To Be With You : Beneath Your Paradise

Chapter Twelve

                               Jack

                                ~☯~

I turn the wheel slowly, pulling into the long driveway where a neat line of gleaming luxury cars reflect the warm amber of the driveway lamps. My own black Mercedes-Benz S-Class hums to a stop at the far end, its chrome grille catching the light like a quiet statement . I slip the gear into park, cut the engine, and for a moment sit there listening to the soft ticking of the cooling engine.

Keys in hand, I remove my cap, glancing into the rearview mirror. I smooth my hair back into place, a precise motion, almost ritualistic. The door closes with a muted thud. I tug at the hem of my light-blue short-sleeve shirt, ironing the creases down with my palms, the buttons left open over a crisp white tee. My loose white trousers sway lightly with each step, the silver eyelets of my sneakers glinting as they catch the lamplight.

The front door opens before I could reach for it. A maid in a neat black dress and white apron greets me with a polite nod. I return it in kind, stepping over the threshold into the cool hush of the house. The air was faintly scented with sandalwood, and the dim lighting cast deep shadows across the polished wood floors. It was quiet here, the sort of quiet that wasn’t comforting.

I bend to remove my shoes, and the maid extends her hands, taking them from me without a word before placing them neatly on the shoe rack.

Before I could even take a step inside, the silence was split open by a loud, sugar-coated voice.

“My dear Jack! Goodness—finally!”

A woman comes toward me, her long blonde hair bouncing as she moves, the hem of her silk dress fluttering with each quick step. She wraps her arms around me tightly—too tightly. I give an awkward laugh, offering a polite smile as I ease her off.

“Where’s my dad?” I ask, my gaze drifting for a moment—catching her tugging her neckline up in a way that drew more attention to it than before.My eyebrows tightens, my mind releasing a quiet, irritated sigh.

She was dressed younger than her years, the fabric clinging in all the places meant to provoke. Unbelievable, I thought. This is the kind of woman he chooses.

The maid, still present, gestures toward the living room. I walk alongside her, ignoring the blonde’s bright chatter trailing off behind us.

In the living room, my father sits at the head of a long table scattered with papers, eyes locked on a document. Without looking up, he turns a page and speaks.

“So… were you planning to not come over today?”

“I was busy with lessons,” I reply.

My father set the papers down with a firm slap, removes his glasses, and crosses the room. Leaning close, he speaks low in my ear.

“You’re doing the right thing… studying.”

A heavy hand lands on my arm—not affectionate, but a grip that was warning.

“But next time you intentionally miss my calls…” His eyes meet mine, and an eerie smile creeps across his face. “…I know you don’t want to see me angry.”

“Dinner’s ready!” the woman chimes, breaking the air. She slides her arm through my father’s.

“Let’s eat before it gets cold.”

Without another glance, my father moves toward the dining room, the woman clinging to his side.

Right, I thought. Almost forgot how cold and nonchalant the man I’m supposed to call father can be.

I follow them to the dining room. The table was wide, a precise arrangement of silver cutlery and candles, dishes steaming in their place. I take my place opposite the woman, with my father at the center. The air was colder here, the faint smile still lingering on his face as his eyes cut through the space between us.

“Is the food not up to your taste?” the woman asks, her hand nearly brushing mine. I draw my hand back and pick up my knife and fork.

“No. It’s perfectly fine,” I say with a thin smile, slicing into the pork ribs.

Silence falls again until my father spoke.

“I want you to join the company. It’s about time you stopped dragging your feet on the matter and started learning about the business you’ll be inheriting.”

“I’m too busy with—”

“Studying? Ballet? Partying? Which is it—or all three?” My father’s tone carried a mocking edge.

I set my knife down. “Give me some time.”

“For what?” The gaze was sharp, unrelenting. The woman dabs her lips with a napkin, her fingers trembling.

“With all the hanging around you’ve been doing with Eden, I thought you’d have learned something from him by now,” my father continues.

“Darling—” the woman interjects gently.

“As much as he’s your friend, he’s also your competitor. Or do I need to drill that into your head?” His voice rises slightly.

“No, sir,” I say flatly.

“Their Corporation is gaining ground fast. Their quarterly profits have surged twelve percent in just two cycles, thanks to their acquisition strategy in Asia. Our market share is holding, but it won’t last if they keep moving this aggressively. I built this empire on solid ground, and I’m not about to sit back and watch it crumble.”

He stands from the table. “Consider that party of yours the last.”

The woman stays seated for a brief moment, her gaze flicking toward me. She mouths Don’t take his words too personal, before rising to her feet and hurrying after him.

I sit there in the now-empty dining room, my fingers tightening around the napkin in my hands until the fabric twisted, frustration knotting in my chest.