6 months before the setup.
Grayson's mansion was nothing short of a private estate, a sprawling symbol of refined luxury nestled in one of Austin's most exclusive neighborhoods. The exterior was a masterful blend of Mediterranean revival and modern design, with intricate stonework, gracefully arched windows, and a gently sloping tiled roof. As he entered through the grand wrought-iron gates, he was greeted by a manicured courtyard lined with ancient oak trees, vibrant flowerbeds, and a tranquil fountain that whispered of old-world charm. Inside, the mansion revealed a world of opulence.
The expansive foyer boasted polished marble floors and a sweeping staircase adorned with ornate balustrades. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm, inviting glow over everything, while subtle details—like hand-painted murals and custom lighting fixtures—hinted at the designer's dedication to both elegance and comfort. Grayson's office, his personal sanctuary within the home, was equally impressive. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed breathtaking views of the estate's lush gardens, flooding the room with natural light. A bespoke mahogany desk stood at its center, flanked by plush leather chairs and surrounded by walls lined with rare first-edition books.
Every element, from the antique crown moldings to the state-of-the-art technology discreetly integrated into the décor, spoke of a seamless marriage between classic sophistication and modern convenience.
Grayson leaned back in his chair, letting the quiet of his office envelope him as his mind began to wander through corridors of lost possibilities. In the stillness, he couldn't help but imagine a different life—one where Sasha hadn't been the woman she turned out to be. What might have been if her unpredictable nature had been replaced with steadfast support? In that alternate reality, perhaps her smile would have been a beacon rather than a harbinger of chaos, and their shared dreams might have forged a partnership built on trust instead of turmoil.
Yet even as that wistful vision unfolded in his thoughts, another weight pressed on him: the legacy of the family business. The sprawling empire, passed down through generations, was both his inheritance and his burden. Every polished surface and meticulously designed corner of his mansion whispered reminders of ancestral ambitions and the unyielding expectations tethered to his name. The mansion itself, a monument to family prestige, seemed to murmur stories of old successes and unresolved conflicts, each echo a call to uphold a history that was as illustrious as it was demanding.
Grayson had always held an unwavering love and admiration for his mother and sisters. They were the foundation of his world, the voices of reason in moments of doubt, and the comforting presence that reminded him of his own humanity. His mother had been a guiding force, the person who instilled in him the values of perseverance and duty. She carried their family's legacy with grace, ensuring that tradition did not become a weight but rather a foundation on which they could all build their futures. Even in her quiet moments, she radiated a strength that inspired him, her love expressed not through grand gestures but in the steadfast support she offered every day. Marybelle, his older sister, had always been his confidante. Though she was strong-willed and independent, she never hesitated to stand by his side. She saw through his facades, understood his burdens, and never let him retreat too far into solitude. She was a pillar of composure, offering wisdom with a mix of tough love and unwavering loyalty. Lainey, his younger sister, brought a different kind of warmth into his life. She was spirited and free-spirited, always ready to challenge expectations and carve her own path. Her enthusiasm for life was contagious, and no matter how heavy his responsibilities felt, she had a way of reminding him to laugh, to take a breath, and to appreciate the simple joys.Together, they were his safe harbor in a world that often felt overwhelming. But even with their unwavering support, there was another presence that loomed large in Grayson's mind—his father. Though he was gone, his influence remained, woven into every expectation, every responsibility, and every decision Grayson made.
His father had been a man of formidable ambition, a force who built the family empire with grit and unrelenting perseverance. Grayson had spent his life watching, learning, and striving to live up to that legacy. He wanted to make him proud, to ensure that the sacrifices and relentless pursuit of excellence that defined his father's life would not be in vain.
At times, that drive felt like a tether, binding him to a predetermined path, one that left little room for personal desires or deviations. But more than that, it was a promise—a silent vow to uphold the family name with honor, to expand upon what had been built, and to be a man his father would respect, even in absentia. With them, he was not just the heir to a vast family empire or a man caught between expectation and desire—he was simply Grayson, a brother and a son who cherished the people who knew him best, and then there were the six awful dates. In that quiet moment of reflection, as the midday sun cast its warm glow through the large windows, Grayson grappled with the tangled interplay of what might have been, the unyielding call of family duty, and the comical yet painful reminders of his modern misadventures in love.It was then that a sudden burst of loud conversation from downstairs shattered the tranquility. Frowning, he pushed his chair back and made his way down the grand staircase, the voices growing more distinct with each step. As he entered the kitchen, he was met with an unexpected scene. His mother, elegant as ever, wore a perfectly tailored navy Chanel suit dress that accentuated her regal posture. A string of pearls rested delicately against her collarbone, a timeless accessory that reflected both her status and refined taste. Her salt-and-pepper hair was styled into an impeccable undo, each strand meticulously in place.
Marybelle, ever the picture of composed sophistication, stood beside her in a chic, cream-colored wrap dress that highlighted her statuesque frame. Her honey-blonde waves framed her face as her hazel eyes burned with determination. She was the embodiment of effortless grace, her outfit a seamless blend of classic elegance and modern refinement.
Lainey, in contrast, radiated an air of playful defiance. Dressed in a striking emerald jumpsuit with contemporary cutouts, she exuded a confident, daring charm. Her youthful energy crackled in the air as she gestured animatedly, her hazel eyes glinting with mischief. Her golden waves cascaded freely over her shoulders, complementing the vibrant aura she carried with her.
