Page 65 of The Alpha's Crimson Vow

His voice drops, final and unwavering.

“That will not happen under my watch.”

I inhale slowly.

I’ve always known the elders were obsessed with their outdated traditions. They’ve resented me from the moment I took charge,not because I was incompetent, but because I was a woman. Because I had no husband to “lead” me.

But now? I see the bigger picture.

Lawrence isn’t loyal to me. He isn’t loyal to Frank. His only loyalty is to the elders. To the name.

I let the silence stretch, then nod slowly. “I’ll present a plan to assure the board that the company will be just as profitable without the partnership.” My voice is calm, decisive. “But one way or another, the partnership with Alex ends.”

Lawrence doesn’t break eye contact. He studies me, his jaw tightening slightly, as if weighing whether to push further. Then, finally, he exhales through his nose.

“You’re stubborn,” he says.

“You’re observant,” I reply dryly.

He just continues staring, as though searching for a crack, a hesitation, something to work with. But he won’t find it.

After a moment, he leans back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other. “I hope, for your sake, that your plan is as solid as your convictions.”

“It will be.”

A beat passes. Then his gaze sweeps over the sea of flowers once more. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something about the way his eyes linger on them, as if piecing together some puzzle only he can see.

Then he turns back to me, his voice dropping to that low, measured tone of his. “It’s strange.” A pause, a flicker of something knowing in his stare. “When this man was pretending to be a janitor—for reasons I neither know nor understand—you seemed determined to be with him. And now that he’s revealed his wealth, now that he’s making his intentions blatantly clear, it seems you want nothing more than to rid yourself of him.”

My jaw tightens. I move my focus to my computer screen, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. I won’t engage with this.

“That is a private matter,” I say curtly, dismissively.

Lawrence barely acknowledges my words. He just leans back, completely unfazed. “Well,” he says, voice casual, like he’s discussing something as trivial as the weather, “the elders have been watching. And from all indications, he’s certainly a good fit.”

My fingers curl into a fist on the desk.

“He’s also quite clearly after you,” he continues. “And we are all in agreement that the family and the company would benefit if you married him.”

My eyes snap back to him.

The sheer audacity.

That sharp, grinding irritation surges through me, hot and bitter. But I force myself to stay still, my expression carefully composed.

Lawrence, of course, just presses on, completely oblivious—or worse, indifferent—to how infuriating his words are. “He would be a strong partner to you,” he muses. “And an excellent leader for the company. He has the approval of the board. And of the elders.”

The misogyny practically dripping off his words.

That’s their way, these elders. Always looking for a man to take the reins, always scheming to push me into the background. It doesn’t matter how much I’ve done for this company. In their eyes, I’ll never be enough—not on my own.

I sit up straighter, my spine rigid with defiance. “I am the leader of this company, Uncle Lawrence.” My voice is cold, unwavering. “Not Alex. Not any man.”

A heavy silence falls between us.

Lawrence stares at me for a long, unreadable moment.

Then—without another word—he rises from his chair and strides toward the door.

---