Page 72 of Falling for Mr. Grump, the Big City Billionaire

Because when I leave for Seaside Cove this time, it will be voluntarily.

I’ll be choosing to.

I take a deep breath, straightening my dark maroon Luigi Borrelli tie.

Old Troy would have scoffed at the very idea of relocating to a town where the closest Michelin-starred restaurant is probably a food truck.

Current Troy—the one who's fallen hard for Skye Martinez—sees possibility where he once saw only limitations.

My sisters' cars are already parked in their private spaces.

I can already anticipate their reactions: shock, skepticism, corporate strategy discussions.

I stalk into the board meeting room.

Drew sits by the door, looking relaxed in ways I've never been. Beach living has softened his edges, something I would have criticized mere months ago. Now? I'm beginning to understand.

"Troy." He greets me with a nod. "I can’t believe you dragged me from my home here because of your important news.”

I chuckle. “You all need to hear this at the same time.”

The boardroom is bright, with large windows showcasing the city view.

Mona sits on the couch, looking elegant even in casual wear. Lillian stands near the window, her analytical gaze already sizing me up.

"So," Lillian says, her tone professional even in this setting, "you've called a family meeting."

I sit, maintaining my posture—back straight, shoulders squared. Old habits die hard, even when everything else about me is changing.

"I'm relocating to Seaside Cove," I state, watching their expressions. "Permanently."

Silence.

Drew chuckles softly, understanding something my sisters haven't caught yet.

“Permanently?” Mona asks bewildered.

“You truly have fallen for the food truck girl, haven’t you?” Lillian asks and I nod.

“I have.”

Mona looks amused. A food truck owner? The unspoken judgment hangs in the air.

"She's extraordinary," I find myself defending her. "Smart. Passionate. She fights for her community in ways I never understood before. She's changed how I see everything."

My confession hangs in the room. The Troy Bellamy they know—corporate, driven, emotionally reserved—is admitting to falling in love.

"I love her," I say simply. No elaborate explanation, no corporate strategy. Just a pure, honest declaration.

“And that is what you’ve called us here to say?” Mona asks and I grunt.

“There's more.”

Silence.

The boardroom feels suffocating, even through the pristine glass walls of our headquarters. I've never felt more out of place than I do right now, presenting a plan that goes against everything my family's business has always stood for.

My sisters exchange looks that could freeze hell. Mona, the younger one, taps her manicured nails against the mahogany conference table. Lillian, typically quiet, has her arms crossed — a silent judgment that speaks volumes.

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