Page 55 of No Mane, No Gain

Moments later, Marco and Isabella entered the room. His father, ever the businessman, wore a sharp suit despite the latehour. Isabella, elegant as always in a designer dress, her silver-streaked hair perfectly coiffed.

“Chaos, darling,” Isabella began, moving to embrace her son. Chaos stepped back, maintaining his distance.

“Mother. Father.” His voice was cool and controlled. “I think we need to talk.”

Marco’s eyebrows rose at his son’s tone. “Indeed we do. Your sister-”

“My sister,” Chaos cut in, his voice sharp, “has gone too far. Her behavior is not only childish but potentially damaging to my relationship and AmTech’s reputation.”

Isabella’s face fell. “Chaos, we know Tia can be... difficult. But she’s your sister. Surely we can work this out as a family?”

Chaos laughed, the sound bitter and hollow. “From where I’m standing, it looks like we’re enabling a spoiled brat who thinks she can manipulate everyone around her without consequences.”

Marco gave a frustrated growl. “Son, I understand your anger, but we’re still your parents.”

“Then act like it,” Chaos snapped. He took a deep breath, trying to rein in his temper. His lion rumbled within him, agitated by the conflict. “I’m not a child anymore. I’m the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company and the leader of our pride. It’s time Tia started respecting that. The only way that’s going to happen is if there are consequences to her actions.”

Isabella reached out, her hand hovering uncertainly before dropping back to her side. “Of course, we respect you, darling. We’re so proud of everything you’ve accomplished.”

“Then respect my choices,” Chaos said, his voice softening slightly. “Olive isn’t some passing fancy. She’s intelligent, kind, and challenges me in ways no one ever has. She makes me want to be a better man, a better leader.”

Marco and Isabella exchanged a look, a silent conversation passing between them.

“We like Olive,” Marco said carefully. “She’s a lovely young woman. But Tia is your sister. Surely you don’t expect us to choose between our children?”

Chaos’s jaw clenched. “I’m not asking you to choose. I’m telling you that if Tia doesn’t stop her childish games, I will cut her out of my life. And if you continue to excuse her behavior, I’ll have no choice but to distance myself from you as well.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Isabella’s eyes filled with tears while Marco’s face hardened into an unreadable mask.

“You can’t be serious,” Isabella whispered.

“I’ve never been more serious in my life,” Chaos replied, his voice steady. “I love you both, but I won’t let Tia’s jealousy and pettiness ruin what I have with Olive. It’s time for her to grow up and face the consequences of her actions.”

Marco cleared his throat, his voice gruff with emotion. “What do you want us to do?”

Chaos met his father’s gaze, unflinching. “Talk to her. Make her understand that her behavior is unacceptable. And if she can’t respect my choices and my relationship with Olive, then she needs to stay away from both of us.”

Isabella dabbed at her eyes with a delicate handkerchief. “We’ll talk to her, darling. We promise.”

Chaos nodded. “Thank you. That’s all I ask.”

As his parents left, promising to handle the situation, Chaos sank into his leather chair. He felt drained, the weight of the confrontation settling over him like a heavy cloak.

His phone buzzed again, this time with a message from Olive:

Hey, you. How’d it go with your parents? Everything okay?

A smile tugged at Chaos’s lips, warmth blooming in his chest. Even in the midst of all this drama, Olive’s concern for him shone through. He typed out a quick reply:

It went as well as could be expected. I’ll fill you in later. How about dinner tomorrow night? I have something special planned.

Her response came almost immediately:

Ooh, color me intrigued! Can’t wait.

Chaos’s smile widened. He may have just had one of the most difficult conversations of his life, but knowing Olive was in his corner made it all worth it.

The next evening, Chaos stood in his penthouse kitchen, surveying the scene with a critical eye. The dining table was set with fine china and crystal, a centerpiece of fragrant roses adding a romantic touch. Soft jazz played in the background, and the scent of garlic and herbs filled the air as his personal chef, Pierre, put the finishing touches on their meal.

---