The news reached the Grant family mansion in Country F before Timothy even picked up his morning coffee.
The message was simple. His grandfather knew.
By noon, the old man's personal assistant had called twice, then once more through the housekeeper, before Timothy finally answered.
"Bring your wife home," the voice said without preamble. "The old master wants to see her."
Timothy's hand tightened around the phone. Through the tall windows of his office, the city outside glittered under a cold blue sky the kind of day that looked peaceful but wasn't.
"Tell him," Timothy said quietly, "we're not coming."
There was a stunned pause.
"Sir… you know how the old master reacts to..."
"I said no."
He ended the call.
Silence reclaimed the room. For a long time, Timothy stood motionless, his reflection in the glass hard-edged and unreadable. He could almost hear his grandfather's cane striking marble floors.
The old man had ruled the family for decades. His will was a force of nature; his temper, a storm. But Emily wasn't ready to face that storm. Not yet.
And he wasn't about to throw her into a lion's den just to satisfy old bloodlines.
He turned from the window, his eyes falling on the slim folder lying on his desk. It wasn't his family's report this time. It was hers.
Jack had dropped it off earlier that morning, his tone cautious.
"Sir… you might want to see this. Miss. Emily has been reaching out to her father's company. Quietly."
Timothy flipped through the pages again. Meeting transcripts, appointment logs, a discreet visit to a corporate lawyer.
He dropped the file and left the room.
"She was trying to reclaim her shares from her father."
A slow breath escaped him.
"So," he murmured, almost to himself, "that's where your mind's been."
He sat down, fingers tracing the edge of the report. A soft knock broke his thoughts.
Jack stepped inside.
"Mr. Grant, should I prepare a response for the old master?"
Timothy looked up, his expression unreadable.
"No. Let him wait."
Jack hesitated, then nodded. "Understood."
As the door closed, Timothy leaned back in his chair. His mind flicked to Emily the way she'd smiled faintly last night when he'd accidentally brushed her hand. The calm mask she wore when she thought he wasn't watching.
Something was changing between them. He could feel it, subtle but real. a shift in gravity pulling him toward her, even when he told himself to stay still.
He opened his laptop, pulling up the Grant family's internal network. For the first time in years, he typed a personal note addressed to his grandfather.
It contained only one line:
> "You'll meet her when she's ready not when you command it."
He hit send, leaned back, and exhaled.
The storm in the capital could rage all it wanted.
In this house, for once, he'd choose peace and protect the woman who didn't even know she'd already taken root in his heart.