The Widow And the Heir

Chapter4

She didn’t pull away. I noticed her wince slightly, but she didn't struggle to break free. Her eyes stayed locked on mine, calm, sharp and fearless.

“Let me go, Charles,” she whispered. “You're hurting me.”

My grip tightened for a second, but then something in her expression changed, she had pity all over her face. She pitied me? I released her with a grunt, stepping back, my hands trembled slightly.

“You're crazy…you're a crazy woman!”

Celia straightened her blouse and acted like nothing happened. “I get that you're angry, but you don't have to resort to violence.”

I ignored her and walked out of the house, there was no way I could do this. I couldn't stand seeing this woman everyday, I couldn't stand going to my father's company to work and pretend like everything was fine. Nothing was fine! I don't care what anyone thinks, especially that little gold digger. I don't care if she called me a loser, she didn't know half my pains and struggles.

My decision was made, I was going to leave everything to Margot and her son and go far away from here, back to where I had stayed for over a year.

I am actually doing very well where I was. I opened a small firm and it was doing so well that I was thinking of expanding.

I didn't need the Tate money or my father's influence to survive, I made it on my own but nobody knew that, they all think I'm some loser with daddy issues.

I drove down to Margot's house, surprised at myself for remembering the address. I barely visited my half-brother and his crazy mother.

I parked across the street first, thinking about my decision. Yes… it was the right thing to do, I just had to go away and after three months, they would have what they always wanted and I would be free from my father's shackles.

I walked down towards the house, ready to come to a compromise. Her door was slightly opened, I was about to knock when I heard muffled voices…I stopped.

“…he’s not worthy enough,” Margot was saying. “It will be so easy to get the company. And when we do, we can finally ruin it and run it to the ground as planned.”

I froze.

Another voice replied. David’s. “What if he decides to get married?”

“He won’t,” she said smoothly. “He hates his father and wants nothing to do with Tate Industries. Don't worry too much my son, everything is going to be yours and we can finally have our revenge on that family for treating us like outcasts.”

I leaned closer, my heart pounding. David chuckled.

“Our victory is so close, mother. The end of the Tate legacy is near.”

I stepped back slowly, carefully, and walked back to my car.

My mind spun. They were plotting to run the company to the ground, and I had just been about to hand it all over to them…I would have made it so easy for them.

I wasn't worthy enough?

Is that what everyone thought?

My hands clenched into fists.

They thought I was weak. They thought I’d run. Maybe I would’ve. But now?

Now I was going to burn their little plan to the ground.

I started the car and drove off. Rage coursed through me as I drove back to the house that now belonged to my “stepmother.”

I shook my head. These women my father kept in his life….all they were after was what he worked for and his money, they didn't care about him. Only my mother loved him truly, but he couldn't see that while she was alive.

I took a deep breath as I walked into the house. Celia was there, standing in the kitchen with a cup of tea in one hand and something that looked like a sketch book in the other.

She looked up, and our eyes met and held. She raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”

I stared at her for a second too long. “Yes,” I pointed at her hand. “What's that?”

“Oh this?” She smiled. “I'm thinking of redesigning the kitchen, I already drew out what I would like. Do you want to see?”

I didn't care to look at the stupid design in her hand. “My mother used that kitchen and she loved it this way, I have memories with her here. Who do you think you are to redesign it?”

She sipped her cup of tea slowly, and set it down on the counter. “It doesn't matter what you say, I'm still going to do it.”

I scoffed. “Because it's your house now, right?”

“No, because I've wanted to do this for a while and your father approved of it before he died.”

I chuckled darkly. “I'm pretty sure my father would have agreed to anything you said,” I eyed her from head to toe. “You only had to flash your naked body at him and he would run over to you like a puppet, am I right?”

Her eyes flashed and I didn't expect what came next. Her hand flew up and a heavy slap landed on my cheek. My eyes shone in surprise, and I stood still for a moment, stunned by the sting on my face. Shocked that a slap this powerful would come from a woman this small. My heart pounded at the thought of it…and for a moment I thought it was because I would snap any moment now, but I didn't. I just stared at her, wondering where she got the nerve. The audacity.

She didn't flinch. Her eyes remained steady and unwavering as it always did.

She was acting though… like she wasn't scared of me. "You think it's okay for you to raise your filthy hands on me?" I hissed through gritted teeth, trying to swallow the rage building inside me.

She didn't apologize. She didn’t flinch. Instead, she stepped closer, her voice low but steady. “You think it's okay for you to insult me? I'm not only your father's wife, I'm older than you are.”

“With only a few years.”

“You keep mentioning your mother, didn't she teach you respect? I'm pretty sure she did, so why are you acting like an untrained, mannerless fool?”

Her words hit harder than the slap. My jaw clenched as I fought to keep my temper in check.

I turned my back to her, pacing a few steps across the room. My mind raced. “I’m done, Celia. I’m not staying here. I don’t need this. I don’t need your games.”

“You think I’m playing games?” she asked, the edge in her voice cutting through the air. “You’re the one who’s been running from your own problems, Charles. Hiding from reality. You think leaving will solve everything? It won’t.”

I stopped, my fingers dug into the counter as I tried to steady myself. “I’ll do whatever the hell I want.”

She stepped forward, ignoring the space I tried to keep between us. “You’re so damn stubborn, it’s exhausting. You think by running away from everything, you’ll be free? You’ll never be free, Charles. Not until you stop running from yourself.”

I turned to face her again, my eyes narrowed. “What the hell do you know about me?”

“I know enough,” she said quietly. “I know you’re angry, and I know why. But you’re not going to fix anything by cutting yourself off from the world, from your family, from the company your father built. You’re just letting them win.”

“Just shut up! Can everyone just stop talking about my father's company even for just a moment? It's killing me!”

She wasn't fazed by my high pitched voice or my failed attempt at controlling my anger. “You're driven by the grudges you hold against your father, try to let them go…”

“Stop!” I cut her short. “I don’t want to hear any silly advice from you. I have already decided to do it.”

I heard her sigh in relief as she smiled at me. “That's good Charles. What are your plans?”

I watched her. “First, I have to find someone who'd be willing to get married within three months.”

She nodded in agreement. “You do.”

“Which brings me to ask this question,” I smirked mischievously. “Will you marry me?”