Ren. Stop acting like one."

He wanted to scold his daughter without raising his voice—his presence alone should have been enough, but not for Reane.

The Castellijo heir leaned back in her chair, trying to create some distance to disrupt the suffocating, unsettling air in the room.

"Maybe I'd stop if you stopped treating me like one." She replied casually. 

Rodney clenched his jaw, locking eyes with Reanne as his patience wore thin. After a long day of business meetings, the last thing he needed was to deal with his daughter acting like a rebellious teenager.

Sitting quietly to the side, Sylvia could feel the tension rising. Before the argument could get out of hand, she stepped in.

"Both of you are acting like children." Her tone was flat as she glared at the bickering father and daughter. She then met her husband's gaze, her eyes silently urging him to give their daughter a chance.

Rodney exhaled deeply, running a hand over his face. He clearly didn't want to drag this out longer than necessary.

"Tell me, Ren. Why did you make a scene last night? There were plenty of other days to get drunk and hang out with your friends, but why did you do it while you were with Henri? Mr. Strathmore didn't appreciate how you treated his son."

Reanne's head snapped toward him.

"What?! How I treated his son? He wasn't even there! Do you even know how his son treated me? What he did that night?" She snarled, standing up in exasperation.

Rodney met her glare without flinching.

"I don't need to know because I'm not surprised. You've pulled this stunt before—sabotaging arrangements just to get out of them."

His voice was laced with accusation.

Reanne scoffed.

"Excuse me? This is different—he—"

"Reanne!" Rodney cut her off with his sharp voice.

"I told you I wouldn't let this slide if you pulled something like this again! The Strathmores are our biggest investors, and I've told you over and over how important this is!"

Sylvia quickly stepped in as their voices rose, concern creeping in as she realized there was more to this than she knew of.

"Both of you, calm down!" she said firmly.

"Reanne, if there's something you want to say, you can say it."

She was already getting a headache dealing with the infamous Castellijo temper. Her gaze shifted to her daughter, who desperately tried to hold back tears.

She knew her daughter was just as hard-headed as her father, but she also knew Reanne wouldn't act out without reason.

Whatever had happened, there was more to it than what Rodney believed.

Reanne took a deep breath, forcing herself to steady, but she could not find the words she really wanted to say to her father.

"I... I know and remember everything you said—every bit of it. I don't want to disregard that or disappoint you, but you don't listen to me."

Tears started to well up in Reane's eyes, but Rodney wasn't interested in her excuses. He had already heard enough from the Strathmores. He even confirmed that Reanne had passed out from drinking too much—if it weren't for her best friend attending to her, the situation could have turned into a full-blown scandal.

"No!" Rodney's voice thundered through the room, startling Reane.

"You should listen to me!"

"You don't want to disappoint me? Yet you can't even do something as simple as going on a proper date with Mr. Strathmore's son without getting drunk! So tell me—how long will you keep acting like a spoiled child?"

Reanne clenched her fists.

He wasn't listening. He never listened.

"Seriously, Dad? Do you even think—"

"Enough!" Rodney's voice boomed, cutting her off. "You will listen to what I say and apologize to the Strathmores. That's final."

Before Reanne could protest, Gilliard stepped into the room.

"I'm really sorry for interrupting, but the guest refuses to wait any longer."

Just as Gilliard was about to introduce the guest, an elderly, balding man strode in, completely ignoring him. Without a word, the man shut the door behind him, leaving her father's assistant outside.

The old man was short and stout, relying on a polished wooden cane—deep red with gold accents—to support his weight. Large rings gleamed on his thick fingers, but it was the quiet authority in his presence that truly stood out.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything important," the balding man said, flashing a broad smile that revealed a set of golden teeth.

Rodney's demeanor shifted in an instant—from frustration toward Reanne to a warm, welcoming presence for the older man.

"What a surprise! How are you doing, Mr. Strathmore?"

Rodney grinned as if he'd just received an early Christmas gift.

"I told you, Rod—just call me Albert. No need for formalities," he said with a low chuckle, tapping his cane against the floor like a judge delivering a final verdict.

'No one called my father Rod,' Reanne thought. Aside from her mother and late grandfather, no one ever dared. People walked on eggshells around him—but not this old man.

