Two Hearts

Good News or Bad News?

Erik's POV

The weekend had finally arrived. A quiet Saturday morning.

Breakfast had always been my favorite part of the day—at least on weekends. It was the one time I could enjoy a cup of coffee without rushing, read the newspaper, and catch up on what was happening in the world.

Peaceful. Relaxing.

A chance to recover from the stress of the week. And lately, there had been far too much stress.

For the first time in weeks, I was cautiously optimistic. Laura had called. Then I had visited Daniel.

If neither of them had murdered the other by now, perhaps there was still hope.

I was already considering stopping by later that morning to check on them when my phone rang. I glanced at the screen and immediately frowned.

My mother.

This early. That could only mean one thing. She had made a decision. And whenever my mother made a decision, the rest of us were simply informed afterward.

I answered carefully.

"Good morning, Mother. To what do I owe the honor of such an early call?"

"I have wonderful news!" The excitement in her voice made my heart sink.

Oh no.

Not wonderful news. Wonderful news from my mother usually meant disaster for everyone else.

"I'm arriving in two weeks!"

I nearly dropped my coffee.

"What?"

"I know I originally said the end of next month, but my friend who was supposed to travel before me became ill. She didn't want the ticket to go to waste, so we switched. Isn't it marvelous? We'll see each other much sooner than planned!"

I closed my eyes.

Slowly.

Very slowly.

"And what about your hotel reservation?"

There was a brief silence. Then she laughed. Actually laughed.

"Oh, sweetheart. What hotel?"

I sat up straighter.

"What do you mean, what hotel?"

"I was never planning to stay in a hotel."

I knew it. I knew it. Every instinct I'd had from the beginning had been right.

"I'm staying with Daniel."

Of course she was. Why wouldn't she be? My mother never did anything halfway.

"Mother, that's not a good idea."

"Nonsense."

"They need privacy."

"They're married."

Silence.

Then her tone hardened.

"Not from family."

I rubbed my forehead.

"I want to spend time with my great-grandchildren."

There it was. The final verdict. The discussion was over. Because when my mother used that tone, it wasn't a conversation anymore. It was a royal decree.

"I'll see you in two weeks."

Click. The line went dead. I stared at my phone. Then at my untouched breakfast. Then at my coffee.

For a long moment, I simply sat there.

One thought echoed through my head - Daniel is going to kill me.

I stood immediately. Breakfast forgotten. Coffee abandoned.

Within minutes I was in my car, driving toward Daniel's house. There was no point delaying the inevitable. They needed to hear this. And preferably before my mother arrived with suitcases and expectations.

The entire drive, I rehearsed different ways to tell them. None sounded good. None sounded survivable.

When I arrived, I didn't bother knocking. I headed straight inside. Voices drifted from the kitchen.

Good.

They were both home. As I stepped inside, I froze.

Daniel and Laura stood in the kitchen. Both holding coffee mugs. For a brief moment, I actually relaxed.

Well. That was progress. Maybe this wouldn't be quite as bad as I thought.

I was wrong.

Very wrong.

Daniel's POV

For the first time in weeks, I had woken up feeling... lighter.

The dinner had been awkward. Unexpected. Strangely exhausting. But it had also been the first real step forward.

I'd learned things about the children. I'd observed Laura. Not much. But enough. Enough to realize that maybe my father had been right. Maybe avoiding everything wasn't actually solving anything.

The kitchen encounter that morning had been awkward too.

I could still remember the look on Laura's face when she'd walked in and found me standing there. Like she'd seen a ghost.

Honestly, it had almost been amusing. I had even made her coffee. Which was ridiculous. I hadn't made coffee for a woman in years. Not since Elina.

And then my father arrived. And dropped an atomic bomb in the middle of the kitchen.

"She can't stay here." I wasn't negotiating.

"She already bought the ticket," my father replied.

"Cancel it."

"I'm not cancelling my mother's ticket." I stared at him.

He wasn't even trying. He'd already accepted this disaster as inevitable. My grandmother was exactly like him. Maybe worse. Both of them made decisions first and informed everyone else later.

I was tired of it. Tired of all of it.

"Then I'm leaving." The words came out before I could stop them.

I turned and headed toward the front door. I didn't know where I would go. Didn't care. Anywhere. Every step felt easier than staying.

I grabbed my car keys. Reached for the doorknob. And stopped.

Something made me look back - Laura.

She was standing perfectly still. Pale. Far too pale. Not angry. Not frustrated.

Terrified.

As if the ground had suddenly disappeared beneath her feet. And for the first time since this ridiculous arrangement had begun, I realized something. If I walked away now, we were finished.

Not just this plan. Everything.

I closed my eyes briefly. Running away wouldn't solve this. It never had.

With a heavy sigh, I released the doorknob. The keys felt unusually heavy in my hand.

Then I turned around, walked back into the kitchen, and dropped them onto the counter. The sound echoed through the room. Neither Laura nor my father said a word. They both stared at me. Waiting.

I dragged a hand through my hair and exhaled.

"Fine."

Silence.

"We need a plan."

Neither of them moved. Neither of them seemed capable of processing what I had just said. Honestly, I wasn't sure I could either. Because for the first time since signing that contract, I wasn't trying to escape the situation. I was trying to fix it.

"Sit down." I pointed toward the dining table.

My father recovered first. Without arguing, he pulled out a chair and sat down.

Laura followed a second later. Still pale. Still looking slightly shell-shocked.

I took the seat opposite them.

For a moment, nobody spoke. The three of us sat there in complete silence.

A billionaire businessman. His unwilling son. And a woman who had somehow been dragged into this madness.

Nobody looked happy. Nobody looked confident.

But for the first time since this entire arrangement had begun, we were finally sitting on the same side of the table. Not against each other. Together.

I leaned back in my chair.

"All right."

Both of them looked at me.

"Tell me everything my grandmother likes."

For several seconds, nobody answered. Then my father rubbed a hand over his face. Laura looked as if she was mentally preparing for war.

And suddenly I had the uncomfortable feeling that surviving the next two weeks might be harder than building a billion-dollar company.

Much harder.