Chapter 28: Chapter 28
At that moment, upon hearing his brother’s name—Oliver—William’s smile faded instantly. His mood shifted like a quiet storm rolling in. His eyes darkened with something deeper, something he couldn’t explain out loud. Even though he and Oliver had grown up sharing everything—from toys to secrets, from fights to forgiveness—there was one thing William was not willing to share. Not even with his own brother.
Cora.
Cora wasn’t just any girl. She was the only woman that made William feel like he was more than just a wealthy heir. When she smiled at him, he forgot every pressure that came with the family name. When she looked into his eyes, he felt seen—not for his last name, not for the future his father had planned, but for who he truly was. And to William, that was a feeling worth fighting for.
So the idea of his brother—his own brother—being anywhere close to sharing that same connection with her stirred something violent in his heart. A war he never asked for, but one he was more than willing to fight.
"No," he thought silently, gripping the arm of the chair. "Cora must be mine. Mine and mine alone."
There were no two ways about it.
Not Oliver, not anyone.
And if it meant stepping over his brother to get to her, then so be it. William was done playing nice when it came to matters of the heart.
But just as quickly as the storm came, it passed.
He leaned back and exhaled slowly, calming his thoughts. After all, Oliver and Cora were only close friends. Everyone in the family knew that. Even Cora herself had never acted like she saw Oliver in that way. She was warm to everyone, yes—but there was something different about the way she talked to William. The softness in her voice. The little laughs she only gave him.
So why should he let fear shake him?
Relaxing again, William’s sharp eyes softened. He turned to his father with a small, confident smile on his face.
"You don’t need to be worried about Oliver," he said gently. "He has the right to love anyone he wants. But if he doesn’t see Cora as one of them... then that’s his decision."
He paused, glancing out the window like he was already thinking several steps ahead.
"And we should learn to respect that."
At that moment, William’s father leaned back in his armchair, his brows furrowed and his voice carrying a rare note of vulnerability. "Even though I want to respect Oliver’s decision," he began, his tone heavy with disappointment, "I can’t just sit here and keep quiet, pretending like this isn’t happening. I can’t watch this opportunity walk past our family like it means nothing."
His eyes, usually sharp and commanding, were now dimmed by frustration. "Cora is important," he continued, tapping his fingers slowly against the armrest. "She’s not just any woman. She’s strong, sharp, and she comes from a powerful bloodline. Anyone with eyes can see she’s destined for greatness. And what is Oliver doing? Absolutely nothing."
He sighed, shaking his head. "It breaks my heart. It really does. The more I watch him ignore her, the more I see the future slipping away. This family could be solidified for generations if Cora comes in. But he’s acting like he can’t see what’s right in front of him."
William, who had been listening with his arms crossed and expression unreadable, finally stood up. "Don’t talk to Oliver," he said, his voice calm but firm. "I’ll talk to him myself."
His father looked at him, surprised by the resolve in William’s tone.
"I know how to reach him," William continued. "If anyone can knock sense into him, it’s me. I know what to say. Just leave that part to me."
There was a moment of silence before his father gave a slow nod. "Alright," he said, standing up as well. "I’ll leave that to you, William. But just so you know, I’m not going to leave you to do it alone."
William looked up at his father, slightly startled by those words.
"I’ll back you up in whatever way I can," his father said. "We can’t afford to lose Cora—not now, not ever."
William was still angry, but he kept his emotions buried deep. Even as he stood beside his father in the richly furnished study, his fists were clenched at his sides. The image of Oliver’s blank expression—of his refusal to act—kept replaying in his head like an insult. He won’t fight for Cora. He won’t lift a finger, William thought bitterly. He never did. And he never will.
But for now, he said nothing. There were other matters to attend to.
Just then, in another part of the city, Cora’s phone buzzed on the table beside her. She glanced over, picked it up, and immediately recognized the caller. "It’s my secretary," she said casually, swiping to answer.
As the call connected and the voice on the other end began delivering updates, Malisa—who had been lounging comfortably on Cora’s velvet couch—sat up straight, her grin wide and playful.
"Well, well, would you look at that," Malisa said, brushing her long dark hair behind her ear. "You finally let go of that trash. I swear, Cora, I never thought I’d see the day."
Cora raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress a smile, but it was no use. Malisa’s energy was too infectious.
"I’m just saying," Malisa added, with a dramatic wave of her hand. "You’ve been carrying that hidden identity around like a weight on your chest. Now that you’ve finally dropped it, you look like a whole new woman. Confident, radiant, and back to being you. I’m happy."
Cora laughed softly, tucking her phone between her ear and shoulder as she listened to her secretary finish the report. When the call ended, she put the phone down and turned to Malisa.
"You know I missed you, right?" she said, her tone soft but full of sincerity.
Malisa crossed her arms with a playful pout. "Yeah, yeah. I know."
"But now that I’m back," Cora continued with a mischievous gleam in her eye, "I’m going to stress you to the bone. I hope you’re ready."
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