His mother and sisters stood in a heated discussion with the maid and chef, and to his surprise, another woman—one he did not recognize—was at the center of it all. The lively exchange filled the vast space, a stark contrast to the usual order of the household.Grayson stood there, momentarily dumbfounded by the commotion. His mother, always composed, was gesturing with rare intensity, while Marybelle and Lainey chimed in with their own fervent opinions. The maid and chef looked torn between amusement and concern, while the unknown woman, standing her ground in a sleek black pantsuit and a white silk blouse, seemed unfazed by the energy surrounding her.It was a rare sight—his usually poised family caught up in something so animated, so unfiltered.His mother turned first, a warm smile spreading across her face as she stepped toward him. Without hesitation, she wrapped him in a gentle hug, her embrace familiar and reassuring. "Grayson, dear, you're just in time," she said smoothly. "I'd like you to meet Elizabeth Rhodes, our event coordinator."She gestured toward the unknown woman, who offered a poised nod in greeting. Before Grayson could process the introduction, his mother turned back to Elizabeth, resuming the conversation as if it made perfect sense to move forward without further context.Grayson raised a hand, stopping her mid-sentence. "Mother?" His voice held a hint of exasperation. "Why is she in my house?"His mother let out a small sigh, as if his question was an unnecessary obstacle to her plans. "Darling, I didn't think you'd be in town," she admitted with a calm, practiced smile. "I'm hosting one of my charity events, and your home is simply the perfect venue."Grayson blinked, his jaw tightening. "You didn't think to tell me?"She waved a hand dismissively, as if his reaction was overblown. "It slipped my mind. Everything has been so busy, and honestly, I assumed you wouldn't mind. Elizabeth has been handling all the details."
Grayson exhaled slowly, glancing at his sisters, who were watching the exchange with a mix of amusement and anticipation. Their mother, sensing resistance, cast a pleading look toward them, silently asking for backup.Lainey, never one to miss an opportunity, stepped in first, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. "Grayson, don't be so dramatic. Besides, if you'd actually been around more, maybe you would have heard about this sooner."He narrowed his eyes at her, but before he could respond, Marybelle chimed in, her tone light yet pointed. "Speaking of which, I finally finished my master's in Art History. Not that you'd know, considering you've been buried in work."Lainey nodded, leaning against the counter. "And I'm doing great in the advertising department at the firm. Keeping the family business relevant, just like Dad would've wanted." She shot him a playful look. "Unlike someone who's always conveniently out of town."Grayson scoffed, straightening his stance. "I may not be here all the time, but this is still my home. My name is on the deed, not yours." His gaze flicked between his sisters and his mother. "Maybe that's something worth remembering before making plans that don't involve consulting me."Marybelle tilted her head, clearly unfazed. "Oh, we remember, dear brother. But maybe if you actually spent time here, you wouldn't feel so out of the loop."Lainey smirked. "Yeah, you being gone all the time kinda makes you an absentee landlord. You should be thanking us for keeping things lively.""And I'm doing great in the advertising department at the firm. Keeping the family business relevant, just like Dad would've wanted." She shot him a playful look. "Unlike someone who's always conveniently out of town."Grayson sighed, running a hand through his hair. He had walked into a battle he wasn't prepared for, and his sisters knew exactly how to turn the situation against him.Still, he wasn't ready to let the subject drop. He leveled his gaze at his mother again. "That still doesn't explain why she's in my house."
Elizabeth, who had been quietly observing, arched a brow, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. There was a glint in her eyes that made Grayson uneasy, as if she were sizing him up, calculating.His mother, catching on to his discomfort, quickly jumped back in. "Grayson, darling, Elizabeth is here because she's helping coordinate the charity gala. The venue has to be perfect, and no place is more fitting than your home."He crossed his arms, clearly unimpressed. "And when exactly were you planning to tell me about this?"His mother waved a dismissive hand, the gesture entirely too nonchalant for his liking. "I assumed you'd be too busy to notice. And honestly, I didn't think it would be an issue. We've hosted events here before."Marybelle and Lainey exchanged amused glances before Lainey decided to add fuel to the fire. "She does have a point. You're barely here anyway, so what's the big deal?"Grayson shot her a glare, but before he could respond, Elizabeth stepped forward, her voice smooth and composed. "Mr. Steal, I assure you, everything is well-organized. Your mother has impeccable taste, and I am simply here to ensure her vision comes to life."Grayson exhaled sharply. He wasn't sure what irritated him more—the fact that his house had been commandeered for an event he knew nothing about, or the fact that Elizabeth was looking at him like he was an obstacle to be managed rather than the owner of the estate. He had the distinct feeling that this was far from over.With a resigned sigh, Grayson walked over to the fridge and poured himself a glass of juice. What he really wanted was something stronger, but it was far too early for that. He took a slow sip, his gaze flicking back to his mother and sisters, who were clearly ignoring his demands.With a huff, he finally conceded, but not without setting some ground rules. "Fine," he said, setting the glass down with a decisive clink. "This is not up for debate or negotiation. Do not use my house without my knowledge if I'm not home. Thank you, or I will remove your access to the property. Is that clear?"
His mother and sisters stared at him in surprise, momentarily taken aback. For a moment, he thought they would argue, but then, with knowing smiles, they all agreed.As if nothing had happened, they quickly resumed their conversation, now discussing color patterns for the tablecloths as if this had been their plan all along.His mother then pulled him aside, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "It's okay to get out there again, darling. And Elizabeth is single too."