Aiden's pov
The car finally pulled to a halt and a heavy sigh escaped my lips.
"Make sure to do as I have told you."
Alex nodded. "Yes sir. But do I still need to report to Madam?"
"No. You report to me only. Back it up with evidence, enough to get her kicked out." I paused. "I need Kate back as soon as possible."
He nodded, then stepped out and opened the car door for me.
The chilly breeze hit hard the moment I stepped out, like I was at a war with it. The whole place was eerily quiet, just a single line of cars where there were usually rows of them.
I sighed, heading towards the door.
I can't wait to get this over with.
Alex stepped forward and held the doors open.
A sharp, sterile scent hit me the moment I stepped inside, and I've been here enough times to know something was wrong.
No nurses moving between rooms. No patients, no doctors, no children cutting corners and running where they shouldn't. Just men in suits standing where all of that should have been, and a silence thick enough to press against your chest.
Father's doing.
Alex stepped forward as one of them approached.
"Mr. Aiden's Secretary," he introduced.
The man gave a short nod, then looked past him. At me.
"Welcome, sir. This way, please."
Alex moved to follow and the man stepped into his path without hurry.
"I'm sorry, sir. Only the Beaumonts are permitted beyond this point. Chairman's orders."
I looked at Alex.
He looked at me.
"Understood," he said quietly, and stepped back.
The other men hadn't moved. Hadn't spoken. But I felt every one of them — that particular brand of stillness that isn't calm at all.
"Last floor," the man said as I passed. "To your left."
The elevator doors slid shut and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. Pressed my back against the wall and stared at the ceiling.
Father never did anything without a reason. Every detail, every arrangement, every deliberate inconvenience was a message.
And this time, the message was for me.
He must have heard. And this was his reply.
The doors opened.
A strip of light leaked from a door at the far end of the hall. Everything else was dim and still. My heart thudded steadily as I walked toward it.
No noise. No movement. Just silence like there was no one behind it at all.
I stopped outside the door. Sighed. Squared my shoulders and steadied myself before pushing it open.
A long table dominated the room. Father sat at the head, not in a bed, not with a drip attached to his arm but he'd lost weight. His shirt hung off him differently. His hair was greyer at the temples. Still, his eyes found mine the moment I crossed the threshold, sharp as they'd always been.
Disappointed.
Someone had fallen short, and that someone was me.
Mother sat to his right. Henry and William to the left. Vivian and Sophie further down, all of them watching as I entered.
One empty chair. Beside Father.
I moved toward it.
"Hello, Father."
He looked away.
I sat down and let the silence settle. "I'm sorry I'm late. I had—"
"No, it's alright." Mother's voice was measured, careful. "You have a newborn to look after. It's okay."
The words were gentle enough. But I caught what lived underneath them — the quiet reminder, that my excuse carried its own indictment. That Ellen must have already said something.
"That's right," I said, and smiled like it hadn't landed.
"I heard." Henry's tone was flat. "Congratulations."
"Thank you."
Father still hadn't spoken.
I turned to him. "How's your health?"
Still no response.
My gaze flickered to Mother, she was also staring at him, while he was staring at nothing.
"Is something wrong?" I asked and our gaze locked. She shook her head negatively and I drew in a sharp breath before leaning back.
Vivian shifted in her seat. Sophie glanced at her watch and frowned. "It's been over an hour, Dad. What's this meeting for?"
The door pushed open.
My breath stilled.
Ethan.
My gaze snapped to Father.
That look on his face.
He had been waiting for him the entire time.
My fists tightened in my lap as Ethan crossed the room and lowered himself into the seat at the opposite end of the table. Mother's eyes moved from him to Father and back again, her jaw set, suppressing something she'd clearly decided wasn't the moment for.
The rest looked stunned. But not angry. Three years, and the edges had already softened for them.
They've forgotten what he did.
Father cleared his throat.
I swallowed.
"Sixty years." His voice was low, unhurried. "Sixty years was what it took to build this empire. To fight against every odd, every enemy, every rival, every bastard who wanted to see us fail." He paused. "And in nine months..."
"You have all proven to be the beginning of its failure."
My jaw locked.
He's addressing everyone. But this is for me.
Mother looked away. The others sat frozen. And Ethan…I bit my lower lip. That bastard, simply stared ahead, unbothered.
Father exhaled slowly, steadying himself. "Including its own Patriarch."
His gaze moved briefly, deliberately to Ethan.
He didn't say temporary.
My chest tightened.
"I have watched you all singlehandedly threaten the existence of everything generations have built. The Blackwoods are rising, taking ground in the market, and you are here, busy tearing down the very legacy you were supposed to protect."
His eyes settled on mine.
"If you cannot manage one company, how do you intend to manage five?"
I kept my face still even as my heart thudded faster. "What are you referring to, Father?"
Wasn't this supposed to be about the divorce?
"The Brownells cancelled the contract."
Air left my lungs.
What is he talking about?
Avery never said—
A dry, short sound escaped his lips. Not quite a laugh.
"You didn't know?"He nodded slowly. "Well, I didn't expect you to. You must have been preoccupied with your new child. That has them finalizing it and with the Blackwoods."
I bit down on the inside of my cheek. "There must have been a mistake, Father. We signed that contract."
He looked at me for a long moment without speaking. Then he shook his head.
"You divorced Kate."
My breath caught. I forced a nod. "She—"
"That's a good one."
I stilled. "What?"
"I'll compensate her myself." His tone didn't shift. Didn't soften. "In the meantime, you'll begin making arrangements for your remarriage. You are marrying the mother of your child."