GARRISON
The silence in the boardroom was heavy enough to suffocate.
Half-sister.
The lawyer’s words echoed in my ears, but my brain refused to process them. My eyes stayed locked on the woman sitting at the end of the glass table. She looked smaller today, dressed in a cheap, ill-fitting blazer, her knuckles white as she gripped a wrinkled piece of paper.
But it was her. The same hazel eyes that had challenged me under the dim lights of the St. Regis bar. The same mouth that had been inches from mine just twelve hours ago, tasting like gin and sweet temptation.
A dark, lethal fury flooded my veins. A scam. It had to be. She had targeted me at the bar. She had researched me, figured out my weaknesses, and tried to compromise me before dropping this legal bombshell to steal half my empire.
"Garrison?" the old lawyer, Arthur, prompted, looking at me over his reading glasses. "Is there a problem?"
I didn't break eye contact with Roxie. I watched a flicker of pure panic cross her face, confirming my suspicions. She knew exactly what she had done.
"Out," I said. My voice was a low, dangerous growl that cut through the room like a blade.
Arthur blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Everyone leave the room," I commanded, my hand gripping the back of a leather boardroom chair so hard the wood groaned. "Give us five minutes, now!"
The legal team didn't hesitate. They knew better than to cross me when my voice dropped to that specific tone. They scrambled, gathering their files and rushing out the double doors, leaving a heavy, suffocating silence in their wake. The click of the door lock sounded like a trap snapping shut.
I walked slowly down the length of the table, my leather shoes clicking against the hardwood floor. Roxie sat perfectly still, though I could see the frantic rise and fall of her chest.
I stopped right in front of her, leaning down and slamming both hands onto the glass table, trapping her between my arms. The scent of her… the same rain-and-vanilla scent from last night hit me, making my jaw clench.
"Who the hell are you?" I demanded, my face inches from hers. "And who paid you to target me last night?"
Roxie swallowed hard, but she didn't flinch. She looked up, her eyes wide with a mix of terror and confusion. "I didn't target you. I didn't even know your last name until five minutes ago!"
"Do you take me for a fool?" I hissed, my eyes dropping to her lips before snapping back to her eyes.
"You sit at my favorite bar. You play the desperate, beautiful stranger. You let me touch you. And twelve hours later, you show up in my boardroom claiming my grandfather's blood runs in your veins?"
"I don't want your grandfather's blood!" she fired back, her voice shaking with sudden, fierce anger. She stood up, forcing me to take half a step back, though she was still dwarfed by my height. "I came here because of a letter. My mother is in trouble, and I need answers. If I had known you were the brother they were talking about, I would have boarded the first bus back to Ohio!"
A sharp, consistent knock cut through the suffocating air of the boardroom.
Before I could demand more answers from her, the heavy mahogany doors swung open. Arthur walked back in, looking completely unfazed by the storm brewing between us. He held a thick, wax-sealed black envelope in his hand.
"I apologize for the interruption, Garrison," Arthur said smoothly, adjusting his glasses. "But your grandfather explicitly stated that the moment you two met, this letter must be read. No exceptions."
I tore myself away from Roxie, straightening my suit jacket. "Arthur, this is absurd. Run a DNA test immediately. I want this woman out of my building."
"The DNA profile is already verified and attached to the state legal registry, Garrison," Arthur replied coldly, shattering my hopes of a quick fix. "She is a match. Now, sit down. Both of you."
Roxie slowly sank back into her chair, her face completely pale. I remained standing, my arms crossed, glaring at the black envelope in Arthur’s hands.
Arthur broke the wax seal and cleared his throat.
"To my grandchildren, Garrison and Roxie," Arthur read, matching my grandfather’s arrogant, booming tone perfectly. "If you are hearing this, it means you have finally met. Garrison, I know you are furious. Roxie, I know you are terrified. But Vance International needs a soul, not just a robot in a tailored suit. And Roxie, you need resources."
I cut my eyes toward Roxie. Resources? What the hell did that mean?
Arthur continued reading. "Therefore, my multi-billion dollar estate will not be handed over easily. To claim your inheritance, you two must live together under the same roof at the Vance Manor for exactly ninety days. Furthermore, you will co-manage the empire as absolute equals."
"Absolutely not," I snarled. "I am the CEO."
"If either of you refuses to move into the manor, leaves before the ninety days are up, or fails to complete the bi-weekly business challenges I have left behind, the entire Vance fortune will be permanently liquidated and donated to a corrupt global charity group. You will both leave with zero dollars."
Arthur stopped reading and looked up, his expression deadpan. "There is a specific postscript for you, Miss Sterling."
Roxie’s breath hitched. "For me?"
"Yes," Arthur said, looking down at the paper. "Roxie, I am well aware of the five-million-dollar debt your mother owes to the underground syndicate in Ohio. If you fail this ninety-day race, or if Garrison kicks you out, I have ensured that the lender will be legally notified that you have no funds. They will liquidate your mother's life. Cooperate, and the first payout clears her debt."
The room went completely freezing.
Roxie choked back a sob, burying her face in her hands.
I stood frozen. My grandfather had known. He had tracked her down, discovered her criminal crisis, and used it to bait her into my life. He had engineered this entire trap to force us together.
I looked at the woman sitting at the end of the table—the woman I had almost taken to bed last night. She wasn't just a threat to my empire anymore. She was my supposed sister, she was desperate, and for the next ninety days, she was going to be living in my house.