[BL] Bound to My Enemy: The Billionaire Who Took My Girl Chapter 110: Condition

CASSIAN

The study was silent, save for the rhythmic, distant ticking of a grandfather clock in the hall. Sunlight slanted across the room, illuminating dust motes that danced in the heavy, still air. Louis Durant sat perfectly still, the steam from his tea curling upward like a ghost.

"Under one condition, of course," he said.

I nodded slightly, the movent sending a dull throb of pain through my temples. My professional mask felt heavy, but I kept it in place. "Of course," I replied, my voice sandpaper-rough but steady. "State your condition."

Durant leaned back into the plush leather of his chair, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. He looked like a man who had already won the ga before I’d even arrived at the table. "I want you to oversee the transition personally."

I frowned, the headache intensifying. "Oversee it?"

"Yes," Durant said, his voice dropping into a register of absolute certainty. "I want a contractual agreent that you... Cassian Wolfe, and only you... will be the one managing the integration of my late wife’s company into the Wolfe portfolio." He paused, his sharp eyes pinning to the chair. "Not your father. Not your brother. You."

My jaw tightened. This was far more complicated than I had anticipated. Acquisitions of this size were usually handled by a swarm of analysts, legal teams, and board-appointed directors. For one man to be written into the contract as the sole transition manager was highly irregular. It placed a massive target on my back and an even larger burden on my shoulders.

"That’s... not my decision to make alone," I said, choosing my words carefully. "This acquisition is my father’s initiative. He may not agree to those terms. He prefers to have his hands on the levers of the legacy assets."

Durant smiled faintly, a look that wasn’t unkind but possessed a terrifying edge of wisdom. "Then perhaps you should ask him."

I pulled out my phone, the screen still cracked from whatever happened during the blur of the previous night. I stared at the na ’Father’ on the contact list for a heartbeat, feeling the familiar, cold dread that always accompanied a call to Charles Wolfe. I dialed.

He answered on the second ring. "Cassian." His voice was clipped, businesslike, devoid of any paternal warmth. It was the voice of a CEO talking to a middle manager.

"Durant has agreed to sell," I said.

There was a pause. "And?"

"He has a condition," I continued, glancing at Durant, who was watching with an unnerving calmness. "He wants to personally oversee the transition and integration. He’s demanding a clause for full operational control during the takeover."

The silence on the other end of the line was heavy. Tense. I waited, my pulse thudding in my ears. Beside , Durant sipped his tea, the picture of patience. I expected my father to scoff, to tell it was a ridiculous demand, to instruct to tell Durant to take the money or leave it. The pause stretched... five seconds, ten... each one feeling longer than the last.

"Excellent," my father finally spoke.

I blinked, certain I’d misheard him. "What?"

"That’s perfect, actually," my father said, and for the first ti in years, I heard a note of enthusiasm in his voice. It was almost... eager. "Tell Durant we accept his terms completely."

The enthusiasm felt wrong. It was too much, too fast. My father didn’t give away power; he hoarded it. "In fact," he continued, "I’ll have the legal team draft the agreent imdiately. You’ll have full authority over the integration. Whatever resources you need, they’re yours."

My brow furrowed. I felt a cold chill that had nothing to do with the air conditioning. "You’re sure?"

"Absolutely. This is an excellent opportunity for you, son." There was a short, sharp pause. "Don’t waste it."

The call ended abruptly. I lowered the phone, staring at the dark screen as if it might reveal the hidden trap I knew was there. My father never agreed this easily. He never gave this much control. This wasn’t a reward; it was a setup. I just couldn’t see the finish line of his plan yet.

"I take it he agreed?" Durant asked.

I looked up at him, my eyes narrowing. "Yes. A little too enthusiastically."

My mind was already racing, sifting through the variables. What was the angle? Was the company in worse shape than we thought? Was I being positioned to take the fall if the integration failed? Because with my father, there was always a plan. Always an ulterior motive.

I set the phone down on the small table between us and looked at Durant directly. The hangover was a dull roar now, but the confusion was sharper. "Why ?"

Durant raised an eyebrow, his expression innocent. "I’m sorry?"

"Why do you want specifically?" I pressed. "Why not my father? Why not the board of directors? Why insist on as the sole point of contact?"

Durant smiled... a sad, knowing look that made feel exposed. "Because you’re the only one in that family I trust."

The words should have felt like a complint. They should have made feel flattered, or at least proud that I had managed to win over a man of Durant’s stature. But they didn’t. They felt hollow. Wrong. They felt like a coat that didn’t fit.

I let out a short, bitter laugh. "You might be wrong about that."

The mont I said it, Noah’s voice crashed back into my head, loud and accusing. "You’re selfish. Heartless. You manipulate people like it’s a ga. You don’t care about anyone but yourself."

I wasn’t a man to be trusted. I was a man who used people until they broke. I was the man who had fired his own assistant... the only person who had ever truly tried to understand ... because I couldn’t handle the truth of his words.

Durant studied , his gaze moving over the exhaustion etched into my face. "I know you’re not a good man, Cassian."

I t his eyes, my jaw tight. "Then why... "

"You’re a Wolfe. That cos with a certain... reputation," Durant said, picking up his tea again. "I also know about the incidents from a few years ago. I know about the associations you were forced to make. The criminal organizations. The violence that shadowed your na."