"Don't worry, Grandfather. You'll know once the time comes," the young man said.
His grandfather smiled broadly this time and patted him on the back in pride.
"Well done. Now I can die in peace, knowing you've provided me with an heir," the old man said, and the room grew eerily quiet.
It was no secret that the head of Collen Industries was sick and had heart failure, but it was forbidden to mention it in the young master's presence.
The young man looked at his grandfather before him, his frown deepening. His grandfather had raised him after he lost both his parents at a young age.
"Well, Grandfather, I should start heading out. It's getting late," the young man said, returning to his stiff posture .
He looked at his grandfather, who had once been taller than him in his youth, but now the young man towered over him a clear sign the old man is indeed aging .
"Why don't you stay the night? It's already late," the old man asked, pouting slightly. The young man sighed.
It was true—old age made people more childish, and his grandfather had become very clingy in recent years.
"I can't, Grandfather. I have an early meeting tomorrow," the young man replied.
The old man sighed, already expecting that answer.
"When will I meet my daughter-in-law?" the old man asked hopefully, looking at his grandson.
"Next time I visit. That's all I can promise for now. But don't worry—she'll be with me when I come back," the young man replied, giving a nod before heading toward the door. His grandfather nodded as well, but the look in his eyes showed that he wished things were different.
As the young man walked out, a man in a sleek black suit approached him, phone in hand. "Sir, the lawyer called," the man said, handing the device to the young man.
"Speak," the young man commanded, pressing the phone to his ear.
"Sir, she just sent a message confirming she has accepted the contract. The paperwork is ready. When would you like to set the signing date?" the voice on the other end of the line inquired, professional yet cautious.
"Tomorrow. I want it done tomorrow. Have everything prepared and ready as soon as possible," the young man replied curtly, ending the call with a quick press of a button. Without hesitation, he walked toward his car, determination etched on his face.
---
"Why does he have to book such a fancy place for the signing? Couldn't he have chosen a regular café or something?" Sophie muttered under her breath as the Uber finally pulled up to their destination.
"Wellington's Hotel," she said, reading the sign out loud, her eyes narrowing slightly. The place exuded an aura of wealth and class, which only made Sophie more uncomfortable.
"I told you to dress up, Soph, but no! You had to go all casual. Now look at where we are—some fancy hotel—and you're dressed like you just threw on whatever was closest," Daisy scolded, shaking her head in disapproval as she gave Sophie's outfit a critical once-over.
"First of all, these aren't just jumpers, okay? Secondly, he needs to know the kind of person he's about to marry. I doubt I'll have to change my fashion sense just to fit in," Sophie said, crossing her arms defensively.
"In case you've forgotten, Daisy, he can't even walk, so it's not like I'll be following him anywhere fancy," she added with a smirk, feeling a bit smug about her stance.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Soph. Let's just get this over with," Daisy sighed, clearly tired of the back-and-forth. They both stepped into the hotel lobby, glancing around at the luxurious surroundings.
Daisy approached the front desk, tapping her fingers on the counter to get the receptionist's attention. "Excuse me, we have a reservation with Mr. Shane. Could you tell us which room he's in?"
The receptionist, who had been smiling just moments earlier, now wore a frown as her eyes scanned Daisy up and down with thinly veiled disdain. "Last name?" she asked in a clipped tone, barely glancing at the computer screen in front of her.
Daisy rolled her eyes, turning to Sophie with a look of confusion. Neither of them had bothered to ask for Mr. Shane's last name. It seemed like a rookie mistake, but here they were.
Sophie stepped forward, trying to salvage the situation. "We don't know his last name, but could you check if there's a reservation under the name Shane? He's expecting us," she asked, her voice softening in an attempt to be polite.
'Why didn't we ask for his surname earlier?' Sophie silently berated herself. The receptionist, however, seemed unimpressed by her polite demeanor and stood taller, her posture rigid with arrogance.
"If you don't know his last name, then you can leave. I don't have time for desperate gold diggers like you .
So please, use the door and find your way out," the receptionist said with a cruel smile.
Daisy's temper flared instantly. She took a step forward, but Sophie quickly grabbed her arm, holding her back.
Upstairs, in one of the lavish hotel suites, a man sat by the window, watching the drama unfold through a live feed from the security cameras. His eyes narrowed as he observed the interaction and his eyes darkened dangerously.
Picking up his phone, he dialed a number.
"Good afternoon, young master .
Is there an issue with your stay?" the hotel manager answered, his voice shaky and nervous. The man knew his job might be on the line if there was any complaint.
"It's seems my guest are being disrespected by your receptionist.
I trust you to handle the situation effectively if you want to keep your job .
Escort my guests to the VIP lounge with the respect they deserve. I'll be down to meet them shortly," the man said with his cold voce before hanging up.
"Yes, sir. Right away, sir!" the manager stammered into the now-dead line. He cursed under his breath, realizing the gravity of the situation.
"Who is at the desk today , do they want to get me fired " he muttered under his breathe.
And then stormed out of his office, fury burning in his chest.
---
"What is going on here?" the manager demanded, arriving at the reception desk just as a small crowd had gathered, curious about the escalating scene.
"Sir, these sluts are claiming to be looking for Mr. Shane," the receptionist said with a smug smile, clearly proud of how she had handled the situation.