Page 60 of Falling for Mr. Grump, the Big City Billionaire

"Instead of a full buyout, I suggest we become silent partners. Preserve the town's character, invest strategically, but allow local businesses to maintain their autonomy."

The room erupts. Not with agreement, but with a cacophony of objections.

"Inefficient!"

"Unprofitable!"

"This isn't how we do business, Troy!"

I stand my ground.

The same stubborn resolve that my father used to build this empire now defies its most sacred rules. I think of Skye—her passion, her food truck, her unwavering commitment to her community. Something shifts inside me.

"Our traditional models are outdated," I say, my voice cutting through the noise. "Small towns like Seaside Cove represent authenticity. Tourists are seeking experiences, not corporate replicas."

My mind drifts to the community art show, to the sunrise I watched with Skye, to the genuine connections I'd witnessed. This isn’t just about business anymore.

This is personal.

The board members exchange skeptical glances. I can almost hear their thoughts:Who is this Troy Bellamy, and what has he done with our ruthless corporate raider?

But I'm done explaining. I'm done apologizing for seeing value beyond spreadsheets and profit margins.

"We're doing this," I state, brooking no argument. "And I'll be managing these acquisitions directly from Seaside Cove."

I explain my exact plans.

"You want us to become a silent partner to prevent a buyout?" Henderson’s voice rises, a pitch of disbelief cutting through the room. "Troy, that goes against everything our company stands for."

I resist the urge to run a hand through my hair. Instead, I maintain my stoic CEO posture, feet shoulder-width apart, hands clasped behind my back.

"Seaside Cove isn't just another acquisition," I explain, my tone clipped and professional. "It's a community with potential. Our traditional approach would destroy its economic ecosystem."

He scrolls through some financial projections and hears several voices. "How can we approve this? We're talking about restructuring our entire small-town acquisition strategy for... what? Less profit than we’re used to?”

Mona sighs, “We will have to vote, Troy can you please leave the room while we discuss and get back?”

***

Hours later, I'm pacing in my minimalist New York apartment. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcase the city's skyline - a world away from Seaside Cove's quaint charm. My phone sits on the marble kitchen counter, waiting.

The silence is deafening.

I replay our last conversations, Skye's defiant stance, her unwavering commitment to her community. She'd challenged everything I thought I knew about business, about success. A small-town woman who saw value beyond profit margins.

Ridiculous, I tell myself.She's just a distraction.

But even my internal monologue sounds unconvincing.

My phone vibrates. Mona’s name flashes on the screen, and I pick up.

"They're in," she says without preamble. "The board agreed to your proposal."

For a moment, I'm stunned into silence. Then professional satisfaction kicks in. "Excellent. I'll draft the formal documents …"

"Troy," Mona interrupts, "this isn't just about documents. This is about you. About what you want."

This is not Mona the board member. This is Mona, my sister.

---