Crossed paths

Chapter 2 His Will

Jack

I couldn't believe it. I stood by the window of my office, staring out at the city skyline. Usually, the vast expanse of glass and steel stretching out toward the horizon could anchor me, slowing down whatever frantic pace the day demanded.

Today, it didn't do a damn thing.

My father actually expected me to put my life on hold for a reality television show. What was the tagline again? Right. 'LOVE HUNT FOR THE BILLIONAIRE.' The words felt ridiculous even just rolling around in my thoughts. Who actually sat down to watch these things? Who genuinely believed that a group of producers, a countdown clock, and a wall of studio lights could somehow engineer a real human connection?

I didn't have time to play the part of a bachelor looking for a soulmate. I ran a company. Hundreds of people relied on me for their livelihoods, and every major corporate decision landed squarely on my desk. I couldn't just up and leave my responsibilities for a month to be paraded around on television. The sheer logistical nightmare of managing operations remotely was enough to make my blood boil, but this wasn't just about the company. It was personal.

My dad honestly believed this public circus was the only way to force me to settle down. He thought I was missing out on life. What he failed to understand, what he stubbornly refused to accept, was that I had closed that door a long time ago, and I had no intention of ever reopening it.

I despised the very concept of romance. Love was a pathetic illusion, a weak excuse that people used to justify making themselves vulnerable, only to tear each other apart in the end. Emotional entanglements were messy, unpredictable, and a liability I refused to take on again.

After what happened, and the quiet wreckage that left me cynical to the bone, I had drawn a sharp, permanent line. I hated it. I hated the expectation, the false promises, and the absolute vulnerability that came with letting someone in. I kept my personal life strictly uncomplicated, just mutual attraction, a quiet understanding, and single nights that ended when the sun came up. No strings, no attachments, and absolutely no room for sentimentality.

A lot of people didn't get it. The women who hoped a few dinner dates might soften the edges always ended up frustrated. But I valued my solitude too much to ever willingly walk back into that kind of suffocating cage. In my world, keeping people at a distance wasn't just a preference; it was the only way to protect whatever piece of myself I had left.

Right now, though, my father had found the one leverage point I couldn't ignore. My dream project, 'Lily,' was completely stalled.

The board wouldn't give the green light without his vote of confidence, and he had flatly refused to sign off until I signed the production contract. Three years. I had spent three long, grueling years pouring everything I had into this initiative.

It was meant to be a massive technological leap forward, the first-ever fully autonomous robotics system engineered to handle high-risk, hazardous tasks in military zones and contagious hospital wards. It was supposed to save lives.

And yet, my father was holding a revolutionary breakthrough hostage for a dating show. I couldn't wrap my head around his obsession with it. The absolute last place a serious businessman belonged was on a stage surrounded by a dozen camera-hungry contestants looking for a media payout.

But he knew exactly what he was doing. He was blackmailing me because he knew I would never take 'Lily' to an outside firm. The project had been my mother's final idea before she passed away. I owed it to her memory to build it here, under our family name, no matter what ridiculous hoops I had to jump through first.

Frustrated, I dropped into my desk chair, running a hand through my hair as I stared at the contract, hunting for a single loophole.

There wasn't one.

I hit the intercom button on my desk. "Alle, step into my office for a moment."

If there was one thing running smoothly in this building, it was her desk. Alle was easily the most competent assistant I had ever hired. Six years of absolute loyalty, and one of the very few people whose presence didn't immediately grate on my nerves.

But I hated her full name. Allena. Every time I saw it on a formal HR document, it carried a bitter weight, pulling up a ghost from my past I had spent years trying to outrun. Just hearing the syllables made my jaw clench with a deep, familiar anger. It was a name belonging to the one person I hoped to God I'd never have to look at again, the woman who had single-handedly destroyed my belief in trust. So, to keep my own sanity, I strictly called her Alle.

The door clicked open, and Alle walked in, her movements quiet and practiced.

"Sir, I have finalized all the arrangements with AVTVS for the show," she said, her calm tone a welcome relief from the tension tight in my chest. "I also set up your remote access network. You'll be able to oversee the daily operations and approve corporate decisions while you're away from the office. Is there anything else you need?"

"No, Alle. Thank you," I said, leaning back against the leather of my chair. "But I told you to delegate this. You have a wedding coming up next week."

"Thank you, sir," she said, a genuine smile breaking through her professional demeanor. "But I didn't want to leave your specific requirements to anyone else. I wanted to make sure everything was handled perfectly before I stepped out. To be honest, I still feel a little guilty taking time off when you're dealing with this reality show."

"Don't worry about it. I'll manage," I replied, softening my voice slightly. "Besides, the network is providing a personal assistant on set to handle the logistical headache. Go enjoy your time off, and congratulations again."

"Thank you, sir. I'll see you in a month." She gave a polite nod and slipped out of the room.

By the time I finished clearing the rest of the files from my desk and headed down to the executive garage, mine was the only car left in the dark. Everyone else had long gone home. I had been clocking over ten hours a day for months, burying myself in work.

Maybe, if I looked at it logically, a change of scenery wasn't the worst thing. I could kill two birds with one stone: use the mandatory production schedule to finally take a breath, and the exact second the cameras stopped rolling, I'd have my father's vote to launch Project Lily.

I drove home in silence, bypassed my study entirely, and went straight to bed.

The next morning, I woke up at seven AM feeling a strange, unfamiliar sense of rest. I spent an hour in the home gym, throwing myself into a heavy workout until the sharp chime of a production reminder buzzed on my phone. Shifting gears, I showered, threw on a dark, tailored suit, and made the drive out to the filming location.

The moment I crossed the threshold into the studio, a young man came sprinting toward me, holding a clipboard like a shield and looking completely breathless.

"Mr. Paul, good morning! I am William, your assigned production assistant," he gasped out all in one breath. "Your dressing room is ready exactly how Ms. Alle instructed, and the director says the camera crew is set up if you want to shoot your solo promo first!"

I offered him a calm, measured smile, trying to dial down the kid's obvious panic. "Relax, William. Take a breath. I'm not going to take your head off if you miss an instruction."

"Sorry, sir," William stammered, pulling his shoulders back and trying to look professional. "It's my first major project with the network. I just don't want to mess up a single detail."

"I understand," I said smoothly, adjusting the cuffs of my jacket. "Let's get the solo promo out of the way first."

"Right this way, sir," he said, quickly leading the way through the corridors.

As I followed him deeper into the main studio, the space opened up into absolute chaos. It was a dazzling, high-energy circus, bright studio lights blinding the eyes, heavy rolling cameras repositioning every few seconds, and dozens of crew members rushing in every direction to set the stage.