Chapter 3

My phone buzzed again. This time, it was my father.

"Julian, come home for dinner tonight. Marcus is coming over with his daughter. Make sure you dress properly."

"Uncle Marcus?"

"Yes. He just returned from London and wants to catch up. You remember his daughter, Vivian—the little girl who used to follow you everywhere. She just finished her MBA at Harvard."

I frowned slightly. "Dad, are you setting me up on a blind date?"

There was a brief pause on the other end.

"It’s just an old family gathering. Why, haven’t you sorted things out with that girlfriend of yours yet?"

"..."

"Son, I told you I wouldn't interfere with your personal life. But it’s been three years. Haven’t you seen her true colors by now?"

My father’s words pierced straight through my chest like a needle.

At seven sharp, I pulled up to the gates of our suburban estate.

Jenkins greeted me at the courtyard, taking my keys with a respectful nod.

"Young Master, Miss Hastings has already arrived. She is currently chatting with the Madam in the lounge."

I nodded and headed upstairs to change.

The bespoke suit had been handcrafted by master tailors on Savile Row in London; slipping it on felt as light as air.

When I entered the living room, my father was discussing current financial markets with Uncle Marcus.

My mother caught sight of me and waved warmly.

"Julian is here. Vivian, look who just walked in!"

A young woman stepped out of the study, and my eyes widened slightly.

The memory of the little girl with a ponytail trailing behind me had completely faded. In her place stood an elegant, poised young woman.

Dressed in an ivory tailored suit, wearing subtle pearl earrings, she possessed an effortlessly graceful smile.

"Julian, it’s been so long." Vivian offered her hand.

I shook it warmly. "It really has. I heard you just wrapped up your MBA at Harvard?"

"Just graduated. Decided to return home and build my career," she smiled. "Your father mentioned you’ve been doing a fascinating social experiment recently?"

I shot a quick glance at my father, who was pretending to be deeply engaged in conversation with Uncle Marcus.

"Not much of an experiment," I replied casually. "Just experiencing life from the ground up."

Over dinner, Vivian blended into the conversation seamlessly.

She shared her insights on current macro trends, spoke of her time in Cambridge, and was remarkably well-versed in several sectors of our family’s enterprise.

She wasn't flattering anyone; her thoughts were genuinely sharp and insightful.

"Julian has been spending time on the frontline, truly understanding consumer demands," my father remarked to Uncle Marcus. "I believe this perspective is invaluable for taking over the reins."

Uncle Marcus nodded approvingly. "Absolutely. Unlike my stubborn nephew, who demanded a C-suite title right out of school without knowing how real businesses operate."

"What are your next steps, Vivian?" my mother asked gently.

"I’d like to work on operational levels for a few years to truly understand the market," Vivian replied. "I’ve received a few offers, but I’m still weighing my options."

"You should consider joining our group," my father chimed in smoothly. "Julian needs someone capable at his side."

I nearly choked on my soup.

Vivian chuckled playfully. "Well, that depends on whether Julian is willing to hire me."