Chapter 5: Weight of the Pass
The world unfolded beneath Sebastian Walker like a living map of commerce and ambition. From the presidential suite on the top floor of the Walker Group tower, the bustling city streets were reduced to silent, orderly lines, the cars mere specks of color. He stood before the floor-to-ceiling glass, a broad-shouldered silhouette against the skyline, a crystal glass of amber whiskey held loosely in his hand. The dark blue of his tailored shirt stretched across his shoulders, tapering to a lean waist, the very picture of controlled power.
A sharp knock at the door intruded upon his solitude. The heavy mahogany door swung open, but Sebastian didn't turn. He knew the rhythm of that step, the uninvited confidence that belonged to only one person.
The intruder made himself at home, the soft leather of the couch sighing as he dropped into it, completely unbothered by the glacial aura emanating from the man at the window.
"Saba," the man began, his voice laced with familiar mockery. "You know, you getting married is the last thing I was prepared for this year. But here we are. You're all wifed up."
Sebastian's jaw tightened. A faint vein bulged near his temple. He finally turned, his gaze cool and assessing. "Jake, as the Vice President of this company and my best friend you are currently slacking off during working hours. How do you suggest you should be punished?"
Jake rose to his feet with an easy grin, his hands shoved into the pockets of his expensive trousers. "Oh, come on, seriously? Are you just mad that I'm still a free bird? That I can stick my dick in anyone I want, and you… can't?" He let the crude statement hang, his mocking smile designed to provoke.
"You know, Saba, thank God my grandfather never made such a promise. I can't imagine my life with just one woman. Doing it with the same person every time… it gets boring, don't you think?"
Sebastian didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he walked to his monolithic desk and sat in the high-backed leather chair, the picture of imperial calm. The moment he settled, his private line buzzed, the screen illuminating with a name that made his stomach clench: Silas Walker.
He wanted to scream. He wanted to throw the phone through the impenetrable glass. Instead, he took a slow, controlled breath and answered. "Grandf"
"Saba," the old man's voice crackled, brooking no argument. "Bring your wife to the old estate for dinner today. I want to see her. No excuse is allowed."
The line went dead. Silas Walker had spoken, and the conversation was over. Sebastian slowly placed the phone back on the desk, the click echoing in the sudden silence. He leaned back, closing his eyes, the weight of the demand pressing down on him.
"Ahh," Jake murmured, settling back onto the couch, his playful demeanor shifting into something more serious. "I see trouble in paradise already? What's wrong?"
Sebastian took a long sip of whiskey, the liquid fire a temporary solace. "She looks young. Eighteen, maybe. She's still in school," he stated, his voice devoid of emotion. "From the information I've gathered, it's her final year. She's on a scholarship and works in a restaurant downtown with her friend." He set the glass down with a definitive click. "I don't see a threat from her. In fact, I overheard her planning to be a ghost in the mansion." A low, dark chuckle escaped him, a sound both beautiful and ruthlessly masculine.
Jake leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "So what's the problem, then? If she's not a threat?"
"The problem is the expectations," Sebastian said, his gaze fixed on a point in the distance. "My parents want me to marry her for a year or two for appearances, then send her packing with a generous check to start a life somewhere else. But you know my grandfather. He has his own plans. He wants a proper marriage. He wants… great-grandchildren." The word felt foreign and heavy on his tongue.
He finally looked at Jake, his expression unreadable. "My parents have their own agenda. You know how it is with the succession of the company. They want me to find someone with a powerful name, a political or corporate alliance to stabilize my position as chairman after my father. Marrying into power would make my cousins think twice before challenging me. You know how vicious they can be."
Jake shook his head, a frown marring his usually cheerful face. "The Sebastian Walker I know is competent enough to lead this group to another level all on his own. You don't need anyone's backing, and I'm sure your parents know that. So, whatever it is they want, it shouldn't matter. What matters right now is what you want to do. Do you want to stay married to her sorry, you're not even married yet or do you want to fake it? Or…" Jake hesitated, his voice dropping. "Are you still not letting go of the past?"
The air in the room froze. Sebastian's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing into shards of ice. He threw Jake a look so venomous it was a physical force. Don't you dare.
Jake immediately raised his hands in surrender and stood up. "Okay, message received. I'm going back to my office. I've got actual work to do." He walked out, shaking his head. "This guy is always so serious."
Once alone, Sebastian stood and walked to a discreet door behind his desk. It led to a private rest suite a sanctuary containing a bed, a bathroom, a walk-in closet, and a single, stunning painting. It was a portrait of a pirate ship, its sails full against a tempestuous sea. The brushwork was bold and elegant, the colors sharp, clearly the work of a master. He reached out, his fingers gently tracing the rough texture of the paint, feeling the ghost of every stroke.
Then, he carefully slid the painting aside, revealing a small, recessed safe hidden in the wall. He keyed in a complex code. The door clicked open. Inside, resting on a velvet lining, was a simple, polished wooden box. He didn't open it. He just stared, his expression a complex tapestry of pain, memory, and resolve. After a long, still moment, he closed the safe, the soft thud echoing his decision. He slid the painting back into place, concealing his secret once more.
He walked out of the rest suite, grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair, and slipped his phone into his pocket.
He strode out of the office, his presence commanding immediate attention. "Lisa," he said to his head secretary, his voice crisp. "Get the driver. I'm going home."
"Yes, Mr. Walker," she replied, bowing her head respectfully before turning to her phone.
Sebastian didn't wait. He headed straight for the private elevator, the image of the wooden box burned into his mind, a silent ghost accompanying him on his journey to meet his unwanted wife.