Sebastian stood in front of his father’s desk, unsure why he had been called.
Ever since the declaration at dinner, he had made a point of avoiding Matthew. His father had never cared much for his feelings before, and Sebastian had no reason to believe that had suddenly changed.
"Sit," Matthew said.
Sebastian didn’t move imdiately. He only stared at him.
Matthew, anwhile, seed entirely unbothered. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass of scotch, watching it catch the warm light of the study before taking a slow, appreciative sip.
Then he poured another glass.
"For you," he said, sliding it across the desk. "Have it. It’s Macallan 25." He leaned back slightly in his chair. "I opened this bottle the day you were born."
Sebastian’s expression didn’t change.
Matthew continued calmly. "I took a sip every ti you achieved sothing." He glanced at the bottle beside him. "Still full."
Sebastian rolled his eyes.
Of course. Leave it to his father to mock him so brutally while offering a scotch he knew Sebastian would never refuse.
Now he had two choices.
Be prideful... and reject it.
Or...
Sebastian picked up the glass. The aroma alone told him it was exceptional. He took a slow sip.
Damn. It was really good.
"Good, isn’t it?" Matthew asked casually.
Sebastian didn’t answer imdiately. The taste lingered on his tongue as he studied his father more carefully.
"I do not know the world very well, Sebastian," Matthew said after a mont.
His voice had changed slightly.
"I was born into surplus. Private school... to frat house... to the family business that was already a listed company."
He gestured vaguely with his glass.
"My path was straight. I flew high above everything."
He paused.
"I never once stopped to look at the flowers on the ground."
Sebastian frowned faintly.
Matthew took another sip. "And I was jealous of you."
Sebastian blinked. Jealous? He had spent most of his life convinced his father simply despised him. Where in the world was jealousy coming from?
Matthew reached for the bottle again, turning it slowly in his hand.
"I took the second sip when you were in elentary school," he said. "The day you stood up for that scholarship student. You knew it would make you an outcast among the other boys... and you did it anyway."
Sebastian’s fingers tightened slightly around the glass. He didn’t think his father cared about him enough. How did he rember sothing from so long ago?
Matthew continued. "The third sip... when you defied and chose Ancient Languages as your major."
A faint smile appeared on his lips. "I wanted you in business. You had the scores for it too."
His eyes shifted back to the drink in his hand. "And now..." He raised the glass slowly. "The fourth sip."
Sebastian stared at him. The words didn’t sound like mockery. They sounded... almost like admiration. Which made even less sense.
Finally, Sebastian frowned and leaned forward slightly. "Are you diagnosed with so fatal illness?" he asked bluntly.
Matthew looked up.
Sebastian shrugged. His voice trembled despite his effort to keep it steady. "How long do you have?"
Because this entire conversation... Made absolutely no sense.
Matthew stared at him for a second, and then he burst out laughing. "This is what you think?" he said between breaths, shaking his head with a wry smile. "We were never close, were we?"
"You’ve been drinking," Sebastian said quietly. He could hear the faint slur creeping into his father’s voice.
Matthew waved a hand dismissively. "That girl," he said. "I heard you paid ten grand to bail out her brother recently."
Sebastian’s hands clenched instantly. If his father said even one insulting word about Beatrice...
"I looked into her," Matthew continued, calm and thoughtful. "I assu you did too." He swirled the scotch in his glass, watching the amber liquid move slowly. "Poor thing," he murmured. "She’s suffered quite a lot."
Sebastian blinked, his anger faltering. What... was happening?
Matthew leaned back in his chair and waved his hand vaguely. "And that Harrington girl..." he muttered. "Forget her."
Sebastian froze.
Matthew sighed. "I never really understood you," he admitted. "But this... I get."
His gaze drifted toward the ceiling as if searching through old mories.
"My marriage with your mother was political too," he said. "But your mother never ran to my mother to complain about ."
His lips curved faintly. "I can see how that might beco... irritating."
Sebastian’s heart began pounding. The words sounded impossible, but the aning was unmistakable.
Matthew looked back at him and said casually, "I’ve already told the Harringtons we can annul the engagent."
"Really?"
Sebastian shot to his feet in disbelief.
"But Mom—"
"I’ll talk to her," Matthew interrupted calmly. "I’m a man. I understand why you don’t like that girl."
A rush of relief flooded Sebastian’s chest. "Thanks, Dad. I’ll—"
"But." Matthew lifted a finger, his voice thickening slightly with the alcohol. "But I do have a condition."
He paused, reconsidered, and smirked. "Well... two conditions if you want to marry that dove."
Sebastian exhaled slowly.
Of course... His father was still a businessman. Every deal had two sides.
And dove...
Sebastian blinked once at the nickna.
Strangely enough, it suited Beatrice perfectly. His lips curved faintly at the thought.
Matthew raised one finger. "First. You join the Remington Insurance Company."
Sebastian pressed his lips together. He had expected this.
Matthew raised a second finger. "Second... you stop wearing those ridiculous costus of yours and start acting like a Remington."
Sebastian stared at him for a second. Then he scoffed. He set the glass down and turned toward the door.
"What does acting like a Remington even an?" he said sharply. "You know what—forget it. I can survive by myself."
He began walking out. "Wait."
Matthew pushed himself up from the chair. The sudden movent made him stagger slightly. "At least promise you won’t wear those costus to the office—"
His balance slipped.
Sebastian reacted instantly. "Dad! Careful."
He caught him before he could fall.
Matthew leaned against his shoulder, chuckling softly. "Sebastian..." he said quietly. For a mont the drunken haze seed to fade from his eyes.
"I need soone beside ." His hand rested heavily on Sebastian’s arm. "And I’d be happy if it were you."
Sebastian inhaled slowly. Up close, he suddenly noticed things he had never paid attention to before.
The deep wrinkles around his father’s eyes...The grey creeping through his hair...
Matthew Remington had always seed enormous when Sebastian was young. He was towering, untouchable, and distant.
But now... He looked older than Sebastian rembered... and smaller.
A vague mory surfaced of his first day of school. His father carried him through the gate because he refused to walk inside alone. That might have been the last ti Sebastian had stood this close to him.
And now...
Now he was the one holding his father upright.
Sebastian exhaled quietly. "I’ll think about it, Dad."
Matthew smiled at him, softly, almost boyishly. "I’m very proud of you, son." His voice cracked slightly on the last word.
Sebastian scoffed. But his eyes burned suddenly.
"It takes you getting drunk to say that," he muttered.
After making sure his father was steady and seated again, he poured him so water. After informing his mother, Sebastian left the study and walked back to his room.
Beatrice was waiting inside. She looked up the mont he entered, her eyes wide with nervous anticipation.
Sebastian stood there for a mont, watching her. Everything suddenly felt heavier than before.
His future, his family, and his choices... all of it seed to balance on a single answer.
"Have you thought about it?" he asked quietly. He stepped closer. "Will you marry ?"
If you say yes... I will change the entire direction of my life. My parents will give you all the love you never had growing up.
Just say yes.
Please.
Sebastian held his breath, praying silently as he waited for her answer.
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