The Heiress And The Tycoon: A Billion-Dollar Payback

CHAPTER 5

AZULA

For my parents’ wedding anniversary, I chose a classic black dress.

To add a personal touch, I paired it with hazel-toned accessories that matched the color of my eyes. I swept my hair into a neat updo, leaving my neck exposed.

Although the invitation had described the evening as a simple and intimate dinner, I knew better than to take that at face value. Casual, in my parents’ world, still meant refined. Show up underdressed, and they won’t hesitate to show you the door.

As I pulled up to their residence, I took a steadying breath and then reached for the wrapped gift on the passenger seat. Clutching it close, I made my way to the front entrance.

Mum was the first to greet me. Her face lit up with that radiant smile I’d known all my life as she opened her arms for a warm hug.

“Happy anniversary,” I whispered into her ear as we embraced.

She pulled back, eyes gleaming. “Thank you,” she said softly, accepting the gift with a gentle nod before passing it to the butler standing discreetly nearby.

“Your father’s out in the garden,” she added, gesturing toward the back. “He’s with Zev and his girlfriend. You might want to go say hello.”

“Zev has a girlfriend now?” I murmured under my breath, half in surprise, half in amusement. With a soft nod to Mum, I made my way toward the garden.

The path opened up to a beautifully arranged long dining table, draped in soft linens and glowing gently beneath a string of warm, hanging lights.

Zev spotted me first. He stood and walked over with a bright grin. “Hey, you made it,” he said, pulling me into a quick, brotherly hug before gesturing to the woman beside him. “This is Aria—my girlfriend.”

Aria smiled politely and extended a hand. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

“You too,” I replied, returning her smile. She seemed nice—calm and gracious, the kind of person who wouldn’t ruffle our family’s very particular feathers.

After brief pleasantries, I approached Dad. He was seated at the head of the table, as always, quietly surveying the setup. I leaned down and kissed his cheek.

“Happy anniversary, Dad.”

“Thank you,” he said with a small nod, accepting the wrapped gift I handed him. He didn’t exactly light up with joy, but his tone carried appreciation nonetheless. That was enough for me.

Just then, Zev’s voice lowered into a quiet mutter. “Oh… he’s here.”

Something about his tone made me glance over my shoulder. “Who’s here?” I asked, curious.

That’s when I saw him.

Marek.

He stood a few feet away, hands casually in his pockets, his dark eyes locked onto mine. For a moment, neither of us moved. His gaze slowly traveled down the length of me—lingering at my exposed neck just a little too long—before tracing the lines of my dress with intensity.

I felt heat rise to my cheeks.

Then, I saw it—the corner of his mouth lifting into what could only be described as a smirk. Not playful. Not innocent. Just… intentional.

Zev, who had been standing quietly beside me this entire time, shifted slightly—as though preparing to walk over and greet Marek. But before he could take a full step, I reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him.

“Why didn’t you tell me Dad invited him?” I asked, my voice low.

He glanced down at me like I’d just asked him if the sky was blue. “I didn’t think it was necessary,” he said, shrugging.

Of course, he didn’t.

I turned my attention back just in time to see Marek approaching our father. His expression was calm, almost unreadable, but there was an ease in the way he extended his hand.

“Happy anniversary,” Marek said, his voice smooth, and confident. He handed over a gift box—polished, understated, but unmistakably expensive.

“Let’s eat!” Mum called out cheerfully, clapping her hands together. “The food’s getting cold.”

There was a soft chorus of agreement as the guests began heading toward the long table. I made a point to avoid looking in Marek’s direction—partly because of the knot forming in my stomach, but mostly because of our past.

I took a seat beside Zev, who had chosen the spot next to Aria. She gave me a small smile as I sat, one I managed to return despite the uneasy flutter in my chest.

There were plenty of seats still available—several down the line, a few beside my uncle, even one near Mum—but of course, Marek made his choice.

He walked to the chair directly across from me, paused just long enough to let the tension settle, then pulled it out and sat down.

He leaned back, his dark eyes locking with mine again.

“Hello, Ms. Azula,” he said, his tone dipped into a kind of mocking formality.

I blinked. Ms. Azula?

So we were doing that now.