Albert and Rodney shook hands and exchanged a brief, familiar hug before Albert turned to Sylvia and greeted her with the same warmth.

Lastly, Mr. Strathmore turned his attention to Reanne. His gaze was assessing, lingering as if he were sizing her up. The way he stared made her uncomfortable.

"It's nice to see you again, my beautiful future daughter-in-law," the elderly man said. Reanne managed a short, awkward "Hi," but she hadn't expected Albert to pull her into a tight hug.

She stiffened, feeling the firm press of his large belly against her. But more than that, it was the way he had looked at her earlier and so casually said 'future daughter-in-law' that unsettled her the most.

Albert Strathmore was a man who commanded both fear and respect. Despite his age, he remained sharp and clever. His stout frame, dressed in a perfectly tailored gray suit, made him seem both powerful and untouchable. He carried himself with the confidence of someone who had built an empire—because he had.

The Strathmore family wasn't just wealthy; they were a dynasty. Their name was stamped on luxury properties, exclusive resorts, and five-star hotels worldwide. Their reach extends beyond real estate; they have major investments in the aviation, media, and technology industries.

As though their family's success wasn't already towering, Henricho Strathmore, the sole heir to their industrial empire, built his own name in Silicon Valley. At 23, he launched a groundbreaking software company that transformed online transactions, earning him a place on the Millionaires Under 30 list.

Rodney knows that a marriage alliance would merge two business giants, ensuring absolute dominance in technology and hospitality.

"Mr. Strathmore, I'd like to personally apologize—" Rodney began, and for the first time in her life, Reanne almost felt grateful to her father for interrupting. At least it made Albert release her. She instinctively took a step back, resisting the urge to wipe her arms where his touch lingered.

The hug was long and firm, possessive as if she were already part of his family—already his son's property.

But as she looked at her father, she noticed something—he wasn't just speaking to smooth things over. There was a glimmer in Rodney Castellijo's eyes, something dangerously close to satisfaction.

Reanne had seen that look before. She had seen it in business meetings and negotiations where powerful men shook hands with silent, mutual understanding. It was the look of someone who had just secured a deal—the kind that would elevate their status beyond imagination.

And that terrified her. The triumphant glint in her father's eyes said it all—this was the deal of a lifetime.

Albert simply waved Rodney off.

"No, no. It's quite alright. I may have spoken a little harshly over the phone earlier, so I also ask for your forgiveness. Besides, you don't need to worry—my son, Henri, has already told me everything."

Then, a heavy silence settled over the room. Even Sylvia seemed to hold her breath. A million questions swirled in her mind—she wanted answers, needed to know exactly what had happened last night. But for now, she let them go. Her main concern was Reanne's well-being. Whatever the head of the Strathmore family said next could shape not only her daughter's future but also the fate of the company.

"As a father, it pains me to hear that my son was placed in such an embarrassing situation," Albert continued, shaking his head.

"But Henri explained and told me he's grown fond of Reanne and is willing to let bygones be bygones. So, we want to move forward with the arrangement. Why don't we plan the engagement now? After all, we wouldn't want young love to wait."

His voice was bright, almost celebratory, but Reanne felt her stomach drop, leaving her speechless. She turned to her mother, seeking support, as everything was happening too fast. Sylvia, too, looked taken aback—clearly unaware of this development.

Meanwhile, Rodney looked like he had just won the lottery.

In a way, he had.

The use of 'we'—the unspoken alliance between the Strathmores and Castellijos—was more than just a formality. It secured the merger of their empires, something he had longed for.

Seeing their expressions, Albert smiled broadly as a sign of approval.

"Well, then," he said with a hearty chuckle.

"Let me call my son," Albert said, fixing his gaze on Reanne with a beaming smile.

"He's been waiting for you outside."

Reanne's eyes widened. As if dealing with the older Strathmore wasn't enough, now she had to face the one person she wanted to avoid.

The older Strathmore called for his son, shouting louder than necessary.

A cold dread washed over the strawberry-blonde, like a bucket of ice water poured over her, freezing her in place.

'No. Not him. Not now.' The words pounded in her head, a silent, desperate plea. But fate had already made its choice.

Henricho had arrived.