Page 2 of A Win-Win Situation

"Hi, son." He gestures toward the chair in front of his desk, indicating that I should take a seat. Without a word, I comply, feeling a bit nervous as I settle into the chair. His office looks as it always does—neat and impeccably organized, with stacks of files and papers lining the shelves. On the walls hang photos of Liam and I over the years. I can't help but recall the memories associated with those photos—our laughter, the adventures, and the times when everything felt perfect. But alongside those warm memories, a sense of emptiness and sadness lingers,creating a heavy knot in my chest that makes me rigid. He sits back down in his chair, leans forward, and steeples his fingers in front of his face, regarding me with a patient expression.

"Harlow came by this morning and . . ." I trail off and his smile instantly vanishes.

"You're here to ask me about the will." His voice is low and measured.

I can’t get married, but I can’t disappoint him either.

"I don’t want to get married yet."

"Why is that?" My uncle’s expression remains neutral.

"You can’t be serious." I scoff. "Firstly, I don’t know of anyone that wants to marry me, or I, them, and secondly, I won’t marry just for the sake of it."

He chuckles. "Enta zaki yaLucas, and a very handsome fellow, you can easily find a good wife. If not, I will give you a hand."

I stare at him, incredulously. It doesn’t matter if I’msmart. I thought being "asked" to marry was one thing, but having him arrange it is an entirely different story.

When he sees my expression, he begins to laugh, but it quickly devolves into a wheezy, coughing fit, his face turning slightly red as he struggles. As I stand up to help, he raises his hand, signaling for me to stay. After a few moments, he recovers and speaks again.

"I’ve taught you well, Lucas. You’re a man of pride. A man with goals, and a man who knows how to follow his instincts, but you’re incredibly stubborn; a mule has nothing on you," he says with a hoarse voice.

I huff and look away.I’m not stubborn.I’m just . . . ambitious.

"I know you’ll take good care of my empire when I’m gone. You’re doing it already, but I want you to have someone by yourside." He raises his shaking hands. "With me gone, who will continue my legacy?"

With me gone, who will continue my legacy?

I know he sees me and Liam as his sons, and as much as the business is his legacy, I know we are too, so the thought of him gone is like a knife to the chest.

I've always believed in upholding our family name, but now, faced with the pressure to marry, it's as if tradition has become a suffocating chain around my neck. It feels like a betrayal of everything I imagined. The dreams of companionship, of building a life together, now feel tainted by the looming shadow of duty. I will continue his legacy, yes, but the idea of being forced into marriage as a means to an end infuriates me. I won’t be a chess piece, manipulated for someone else's agenda. I don’t want to marry just to secure a legacy.

"I’m not a puppet to be manipulated for your own means, and I won’t marry just to secure a legacy," I retort sharply, almost regretting my tone. Almost. "I have my own plans and goals, and I won’t let anyone dictate my life. You said it yourself, I’m already taking care of everything. Is that not enough?"

My uncle's smile fades, and his gaze turns icy. "You may be my son, Lucas, but you are also a crucial part of my business."

I shift uncomfortably, knowing exactly where this conversation is heading. "So, would you let what you've built fall into the hands of some stranger if I don’t marry?" I ask, trying to appeal to his sense of family loyalty.

"You forget I have two sons," he replies coolly. He’s always had a soft spot for Liam. In his eyes, he can’t do much wrong. He’s just "a lost soul" who needs guidance, but I know Liam would never step up to a responsibility this grand, nor could he. Drinking, partying, and fucking the latest supermodel is what he does best. He knows nothing about business, and as much as Ilove my brother, I would never allow him to ruin this, and my uncle knows that.

"We both know he isn’t fit to lead anything, and he would never agree to marry," I say, feeling a sense of desperation creeping in. This is not the first time my uncle has brought up the subject of marriage. Although, I had hoped that he would change his mind.

"Then it’s up to you to make the right decision." His gaze shifts up, away from me, almost as if he’s asking God for help. He looks back at me, his face more stern than before. "The news of my illness has gotten out and our stakeholders have started to talk. This is their chance to stake a claim and change the line of succession. When I say they, I mean Michel Beumont. He’s like a lion waiting to attack, and my cancer is his greatest opening. Even though the rest of them like you enough, and know I want you to take over, Michel has convinced them that a vote is necessary, that we have to stick to the marriage clause and evaluate you, no matter the situation. That’s why we need them to trust you more. This started as a family business and all of the stakeholders are old fashioned. They respect a family man more and they will vote against you if they don’t trust you. We can’t afford that." His tone is final.

Curious, I press for more details. "Why is that?"

"A family man is going to be more reliable and is often associated with stronger values, like loyalty, dedication, and integrity. Being seen as a loving and committed family man will convey a strong sense of character. They will believe you work not just for the hotels, but also for your family’s future. This will strengthen your long-term commitments and stability in your business relationships."

"I’m the same man with or without a wife. Therefore, my choices will be the same."

"You say that now, Lucas, but reality doesn't bend to your wishes. I won't let your stubbornness jeopardize everything I've built. Marrying and securing your position is not negotiable; otherwise, you might as well walk away from everything entirely." There's a flicker of emotion behind his eyes — whether it's guilt or something more elusive, I can't quite discern. However, it doesn't deter him. "Find her, or I will."

I glare at him, seething with frustration. How can he do this to me? My hands flex at my sides as I try to get a grasp on my emotions. He meets my gaze defiantly, refusing to back down. This is completely insane. Yet, deep down, I recognize the weight of his expectations, and I can't afford to disappoint him. Whether I want it to or not, it’s happening, and while I won't let him dictate my life, especially when it comes to choosing a wife, I must find a way to navigate this, no matter what it takes.

With gritted teeth, I reluctantly nod in agreement.

"You’re making the right choice." A sly smile plays on his lips. "Look on the bright side, son, perhaps you'll find some enjoyment in married life."

Yeah, right.

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