Chapter 81: Adrian

Rain lashed against the towering glass windows of my penthouse apartment—a common occurrence in Seattle—but tonight, it felt relentless, echoing the chaos in my thoughts. I was more accustomed to using my analytical mind for mergers and acquisitions, not personal decisions. Especially one as drastic as what I was about to propose to Emily.

I swirled a glass of aged whiskey in my hand, the amber liquid reflecting the dim light of my minimalist living room. If anyone had told me a year ago that Emily Stanton, my prim and ever-efficient personal assistant, would become so central to my next business move, I'd have scoffed in their face. Sure, she’d proven herself invaluable over the last year as my assistant, but I imagined that would be the extent of her role in my life. 

But here I was, considering a ludicrous arrangement that might be the solution to the ridiculous clause in the old man's will.