Chapter 3 The Business Empire Tycoon... Who's Never Dated?
1202 Words
After holding on a little longer, Elliot finally let go of Tracy.
"Stay put on the couch, sweetie. Mommy's going to the kitchen," she said, smoothing his hair.
Elliot nodded obediently, his emerald eyes glowing like constellations as he watched her walk away, a pang of sympathy tightening his chest.
As Taste Titans' founder, Tracy's polished image masked endless nights under kitchen fluorescents.
He'd lost count of how often he'd found her working past midnight, perfecting recipes—each dish a labor of love.
One day, Elliot vowed, he'd grow strong enough to shield Tracy from hardship and shower her with affection.
With a quiet sigh, he wondered where his deadbeat father had disappeared to. If he ever found him... there'd be hell to pay.
Tying her apron strings, Tracy pulled choice-cut ribs from the fridge—bought fresh that morning.
Sweet-and-sour spare ribs were Elliot's ultimate comfort food, a dish he'd never tire of.
Deceptively simple, yet mastering the flavor balance took skill. For Tracy? Child's play.
In the kitchen, she commanded the space. Minutes later, caramel-glazed ribs sizzled onto a porcelain plate, followed by two fresh market stir-fries.
As the rice cooker chimed, Tracy arranged the meal on a tray.
The moment she appeared, Elliot vaulted from the couch.
"Mommy, let me help!" he called out, darting to her side.
Tracy's eyes softened at his eager little frame. "Just sit at the table, love. Dinner's ready."
Elliot's stomach growled at the tangy-sweet aroma. Settling into his seat, he admired the table he'd set—two places waiting to be filled.
"Go ahead, my little gourmet. That eager look of yours is absolutely adorable." Tracy served Elliot generous portions, gazing at him with doting affection.
"Thanks, Mom! Your cooking is the best in the whole world—no contest!"
A peal of childish laughter rang out.
Tracy's eyes sparkled with amusement at her son's over-the-top praise. "Oh, stop exaggerating."
"I mean it, Mom. You'll always be number one to me." Elliot said solemnly, as if taking a sacred vow.
Tracy always felt a warm satisfaction when her lovingly prepared dishes were devoured down to the last bite—a silent testament to the joy she poured into every meal.
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Meanwhile, in the CEO's office at Grandeur Group, Gordon Hayworth was reviewing documents when his chief secretary, Cyrus, entered with an update.
"Sir, your grandfather's on his way up."
"Understood."
Cyrus felt nervous just thinking about the impending confrontation. Here was a man who dominated boardrooms effortlessly, yet his love life remained utterly lacking. Twenty-eight years without a single relationship—enough to make anyone wonder about his preferences. The fact that old Mr. Hayworth was pressuring him to date seemed like divine intervention. Part of Cyrus was genuinely curious what kind of woman could tame this arrogant, flawless man.
Only one person dared enter Gordon's office unannounced: Joseph Hayworth, the family patriarch.
The moment the elder Hayworth appeared, Gordon set down his pen, casually tucked his hands into his pockets, and strode over. "Grandfather. Another surprise visit?"
"This isn't an inspection - I'm here officially," Joseph retorted. "And you know exactly why—Cyrus must've briefed you."
Despite his age, Joseph cut a sharp figure in a stonewashed denim jacket, slim-fit black trousers, and combat boots—an ensemble that radiated timeless style. With his youthful energy, he could've passed for early sixties.
Gordon knew the agenda all too well.
"Show me what you've got," Joseph demanded, his tone brooking no argument. Behind him, the family butler Morris felt the tension mounting, mentally apologizing to his employer.
It was obvious to everyone—Gordon was furious.
Under the patriarch's stern orders, the butler had no choice but to rummage through his portfolio for the prepared photographs.
"Enough, no need for that," Gordon Hayworth's calm voice interjected. He strode to his desk and handed a folder of documents to Joseph.
Joseph blinked in confusion. What's this supposed good news about? Another lucrative corporate deal? That wasn't what he wanted—what he demanded was a granddaughter-in-law!
Then his gaze landed on the photograph. The stern lines of his face softened instantly. "Well now! Finally came to your senses?" A smirk tugged at his lips as crow's feet crinkled around his eyes.
"Tracy Page. The woman I've chosen. She's a head chef—impressive, no?"
Joseph couldn't contain his delight. At this point, he'd welcome anyone who caught his grandson's eye. The girl in the photo radiated natural charm, her unadorned beauty making her already look like family.
Yet suspicion quickly tempered his joy. After twenty-eight years of complete lack of romantic interests, could this stubborn bachelor really have changed overnight? Was this just another stalling tactic?
Joseph's piercing stare locked onto Gordon. "You'd better not be playing games with me with some random woman."
"This is different. You have my word—you'll get your happy news soon enough."
The steel in Gordon's voice satisfied Joseph. Securing a bride outweighed all other concerns. "Very well! With that settled, I can resume my travels with peace of mind."
Gordon watched his whirlwind of a grandfather depart as abruptly as he'd arrived. The old man's energy would exhaust men half his age.
No business deal had ever vexed Gordon like this marital pressure. A self-proclaimed bachelor, he found Joseph more persistent than a mosquito at bedtime. Cyrus's suggestion definitely deserved a raise.
As Joseph left Epoch Group, he immediately began orchestrating plans with the butler. "The engagement must happen immediately. Contact the Page family at once."
The butler sprang into action. After all, when Gordon finally chose someone, it was quite remarkable. One thing was certain—this wedding would happen, whether he liked it or not.
When Ethan Page got word that Joseph Hayworth, chairman of the Epoch Group, would be visiting the Page residence, he was buzzing with excitement. He waited at home eagerly, practically bouncing on his heels.
A sleek black Rolls-Royce Phantom glided to a stop in front of the Page family villa. As the doors opened, Morris, the butler, stepped forward and rang the doorbell.
Ethan flung the door open, his eyes locking onto the formidable figure of Mr. Hayworth. Even after years away from the spotlight, the man radiated the sharp command of a seasoned tycoon - impossible not to admire.
Barely glancing at Morris still at the entrance, Ethan rushed toward the patriarch, his eagerness written all over his face. "Please, do come in!" he urged, his voice thick with deference.
And why wouldn't he be thrilled? The Pages had never had even a passing connection with the Hayworths. But Joseph Hayworth visiting in person? That was the honor of a lifetime. Most people could only dream of such an association.
Joseph scanned his future in-law with a measured gaze. Out of respect for the man who'd raised his future granddaughter-in-law, he offered a token of courtesy. "After you."
Ethan nearly tripped over himself at the gesture. The man practically glowed with pride - this was true prestige personified.
As Joseph strode in, the household staff bowed in unison like courtiers before royalty. He arched a brow, visibly entertained. Now this was how you greeted VIPs.
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