Perce stood in his expansive office, staring out of the floor-to-ceiling windows at the Westania skyline. The headlines had finally started to shift focus, but the tension in his family was just beginning to brew. His phone buzzed on the desk behind him. He picked it up, glancing at the screen.
Kellan: Call me when you have time. It's important.
Perce sighed, already anticipating the conversation. When Kellan said something was "important," it usually involved their family—specifically, their parents.
He dialed Kellan's number, and his older brother answered on the first ring.
"Finally," Kellan said. "What's going on with you and the girl?"
Perce rubbed his temple. "Which girl?"
"You know who," Kellan said dryly. "Carla Rivera. She's all over the news, and somehow, so are you."
"There's nothing going on," Perce said firmly. "It was one dance."
Kellan was silent for a moment. Then, in his typically cool tone, he said, "Mom and Dad saw the headlines."
Perce froze. "Of course they did."
"They're asking questions," Kellan continued. "Especially Dad. You know how he gets."
Perce groaned. Their father, Henry, was not known for his patience or tact. He'd probably already spun the story into a full-blown relationship, complete with a marriage timeline.
"What did you tell them?" Perce asked.
"I told them the truth," Kellan said. "That you're not dating her. Yet."
"Yet?" Perce repeated, his voice rising.
Kellan chuckled. "Relax. It's not a bad look for you. Carla's got a solid reputation, even if she's a little... unconventional."
Perce sighed. "I don't need Dad meddling in my life right now. We've got the Lutoll deal to focus on."
"Speaking of which," Kellan said, his tone shifting to business, "we need to finalize the presentation. Are you free tonight?"
"Yeah," Perce said, already pulling up his schedule. "I'll swing by your place after dinner."
"Good," Kellan said. "And Perce?"
"What?"
"Try to keep things simple with Carla," Kellan said, his voice tinged with amusement. "You don't handle drama well."
---
Meanwhile, Carla was dealing with her own version of familial chaos. Frances and Geraldine were lounging in her living room, flipping through magazines and scrolling on their phones.
"Have you called Mom today?" Frances asked, not looking up.
"No," Carla said, sipping her coffee. "Why?"
"She's been posting about you on Facebook again," Frances said.
Carla groaned. "What now?"
Geraldine smirked. "She shared one of the gala photos and captioned it, 'My brilliant daughter stealing hearts and headlines.'"
"Great," Carla muttered. "Just what I need—Mom turning this into a family spectacle."
"Speaking of family," Geraldine said, sitting up, "did you see the piece about Perce's parents in the Westania Post?"
Carla blinked. "No. Why would I?"
"Because his dad is basically a billionaire legend," Geraldine said. "Henry Marchand—ring any bells?"
Carla froze. "That's his dad?"
"Yep," Geraldine said, pulling up the article on her phone. "Apparently, the Marchands have some big family event coming up. Charity gala or something."
Carla's mind raced. She'd heard of Henry Marchand, of course. His reputation as a shrewd businessman and a relentless perfectionist was well-known. If Perce was anything like his father, it explained a lot about his cold demeanor.
"So," Frances said, grinning, "are you going to crash their family gala?"
"Absolutely not," Carla said, glaring at her.
"Oh, come on," Geraldine teased. "You'd be the highlight of the evening."
"Drop it," Carla said.
---
Later that evening, as Perce arrived at Kellan's penthouse, he found his older brother already at work. Kellan sat at the dining table, his laptop open and several documents spread out before him.
"Right on time," Kellan said without looking up.
Perce rolled his eyes and sat across from him. "Let's get this over with."
For the next hour, they reviewed the final details of their presentation for the Lutoll deal. Kellan, ever the perfectionist, went over every slide twice.
As they wrapped up, Kellan leaned back in his chair and said, "You know Mom's going to call you soon, right?"
"Why?" Perce asked, already dreading the answer.
"She wants to talk about Carla," Kellan said, smirking.
Perce groaned. "Can't she focus on something else for once?"
"Not when her youngest son is making headlines," Kellan said. "You know how she is."
Before Perce could respond, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and groaned.
"Let me guess," Kellan said. "Mom?"
"Yep," Perce muttered, reluctantly answering. "Hi, Mom."
"Perce!" his mother's cheerful voice filled the room. "How's my favorite son?"
Perce sighed. "I'm your only son, Mom."
"You know what I mean," she said, laughing. "Now, tell me about this Carla Rivera. She seems lovely."
"There's nothing to tell," Perce said, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Don't be modest," she said. "The two of you look wonderful together. Your father and I were just saying—"
"Mom," Perce interrupted. "It's not like that."
His mother paused, clearly unconvinced. "Well, if you say so. But you should bring her to dinner sometime. We'd love to meet her."
Perce groaned. "I'll think about it."
"Good," she said brightly. "Now, don't work too hard. Love you!"
"Love you too," Perce muttered before hanging up.
Kellan smirked. "She's not going to let this go, you know."
"I know," Perce said, leaning back in his chair. "And it's going to drive me insane."
---
Back at Carla's penthouse, the triplets were deep into one of their signature arguments—this time about where to order dinner from.
"Pizza," Frances declared.
"No," Geraldine said. "We had pizza last week. Let's get Thai."
"Pizza is easier," Frances countered.
"You're just lazy," Geraldine shot back.
"Ladies!" Carla interrupted. "Can we please focus? I have bigger problems than deciding between pizza and Thai."
"Like what?" Frances asked.
"Like the Marchands," Carla said.
Geraldine's eyes lit up. "You're still thinking about Perce, aren't you?"
"No!" Carla said, too quickly.
Frances and Geraldine exchanged knowing looks.
"Admit it," Frances said, grinning. "You like him."
"I don't," Carla insisted.
But as her sisters continued to tease her, Carla couldn't help but wonder if there was a kernel of truth in their words.
And if there was, what would she do about it?
---