Chapter 2: My Perfect In
1286 Words
Chapter 2: My Perfect In
The rhythmic clicking of my shoes against the marble floor echoed in the grand hallway of the Ashford estate. The sunlight filtered through stained-glass windows, scattering fractured rainbows across the white walls. It was a beautiful morning, but beauty had never been enough to soften my resolve.
“Good morning, sir,” one of the aides greeted as I strode past.
I didn’t bother responding. Pleasantries were a waste of time, and they didn’t need my acknowledgment to know their place. My mind was too preoccupied to spare a second for meaningless exchanges.
When I reached the door to the yard, I pushed it open without knocking. There, as always, sat my grandfather—Leonard Ashford. The old man was perched in his favorite rockchair in the garden a book in hand, his graying hair catching the morning light. He looked up at me with a warm smile.
“Damian,” he greeted. “You’re up early.”
I shrugged, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind me. “Had a lot to think about.”
He chuckled softly, setting the book aside. “Thinking or scheming?”
A smirk tugged at my lips. “A bit of both.”
I found Leonard seated on the porch of our estate, the golden hues of the setting sun casting a serene glow over his weathered features. He was sipping his usual evening tea, the faint aroma of chamomile blending with the crisp autumn air. To anyone else, he looked like just another frail old man enjoying his twilight years. But to me, he was the sharpest mind I’d ever known—a man who’d taught me everything I knew about survival, ambition, and the art of winning.
“Old man,” I called out, leaning against the doorframe. “Why do you look like you’ve been reflecting on the meaning of life?”
Leonard chuckled, his laughter carrying the weight of years spent raising me. “Because I have, Damien. Someone in this family has to think about our legacy.”
“And here I thought you’d left that responsibility to me.” I took the seat opposite him, crossing one leg over the other as I leaned back, the picture of composure. “What do you know about the Graham Corporation?”
His brows furrowed slightly at the mention of the name, but he didn’t look entirely surprised. He closed his book slowly, his movements deliberate. “Why the sudden interest?”
“They’re too perfect,” I said, my voice tinged with disdain. “Flawless reputation. Transparent dealings. Zero controversies. You and I both know perfection is just a façade. It’s the ones with the cleanest faces that are hiding the most rot.”
Leonard sighed, setting his cup down with deliberate care. “You’re right about that. No empire grows that big without stepping on a few bodies along the way. But…” He trailed off, his gaze distant. “The Grahams weren’t always like that.”
I leaned forward, curious now. “Go on.”
“There’s history there, Damien.” Leonard’s voice softened, tinged with nostalgia. “Your grandmother, God rest her soul, was best friends with Margaret Graham. They were inseparable—practically sisters. When they had children, they made a promise to unite our families through marriage. But life… complicated things.”
“How so?” I asked, though I already suspected where this was going.
“Well, your father was the only child on our side. And Margaret’s son… he wasn’t the marrying type,” Leonard said with a wry smile. “By the time they had grandchildren, your grandmother had passed, and the promise was all but forgotten.”
A slow grin spread across my face as I pieced the puzzle together. “So, the Grahams owe us a marriage alliance?”
He leaned back, his gaze drifting toward the window. “It was a promise between two old friends. Your grandmother and Catherine wanted to unite the families. Catherine had a son, and your grandmother thought marriage between their children would solidify their bond. But... things didn’t work out. Your aunt had no interest in men, and Catherine’s boy died young.”
I tapped my fingers against the armrest, my mind already spinning. “So, the arrangement was abandoned?”
He hesitated, his silence confirming what I’d suspected.
“Not entirely,” he admitted finally. “There was talk of revisiting it for the next generation. Catherine’s daughter and—”
“And me,” I finished for him, a slow smile spreading across my face. “Interesting.”
“Don’t get any ideas, Damian,” he warned, his voice firm. “It was a promise made decades ago. Hardly binding.”
I leaned forward, locking eyes with him. “Old man, you’ve always told me we honor family traditions. If this was so important to Grandma, why haven’t you pursued it?”
He studied me for a long moment, suspicion etched into his weathered face. “Because I don’t believe in forcing anyone into anything. And neither would your grandmother.”
“But you believe in keeping promises,” I countered smoothly, watching his resolve waver. “You always said she hated broken promises.”
He sighed, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his temples. “What are you after, Damian? And don’t tell me it’s love.”
I laughed, the sound sharp and devoid of humor. “Love? No, this isn’t about love. This is about opportunity. The Grahams are vulnerable, whether they show it or not. And I intend to... strengthen our alliance while getting what I want.”
His frown deepened. “Which is?”
“Everything.”
For a moment, he simply stared at me, then shook his head. “Damian, don’t do anything reckless.”
“Reckless?” I repeated, arching a brow. “Everything I’ve done has been calculated, Old Man. This will be no different. Just make the call.”
He sighed again, a heavy sound of resignation, and reached for the phone. “If this backfires—”
“It won’t,” I said flatly, standing to adjust my suit jacket. “Trust me.”
Leonard rubbed his temples, frustration etched into every line of his face. “And you think marriage is the way to do it?”
“It’s a way in,” I replied, standing to adjust my suit. “The perfect in.”
Hours later, I sat in my study, the warm glow of the antique desk lamp casting long shadows across the room. Shelves of leather-bound books surrounded me, but my focus was on the task at hand. I dialed my assistant, who was still stationed in Russia.
“Mr. Ashford,” she greeted on the first ring.
“I need you to draft an invitation,” I said, wasting no time. “Address it to the Graham family. Their daughter is to join me at the estate.”
There was a slight hesitation on the other end. “An invitation for what purpose, sir?”
My lips curved into a slow, wolfish smile. “Let’s call it... honoring a long-standing tradition.”
“And if they decline?”
“They won’t,” I replied, my tone icy with certainty. “Attach conditions so lucrative they can’t refuse. Make it clear—it’s non-negotiable.”
“Understood, sir.”
I ended the call and leaned back in my chair, satisfaction blooming in my chest. The Grahams had no idea what was coming. Their perfect little world was about to crumble, and I would be the one pulling every string, savoring every moment of their downfall.
- Writer
