2025-07-04 07:03:47Michael stared at Henry, unsure if he heard him correctly.
Become the head of the Donovan family?
The words echoed in his ears like a distant drum, growing louder, heavier with each beat. He blinked, searching the old man’s face for a sign of humour; anything to prove this was just a cruel joke pulled in a hospital bed.
But Henry’s face was calm. Serious.
Michael lowered his gaze. “Sir… I don’t think I understand.”
Henry’s hand, frail but still firm, gripped his. “You heard me.”
Michael shook his head gently. “All I want is for you to get better,” he said quietly. “That’s all that matters to me. Please don’t talk like this.”
But Henry didn’t smile. He didn’t let go either.
Instead, he let out a slow breath and stared at the ceiling for a long moment, as though trying to gather the right words from the air.
“It wasn’t an accident,” he said finally. “Pairing you with Sophia.”
Michael’s eyes snapped back to him.
“What?”
Henry looked at him again, eyes sharp despite the weakness in his body. “From the moment I pulled you out of that wreckage years ago, I knew. There was something in your eyes, Michael. Something rare. Strong. You had nothing; no name, no memory, but there was something alive in you. A quiet force.”
Michael swallowed hard. The room suddenly felt smaller.
“You think you’re just paying a debt,” Henry continued. “But you’ve given this family more honour than any of them. You work with dignity. You speak with care. You’re not moved by money or power. That’s what the Donovan name needs. Not just blood but vision, heart, grit.”
Michael was still kneeling by the hospital bed, speechless.
“I’m not… I’m not special,” he whispered. “I’m just someone you saved.”
Henry gave a soft, tired smile. “You’ll understand in time.”
With a deep breath, he gestured towards the door. “Send Sophia in.”
Michael hesitated, but nodded. He rose slowly and stepped out into the hallway.
The cold air outside the room hit him first, followed quickly by a voice that never failed to chill his bones.
“Well, that took long enough,” Victoria sneered, arms crossed, her lips curled with disdain.
Michael didn’t respond.
She took a step closer. “What did he say? Told you to keep mopping the floors in heaven, did he?”
Michael met her eyes but stayed silent. That only irritated her more.
“You really think this will last?” she hissed. “You think because he’s soft on you, you suddenly belong here? You’re still the stray he dragged in. Nothing more.”
Before he could reply, Sophia brushed past him without a word and walked into the room, closing the door behind her.
Michael stood in the hallway, heart heavy, unsure of what the future held. He leaned against the wall, trying to process the last few minutes. It all felt like too much.
Inside, Sophia took the chair beside her father. He looked older now—more fragile—but his eyes still held a fire she hadn’t seen in a long time.
He didn’t waste time.
“I need you to listen,” he began, voice low but urgent. “Stop humiliating Michael.”
Sophia frowned. “Are you serious?”
“He’s done nothing but show loyalty,” Henry continued. “Kindness. Respect. Qualities this family barely recognizes anymore.”
Sophia scoffed. “He’s a nobody. You picked him off the street and now you want him treated like royalty? You’re making a mistake.”
Henry’s eyes hardened. “No, Sophia. I made the mistake of allowing you to treat him like dirt. That ends now.”
She crossed her arms but didn’t argue further. There was something in her father’s tone—something final.
Then he dropped it.
“I’m dying.”
Sophia blinked. “What?”
“In three days,” he said, “I’ll announce my successor. I need you to gather every member of the Donovan family. All of them.”
Sophia’s breath caught, but she nodded slowly. “I’ll handle it.”
Later that evening, in the privacy of the villa’s study, Sophia and Victoria sat across from each other, both silent for a long time.
Sophia was the first to speak. “He’s serious.”
Victoria nodded. “Then we need to prepare. I’ll begin calling the family. You handle the company.”
Sophia sighed. “We don’t have time for surprises.”
Victoria narrowed her eyes. “Then we better make sure there aren’t any.”
That same evening, Henry met privately with his lawyer. The room was dimly lit, quiet but tense.
The lawyer sat opposite him, notepad in hand. “You’re sure about this?”
Henry nodded. “Everything. The estate, the properties, the company shares—everything will go to Michael.”
The lawyer’s eyebrows lifted, struggling to contain the shock. “That will cause waves, sir. Massive ones.”
“There’s only one condition,” Henry continued, ignoring the lawyer’s hesitation. “Sophia must not divorce him. And the business must remain in the Donovan name.”
The lawyer paused. “You really trust him that much?”
Henry leaned back against the pillows, the weight of years pressing against his chest.
“Yes. Because sometimes, the one no one sees coming… is the one worth betting everything on.”
