His name was Nathaniel

64

A few days had passed since the tense meeting at the Donovan Mansion, but the weight of it still clung to Nathaniel like a shadow he couldn't shake. His father's words—sharp, cold, and unrelenting—echoed in his mind as if they were on a loop. The uncertainty that had settled in his chest during the meeting had only grown, gnawing at him in ways he hadn't expected.

Nathaniel sat in his penthouse, staring blankly at his phone, where Adaliya's messages were waiting for a response. They had been texting throughout the week, but lately, Nathaniel found himself distracted, his thoughts consumed by the pressure of the family business and the looming expectations of becoming the head of the Donovan legacy.

Adaliya, perceptive as ever, had noticed. They were on a video call that evening, her face glowing on the screen as she worked on something in the background. But her gaze kept flickering toward Nathaniel, concern etched into her features.

"You've been quiet lately," Adaliya said, glancing up from her laptop. "Is everything alright?"

Nathaniel hesitated, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. He could sense her worry, but the thought of opening up about what was really bothering him felt... too heavy. Too complicated. Instead, he forced a small smile and shrugged.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just work stuff."

Adaliya raised an eyebrow, not convinced. "Are you sure? You seem off. You know you can talk to me, right?"

Nathaniel shifted in his chair, brushing her concern aside with practiced ease. "I'm fine, Adaliya. Really. It's just been a busy week."

Her frown deepened, but she let it go, knowing that pushing him wouldn't help. "Alright... but you know I'm here if you need me."

"I know," Nathaniel replied softly, his smile more genuine this time. "Thank you."

After the call ended, Nathaniel stared out the window, the city lights twinkling below him. He wanted to talk to Adaliya, to tell her about the conversation with his father and the pressure that was suffocating him, but something held him back. It was as if speaking the words out loud would make everything too real, too overwhelming.

The next morning, Nathaniel decided to pay a visit to someone he hadn't seen in a while—his grandfather. The man had always been a quiet presence in Nathaniel's life, a stark contrast to the force of nature that was Edward Donovan. There had always been a sense of regret in his grandfather's eyes, a sadness that Nathaniel never fully understood until now.

When Nathaniel arrived at his grandfather's modest yet dignified home, he was greeted with a warm smile and a firm handshake. The old man still had that quiet strength about him, though his movements were slower now, his face lined with age.

"Nathaniel," his grandfather greeted, his voice calm and steady. "It's good to see you."

"You too, Grandfather," Nathaniel replied, following him into the sitting room. They settled into their chairs, and after a few moments of silence, Nathaniel spoke up.

"I wanted to talk to you about something," he began, his voice hesitant. "It's about my father."

His grandfather nodded slowly, his expression somber. "Go on."

Nathaniel took a deep breath, recounting the meeting with Edward—the talk about the business, the pressure to take over, and his father's harsh words about their family legacy. When he finished, the room was quiet, the weight of the conversation hanging in the air.

His grandfather sighed, his eyes distant as he leaned back in his chair. "I see that Edward hasn't changed much. He's still as hard as ever."

Nathaniel glanced at him, confused by the sadness in his voice. "What do you mean?"

The old man's gaze met Nathaniel's, filled with regret. "Your father and I... we didn't always see eye to eye. I was too harsh with him when he was younger. I pushed him to be strong, to be successful, but I did it in the wrong way. I thought I was preparing him for the world, but instead, I pushed him away."

Nathaniel listened intently, surprised by the vulnerability in his grandfather's words.

"I see now that I made mistakes," his grandfather continued, his voice heavy with remorse. "I turned Edward into the man he is today—hard, unfeeling. He's a product of my failures as a father. And now... I see you struggling with the same weight I placed on him."

Nathaniel's chest tightened as his grandfather spoke, the realization sinking in. His father's coldness, his obsession with success—it all stemmed from the way he had been raised. And now, Nathaniel was caught in the middle of that same cycle.

"I'm sorry, Nathaniel," his grandfather said softly. "I see you as a way to redeem myself, to fix the mistakes I made with your father. I don't want you to carry the same burden."

Nathaniel swallowed hard, his emotions swirling. He didn't know what to say, but his grandfather's words had stirred something in him—something he wasn't ready to face just yet.

Still conflicted by the meeting with his grandfather, Nathaniel received a message from Violet later that day, insisting they meet for lunch. He wasn't in the mood for her usual teasing, but maybe a distraction was what he needed.

They met at a small, trendy café downtown, Violet already seated when Nathaniel arrived. She greeted him with a grin, but it quickly faded when she noticed the tension in his face.

"Alright, what's going on?" Violet asked, crossing her arms. "You look like you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders."

Nathaniel forced a smile. "It's nothing."

Violet wasn't buying it. "You're a terrible liar. Spill."

Nathaniel sighed, deciding to give her a vague version of the truth. "I've just got a lot on my mind. The business, the family... everything."

Violet raised an eyebrow. "The family business again? Seriously, Nathaniel, you're letting this get to you."

Before he could respond, a couple entered the café and caught his attention. The woman, her belly round with pregnancy, smiled as she and her partner sat down nearby. Nathaniel's gaze lingered on them for a moment longer than he realized, something stirring deep within him.

A thought crossed his mind—would he ever get to that point? Would his health even allow him to one day have a family of his own? His weakened heart, the years of medical concerns... they suddenly seemed like insurmountable obstacles.

Violet noticed his distracted look and followed his gaze, her expression softening when she saw the couple. "What's going on in that head of yours?" she asked quietly.

Nathaniel blinked, pulling himself from his thoughts. "I just... I wonder if I'll ever get to that point. A family, kids... What if I don't have enough time?"

Violet's face darkened, and she leaned forward, her tone sharp. "Don't you dare think like that, Nathaniel. You're stronger than you give yourself credit for. You've survived so much already."

Nathaniel didn't respond, his thoughts still swirling. But Violet wasn't done. "You're not your father. You're not some legacy that needs to be fulfilled. You're your own person, and you're going to live your life the way you want to. Got it?"

Nathaniel smiled faintly at her fierce protectiveness. "Yeah. Got it."

Later that evening, Violet and Nathaniel headed back to her luxurious flat, where she insisted they spend the night unwinding. She popped in a movie, and they settled onto the couch, a large bowl of popcorn between them.

For the first time in days, Nathaniel allowed himself to relax. As the movie played and the tension slowly faded, he realized how lucky he was to have Violet in his corner—someone who wouldn't let him fall too far into his own doubts.