Chapter 4

Elliot Remington’s penthouse was a masterpiece of modern architecture, a seamless blend of sophisticated and luxury. Floor to ceiling windows provided a breathtaking view of the New York skyline, city lights flickering like stars In the night. The open concept living space was adorned with sleek, minimalist furniture, plush leather couches, a glass coffee table, and a marble fireplace that added a subtle warmth to the otherwise cool toned interior. Every detail, from the custom lighting fixtures to the curated art pieces on the walls, exuded power and refinement.

Yet, despite its grandeur, it felt empty

Elliot stepped into his penthouse, the weight of his father’s ultimatum still pressing heavily on his shoulders. The moment he shut the door behind him, he let out a slow exhale, rolling his neck to release the tension, The scent of freshly brewed tea hits his nose.

"I was wondering when you'd get home"

Elliott’s fingers tightened. He turned, his expression unreadable, as he met the sharp gaze of the person he wasn't in the mood to entertain.

His mother.

Margaret Remington sat elegantly on one of the pristine white sofas, her posture perfect, her expression poised. She had been waiting for him.

Elliott’s jaw clenched. "You didn't call." He said shrugging off his suit jacket.

She lifted a delicate brown. “I wanted to surprise you, her smile widened. Sit darling, we need to talk.”

His mother had a way of invading spaces she wasn't invited into.

Elliot ran his hand through his hair. "What do you want, mother?"

Marriage studied him, her piercing eyes calculating. "I heard about your conversation with your father.”

Elliot scoffed, loosening his tie as he sank into the seat across from her. "That didn't take long."

"You know how he is." She waved a hand dismissively. And you also know that he's right."

Elliot narrowed his eyes. "If you're here to lecture me about marriage, you're wasting your time."

Margaret leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. "I'm not here to lecture you, darling. I'm here to offer a solution."

Elliot let out a humorless laugh. "Let me guess. You have someone in mind."

A small, satisfied smile played on her lips. "Isabella Sinclair"

The name was enough to pull an immediate reaction from him. He let out a slow breath, trying to suppress the irritation rising in his chest.

"Bella?" He said, his tone laced with disbelief. "You can't be serious."

Margaret tilted her head slightly. "She's perfect, Elliot. She comes from an influential family, she understands our world, and most importantly... she paused, letting her words sink in, "she adores you."

"She adores the idea of being a Remington."

Margaret sighed, as if speaking to a stubborn child. "You need a wife, Elliot. Someone who won't just fulfill your father's requirements but will elevate you. Isabella has everything you need, Beauty, connections and she has been devoted to you for years."

Elliot scoffed. “You mean obsessed.”

"Is that such a bad thing?" Margaret mused. "A woman who is willing to fight for you?"

"Fight for me or manipulate her way into my life?" Elliott shot back.

“You need someone who can match you, who won't crumble under the pressure of our world."

Elliot pinched the bridge of his nose. "Mother, I'm not interested in Isabella."

"You should be." Margaret's voice was calm, but firm. "She comes from the Sinclair family. Marrying her would be a strategic move. You know how these things work."

His jaw tightened. "I'm not going to marry for strategy."

"Then what will you marry for? Love?" She laughs lightly, as if the idea itself was ridiculous. "Darling, love is fleeting. Stability is what matters."

Elliot clenched his fists, the pressure in his chest building. First his father, now his mother. It was suffocating. "I don't need a wife to solidify my position."

"But you do." Margaret countered smoothly. "The Hawthorne deal is slipping, and your father won't tolerate that. If you don't make a move, someone else will, someone who understands the value of Legacy."

“If you're waiting for me to gree, you will be here all night,” he said flatly.

Margaret's expression didn’t change but something in her face hardened.

“I appreciate your concerns, Mother. But I would handle my life on my own terms.”

Margaret rose gracefully, unfazed by his frustration. She adjusted her coat, picked up her clutch then turned to face him one last time.

"Think about it, Elliot. The world respects a man with a strong partner by his side. Isabella is willing, She would make things easy for you. Don't let this opportunity slip away."

With that, she walked past him.

The door shut behind her, leaving Elliott in the silence once more.

He exhaled, shaking his head.

This day had been a nightmare.

His father’s threats and his mother’s scheming. His entire life being dictated by people who saw him as nothing more than a piece in their empire.

He needed a drink.

Grabbing his keys, he walked out

—

The bar was dimly lit, buzzing with quiet conversations and the clinking of glasses. It was exclusive, the kind of place where the elite came to drink away their problems.

Seated in a secluded booth, he drowned his whiskey, the burn doing little to ease his thoughts. His mind replayed the day's event. Marriage, business, control.

Was this all his life would ever be?

A bitter smirk touched his lips. How ironic that a man with everything could still feel trapped.

Just as he was about to take another sip, a presence shifted in front of him.

Someone had approached.

And in an instant, his night took an unexpected turn.