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Chapter 188: The Offer
Sophia did not sleep.She lay on her back in the hotel room, eyes open, the faint hum of the city filtering through the window like distant breathing. Each time she closed her eyes, the words from the call returned, steady and unavoidable.A permanent executive advisory role.Directly under Michael Ainsley.By morning, she was already dressed when the alarm went off.She moved through the early hours of the summit on muscle memory alone. She listened, responded, took notes, asked the right questions. No one could have guessed that beneath her calm, every step felt like she was standing on a fault line. She noticed Michael across rooms the same way she had learned to notice him years ago, without looking directly, without reaching. When he spoke, she followed the logic of his arguments, the rhythm of his thinking. When he paused, she already knew where he was going.That was the problem.It was why the offer terrified her.By midday, she made her decision to speak to him, not later
Chapter 187: Watching Eyes
The shift was subtle at first.It began with looks that lingered a second too long during corridor conversations, with pauses that stretched just enough to suggest unfinished thoughts. Meetings that had always been straightforward began carrying an undercurrent of calculation, as if every exchange were being quietly weighed for meaning beyond its surface.Michael noticed it without being told.He noticed it when a junior executive stopped mid-sentence and restarted with different wording after Sophia walked into the room. He noticed it when an investor laughed a little too easily at a comment that hadn’t been intended as humour. He noticed it when a liaison casually asked whether “alignment” at the summit had gone beyond projections and numbers.None of it was explicit. That was what made it dangerous.By the third day of the summit, the speculation had taken on a life of its own, moving not through formal channels but through the spaces in between, private messages, informal dinne
Chapter 186: The Soft Talks
The documents lay spread across the table between them, edges overlapping, corners curling slightly from hours of handling. The room had grown quieter as the night deepened, the distant sounds of the city reduced to a low, steady hum beyond the glass walls. Only a few lights remained on in the summit wing, casting long shadows across the floor.Sophia flipped through a printed report, pen tapping lightly against the margin as she read. Michael sat opposite her, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, eyes fixed on a column of figures on his laptop. Neither spoke for a while. The kind of silence that settles after exhaustion had begun to replace urgency.Sophia broke it first.“This section still needs tightening,” she said, sliding the paper toward him. “The wording leaves too much room for interpretation.”Michael leaned forward, scanning the paragraph. “They’ll push back if we narrow it further.”She shrugged slightly. “They always do.”He adjusted the phrasing anyway, fingers moving acr
Chapter 185: Pressure and Alignment
The call came just after dusk, cutting through the low hum of activity in the summit headquarters.Michael was halfway through reviewing revised schedules when his phone vibrated sharply against the table. He glanced at the screen, noted the caller ID, and answered without preamble.“Yes.”The voice on the other end did not bother with pleasantries. One of the consortium’s largest private investors had concerns, serious ones. Currency exposure. Political risk. A lack of assurance on phased returns. The tone was firm, bordering on final.“They’re threatening to pull out,” the liaison said. “If they do, others will follow.”Michael didn't respond immediately. He walked to the window, looking down at the dimly lit courtyard below, then asked a single question. “How much time?”“Until morning,” the liaison replied. “They want revised guarantees before market open.”Michael ended the call and stood still for a moment. Then he turned, already moving toward the conference area.Within minu
Chapter 184: Clarissa’s Clean Break
Clarissa signed the extension in a quiet office with no ceremony to mark the moment.The document lay flat on the table between her and the governor’s chief of staff, its pages already initialled where necessary. She picked up the pen, skimmed the final paragraph once more, and signed her name with a steady hand.No hesitation. No pause.The chief of staff gathered the papers, nodded once, and smiled. “We’re glad to have you fully on board,” he said, already rising from his chair. “This project will need continuity.”Clarissa returned the smile, professional and composed. “I’m aware,” she replied.When the door closed behind him, the room fell quiet. Clarissa remained seated for a moment longer, hands folded loosely on the table. She didn't feel relief in the dramatic sense people talked about. What she felt was clarity. The kind that arrived not with fireworks, but with stillness.She stood, collected her bag, and stepped back into the corridor where aides moved briskly between off
Chapter 183: What Was Never Said
The breakout room assignment appeared on the screen with no warning and no room for negotiation.Michael glanced at the list briefly as delegates dispersed into smaller groups, each assigned a specific focus area. Strategy alignment. Long-term viability. Risk mitigation. When his eyes moved down the column and landed on the names attached to his room, he did not react outwardly. He simply noted it, the same way he noted everything else that day, with a disciplined calm that had become second nature.Sophia noticed at the same time.For a fleeting second, her step slowed as she read the assignment on her tablet. Michael Ainsley. Strategy Room C. She inhaled quietly and continued walking, refusing to allow the coincidence to rattle her. This was not a trap. It was not intentional. It was logistics. She reminded herself of that as she entered the room and took a seat across the long, narrow table.The door closed behind them with a muted click.The room itself was unremarkable. Neut
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