I MARRIED A MECHANIC TO RUIN MY FATHER'S PLAN

His grandfather does not raise his voice. He never has to. The study smells like leather and old paper and cigars he isn't supposed to smoke anymore. Julian has stood here a hundred times. It has never once felt like his. "Sit down, Julian." Julian stays standing. "Edward Moon called this morning," his grandfather says. "I know who Edward Moon is. So?" "Then you know he wants to expand Moon Foods overseas and needs funding. Ryanhart Automotive is the only buyer he trusts not to gut it for parts the moment the ink dries." A tap of one finger against the desk. "I think diversifying into foods is an interesting step." A pause. "And he has a daughter." "You want me to marry her." "I want the alliance, Julian. Marriage is the cleanest way to make it permanent instead of contractual. Contracts expire. A name doesn't." His grandfather's eyes stay level. "I'd think you, of all people, would understand what a name is worth." Julian doesn't answer that. "I have a life," he says instead. "You have a garage." "Actually, grandfather... I have a hundred and seventy-six of them. Across five states." His grandfather's mouth doesn't move, but something behind his eyes does. "Which I've allowed because it amused you and cost the company nothing. That ends the moment it interferes with something that matters." "It's not interfering. It's mine." "Nothing about you was ever entirely yours to keep separate. I made sure of that on purpose." He stands, slow, one hand finding the desk before it finds the cane. "Marry the girl. Secure what I built for you before I'm not here to secure it myself." "Or?" "Or explain to me why you'd rather lose it to strangers than sit across a table from a woman you haven't met." Julian looks at him for a long moment. The garages are his, built without this man's name stamped into the foundation. The Ryanhart name is different. His own father left. This man took in a fourteen-year-old boy who wasn't even his son and raised him anyway, and Julian asked to carry his name at eighteen because he meant it. He still means it. He just didn't expect the bill to come due like this. While he's thinking it, his eyes drift past his grandfather's shoulder to the crest mounted on the wall behind the desk, the bull rearing under crossed hammer and gear, the banner beneath it carved deep enough to read even in low light. Strength shapes legacy. He was small enough once that the crest looked like the whole ceiling. It doesn't anymore. "I'm aging," his grandfather says, quieter now. "I won't live to see your children if this drags on. You're thirty-five. Not so young anymore." Julian doesn't have an answer for that one at all. "I need time," he says finally. "You have until the announcement. This week." "A week." "The board votes on the Moon acquisition next Friday. The engagement gets announced at the shareholders' dinner the night before. That's the date I'm working with, whether you've made a decision by then or not." "Generous, considering I could've done this without telling you first." "You already had the press release drafted before you called me in here, didn't you." His grandfather doesn't deny it. "You knew what I'd say," Julian says. "I knew what you'd feel like saying. There's a difference. You're still standing here." "Standing here isn't the same as agreeing." "No," his grandfather says. "But it's closer than walking out would have been an hour ago. You'll notice you haven't done that yet either." He believes him. That's the worst part, that the old man has never once had to raise his voice to win, and somehow always knows exactly how close Julian is to the door before Julian does. Julian crosses the room, and for a moment his grandfather's shoulders tense like he's bracing for one more argument. Instead Julian puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes it, once, before he lets go. Affection where a threat should be. His grandfather looks almost surprised by it, like he'd forgotten that was still on the table between them. "Think about it," his grandfather says, quieter than anything else he's said all morning. "That's all I'm asking tonight." Julian doesn't answer that either. Some things don't need one. Then he walks out without another word. The hallway is quiet the way old money is quiet, like sound itself was asked politely to lower its voice. He doesn't slow down until he's outside, until the door shuts behind him and the air smells like exhaust and rain that hasn't fallen yet. He calls Martin from the car before he even starts the engine. "You're not at the shop," Martin says by way of hello. "I need you to pull everything we have on Edward Moon. Financials, board minutes, anything public." A pause on the line. "This about the merger talk from last quarter?" "This is about my grandfather trying to marry me off to secure it. Thursday. Shareholders' dinner. That's when he wants the engagement announced." Martin doesn't laugh, which is how Julian knows he already suspected something like this was coming. "You want me to fight it or prep for it?" "I want to know what I'm actually looking at before I decide which." "On it." A beat. "You good?" "I just need a car to dismantle." Martin's quiet a second, the kind of quiet that means he's translating that correctly. "That bad." "Pull the files, Martin." "On it." A pause. "There's a shareholders' dinner Thursday. Is that the deadline I think it is?" "That's the deadline." "Talk soon." He hangs up and sits there a long moment before he starts the engine, and doesn't start it until he's stopped hearing the last thing his grandfather said, on a loop, in his own voice instead of the old man's. His phone buzzes. A name flashes across the screen, a woman he's never met, in a press release he hasn't approved, already engaged to a man she doesn't know exists. He reads it twice. Then he starts the car.