Page 127 of My Big, Fat, Hot Billionaire Enemy
I glance at Lucy. She looks hesitant, but nods slightly. “Okay, Dad. But after you talk to Christopher, you’re going home. Doctor’s orders. And you’re not coming to the gala tonight.”
Richard waves a dismissive hand but allows Lucy to guide him towards a small, empty auxiliary room off the main ballroom.
“Good luck,” Lucy tells me, before departing.
I glance at Elijah, who has remained nearby, and give him a subtle nod, indicating for him to remain outside.
Inside the small room, Richard sinks onto a velvet armchair, looking suddenly frail.
He gestures for me to take the opposite chair.
I do.
The silence stretches for a moment.
“She’s doing well,” Richard says finally, his voice quiet but clear. “Lucy. Stepping up. Taking charge.”
“She is,” I agree.
He studies me for a long moment, his blue eyes so similar to Lucy’s. “I misjudged you, Christopher.Held onto old bitterness for too long. Let Mark’s poison cloud my view.” He sighs. “You could have destroyed us. Especially after finding out about… those damned SPEs. God, what a fool I was.” He shakes his head. “But you didn’t. You helped her. You’re helping the company. Why?”
The blunt question hangs in the air. Why? Because his daughter burrowed under my skin? Because I’m tired of my father’s destructive games? Because I see a chance to build something instead of just tearing things down?
“Because it’s a sound strategic investment,” I reply, falling back on business logic. The truth is far more complicated. “And because Lucy earned my respect.”
He nods slowly, accepting the partial answer. “She respects you, too. More than that, I think.” He leans forward slightly. “I know our families have… history. Bad blood. And I know Mark will never approve. But Lucy… she deserves happiness. Stability. Someone who sees her for who she is, not just the Hammond name.” He meets my gaze directly. “You seem to be that someone. Unexpectedly.” He gives a small, tired smile. “You have my blessing, Christopher. For what it’s worth. For the partnership. And for…her.”
His blessing. Offered freely. Earned, perhaps.
It lands with unexpected weight.
Approval from her father, the man whose legacy she’s fighting to save.
It stands in stark, brutal contrast to the vitriol and threats from my own.
The familiar ache of that broken connection surfaces, sharp and unwelcome.
I blink a few times, feeling unexpectedly emotional. But I don’t allow thetears to fall.
“Thank you, Richard,” I manage, keeping my voice neutral despite the complicated swirl of emotions inside.
Our conversation ends shortly after. I help him to the door, where Lucy is waiting anxiously. She herds him towards the exit, promising to visit him later before the gala, fussing over him like a mother hen.
He allows it, looking weary but somehow… lighter.
After they leave, I stand there for a moment, processing.
His blessing.
My father’s curse.
The duality of it all.
I find Lucy back in the ballroom, overseeing the placement of table centerpieces. She looks focused, back in CEO mode.
I walk up behind her.
“He okay?” I ask quietly.
