Chapter 5: Grandmother’s Intervention
1078 Words
Adrian Vance did not take calls from people he could ignore.
But this was his grandmother.
And you don’t ignore a woman who once canceled a board meeting because the catering was “emotionally hollow.”
His phone buzzed for the third time.
The screen read: Eleanor Vance – Grandmother – Do Not Answer (She Knows).
Adrian stared at it.
He knew what this was.
The call he’d been dreading since the video went viral.
The video of him firing Zara Reed live on camera.
The video that now had 4.2 million views, 800,000 shares, and a comment section that looked like a riot.
CEO is a monster.
She called him out and he still fired her.
This man thinks love is a spreadsheet.
I’m never buying Apex products again.
Adrian swiped the phone off the table.
It slid across the glass, hit the edge, and fell to the floor.
He didn’t pick it up.
He just sat there.
Staring at the ceiling.
At the air purifier.
At the reality that his entire life had been built on control.
And now he didn’t have it.
He couldn’t control the internet.
He couldn’t control the public.
He couldn’t control the narrative.
And he definitely couldn’t control her.
Zara.
The woman he’d fired.
The woman who’d looked him in the eye and said, “You can’t love at all.”
He hated how much that hurt.
He hated how much he wanted to prove her wrong.
He hated that he didn’t know how.
His phone buzzed again.
Eleanor.
This time, he picked it up.
“Hello.”
“Adrian,” his grandmother said.
Her voice was sharp. Controlled. Like a knife wrapped in velvet.
“You did it,” she said. “You fired someone live on camera.”
“I had to,” Adrian said. “It was part of the segment. The charity gala—”
“It was for content,” Eleanor cut in. “And you gave them exactly what they wanted.”
Silence.
“You gave them a villain.”
“I’m not a villain,” Adrian said.
“No,” Eleanor replied. “You’re a man who thinks he can optimize his way out of being human.”
Adrian closed his eyes.
“Grandmother, I didn’t mean to—”
“I know,” she said. “And that’s the problem. You didn’t mean to. You didn’t think. You didn’t feel. You just acted.”
She paused.
“Adrian, you’re going to inherit everything I’ve built. The company. The reputation. The legacy.”
Adrian didn’t speak.
“But,” she continued, “you don’t get to keep it if you can’t love like a human being.”
His stomach dropped.
“What are you talking about?”
“A contract,” Eleanor said. “A behavioral contract.”
Adrian frowned. “A what?”
“A contract,” she repeated calmly. “In which you prove that you can form a real emotional connection with someone who doesn’t need you for your money.”
Adrian blinked.
“You’re joking.”
“I’m never joking about love,” Eleanor said. “You have six weeks. Six weeks to find someone. To connect with them. To make them feel seen—and to allow yourself to be seen.”
“And if I don’t?” Adrian asked.
“Then you don’t inherit,” she said simply. “You walk away. You hand the company to the board. And you spend the rest of your life wondering what went wrong.”
Adrian stared ahead.
Six weeks.
A contract.
A test.
Of love.
Of himself.
“Who do I pick?” he asked.
“That’s up to you,” Eleanor said. “But it cannot be someone who works for you. It cannot be someone close to you. And it cannot be someone who needs your money.”
Adrian’s mind shifted.
Zara.
The woman he’d fired.
The woman who’d looked at him like he was nothing more than a spreadsheet.
The woman who had told him, without hesitation, “You can’t love at all.”
“Adrian,” Eleanor said, softer now. “I’m not asking you to fall in love. I’m asking you to try. To be honest. To be vulnerable. To be human.”
He was quiet.
“Do you understand?” she asked.
“I think so,” he said.
“Good. The contract is already drafted. You’ll have it by tomorrow. Six weeks, Adrian. Don’t waste them.”
The line went dead.
Adrian lowered the phone slowly.
Six weeks.
A contract.
A test.
He stood and walked to the window.
The city stretched beneath him—alive, indifferent.
People moved. Cars passed. Life continued.
A woman walked her dog.
A couple held hands.
A billboard loomed above it all—his face staring back at him, confident, composed, untouchable.
Like a man who had everything figured out.
He didn’t.
Not anymore.
For the first time in a long time, he felt something real.
Not control.
Not strategy.
Not power.
Fear.
Fear of failing.
Fear of being seen.
Fear of being known—and still not being enough.
He turned away from the window.
Walked to his desk.
Picked up his phone.
Dialed.
“Get me Zara Reed,” he said.
There was a pause on the other end.
“Ms. Reed?” his assistant asked carefully. “The one you just fired?”
“Yes.”
Another pause.
“Are you sure?”
Adrian glanced back at the window.
At the city.
At the version of himself reflected in the glass.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “I’m sure.”
He ended the call.
He didn’t know what he was doing.
He didn’t know where this was going.
He didn’t know if it would work.
But he knew one thing.
He was going to try.
He was going to try to love.
Even if it scared him.
Even if it broke him.
Even if it cost him everything.
Because he was Adrian Vance.
And he was done hiding behind spreadsheets.
Done hiding behind control.
Done pretending he didn’t feel.
He was going to feel.
He was going to try.
And if Zara Reed was the one he had to try with—
Then so be it.
He just hoped she wouldn’t hate him too much.
Because he was starting to realize something uncomfortable.
If she did—
He might hate himself for it.
- Writer