Forcing a polite smile, I finally met Marek’s gaze. “Hi. Thanks for making it.”

His lips tugged into a half-smile, the kind that always made it hard to tell whether he was amused or just toying with me. “It’s hard not to,” he replied in a low rasp, his voice smooth and husky, “when Mr. Ashford sent his best wine.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that—whether it was meant as a compliment or a subtle dig—so I simply cleared my throat and shifted my gaze to the left. That’s when I caught Zev watching us.

His eyes flicked from me to Marek, narrowing slightly.

“What?” I hissed under my breath, leaning slightly toward him.

He shook his head once and returned his attention to his plate as if brushing the whole thing off. But I knew Zev. That wasn’t nothing.

Dinner carried on with a quiet murmur of small talk and clinking cutlery.

Then, halfway through the main course, Dad cleared his throat—a sound that instantly silenced the table.

“I want my daughter to run KOLLA,” he announced, eyes locking directly on Marek across the table.

My fork paused halfway to my mouth.

“But,” he continued, calmly, “I don’t think the board is going to be very pleased with that.”

Marek was supposed to say something.

I mean, it was only natural, right? My father had practically laid the comment at his feet like an offering. But the egotistical man simply continued chewing his food—slowly, deliberately—while the rest of us waited in an awkward silence.

He finally reached for his napkin, dabbed at the corners of his mouth with irritating grace, then looked up.

“So,” he said at last, “you want me to influence their decision as one of the top shareholders?”

The manner with which he asked the question could’ve made a lesser man scramble for footing.

But not my father.

“Not in the way you think,” he replied, reaching for his glass and taking a slow sip of wine. He tilted the glass slightly in my direction. “She doesn’t have experience in the role, which will be the board’s main concern. That’s why I want you to coach her.”

I nearly choked on my drink.

“Coach me?” I echoed, coughing as I set my glass down a little too quickly. I turned to my father with wide eyes. “What happened to Zev coaching me?”

Zev looked up mid-bite, as surprised as I was.

Dad simply leaned back in his seat. “Zev’s responsibilities have increased. He’ll be handling our new overseas partnerships. He is planning his engagement party. Do you want to overwhelm him with even more responsibilities?” He smacked his lips together. “I need someone who understands KOLL from the inside out—someone the board respects—to guide you.”

And of course, that someone just had to be Marek.

I could feel his eyes on me again—watching, assessing, like he already knew I’d try to wriggle out of this and was daring me to try.

“Besides,” Dad continued, “Zev would be too lenient with you. You’ll learn faster under pressure. Marek won’t coddle you, and that’s exactly what you need.”

All eyes turned to Marek, who had been silently watching the back-and-forth between my father and me with unsettling amusement. He finally cleared his throat, setting his glass down with a soft clink.

“And why,” he said, tilting his head, “should I agree to coach her? What’s in it for me?”

“Three percent shares in the new Power Holding Hub,” he said quickly, as though he’d anticipated Marek’s resistance all along. “I know you want that, Marek.”

Marek let out a low chuckle as he reached again for his glass, swirling the wine inside before lifting it in my direction.

“Well then,” he said with a smirk, “welcome aboard, Ms. Azula.”

Wait a f*ck*ng minute.

My stomach twisted, and my pulse kicked up. This can’t be happening. Work with my ex-fiancé? The man I hadn’t spoken to in years—the man I’d once nearly married?

But my father wasn’t done destroying my sanity.

“Not only will you both work together for a month,” he added, “I want you to be seen at public events together—photographed. You represent the future of KOLLA, and it’s time we show a united front.”

I blinked, stunned. “You want us to… what? Parade around like a PR couple?”

“Exactly,” he said with no shame. “People trust familiarity. We’re selling power, continuity… legacy.”

Marek just sat there, lips curved into a devilish grin like he was already enjoying the idea of watching me squirm.

My eyes narrowed. Is Dad really doing what I think he is doing? “Are you trying to ship us right now?”

Marek tilted his head. “That ship sailed a long time ago Ms. Azula. You jumped off into the water remember?”

I glared at him but he simply stared back with a deadpan expression.

“Report to work on Monday Ms. Azula.” He taunted, “It is going to be an interesting month working with you.”