"When exactly do you plan on settling down?" Grandpa continued sharply. "You are my eldest grandson. Your three brothers look up to you."
"Grandpa," Rhaegon said calmly, though tension edged his voice, "I have a lot on my mind right now. I'm closing a major deal with the Chatham Group and Foundation. I don't have time for—"
"You're always busy," Grandpa cut in. "Always surrounded by women, yet you never bring a single one home."
"Grandpa," Rheagon replied evenly, "you don't need to worry about my love life."
Grandpa turned abruptly. "Tamara."
"Yes, Grandpa?" Tamara responded.
"There's an Elite banquet at the Liu's family residence. I received their invitation. You will all attend. Asha, Lincoln, Thayford—and you, Rheagon."
"Why me?" Rheagon frowned. "I have important matters to handle."
"Well, Grandpa," Asha said quickly, "I can't go. I have a game tournament tomorrow."
Tamara blinked. "You never mentioned that."
"I did," Asha muttered. "Maybe you forgot."
Grandpa's sharp gaze moved on. "And you, Lincoln?"
"I have an exam tomorrow," Lincoln said nervously. "A crucial one. I really can't miss it."
Grandpa inhaled slowly. "Thayford."
Thayford scratched the back of his neck. "Uh… I got into trouble at school. My teacher says I have to join public sanitation duty tomorrow."
Silence fell.
Then—
"My chest—" Grandpa suddenly clutched his cane, his voice breaking. "My chest…"
The four men rushed forward. "Sir! Grandpa, what's wrong?"
"I don't—" Grandpa wheezed, fury and pain mixing in his eyes. "I don't want excuses!"
He raised his voice, trembling.
"No excuses! You are all accompanying me tomorrow. No arguments!"
He turned abruptly and stormed into his study, slamming the door behind him.
Rhaegon stood frozen for a moment—then quietly followed.
Inside the study, Grandpa Phillips stood before the shelf, his hand trembling as he lifted a framed photograph.
Emilio and Lisa.
His voice cracked.
"I don't know where I failed you both," he whispered. "Raising these boys… alone."
Tears slid down his weathered face.
The door creaked open.
Rheagon, Asha, Tamara, Lincoln, and Thayford stepped inside.
"Grandpa," Asha said softly, "we're sorry."
"We'll all go," Lincoln added quickly.
"Please don't cry," Tamara said, her voice trembling.
Rheagon stepped forward, his eyes dark with guilt.
Grandpa Phillips had always been gold to him—irreplaceable.
Hurting him was something Rheagon could never afford.
He turned away and pulled out his phone.
"Secretary Jeilar," Rheagon said quietly, "postpone my meeting with the Chatham Group's chief."
"Yes, sir," the secretary replied immediately.
"Something came up."
Rhaegon ended the call and looked back at his grandfather.
The next day, luxury cars lined the driveway of the Liu's mansion, gleaming under the morning sun. The banquet promised exclusivity, drawing elites from every sector—celebrities, CEOs, investors—all clad in designer suits and custom gowns. Inside, the hall shimmered with crystal chandeliers and polished marble, a perfect stage for status and influence.
Mr. Martin Liu welcomed guests, ostensibly to celebrate a major collaboration for the Liu Corporation. But Naomi Liu and Grandpa Phillips had other motives—they planned to use the event to announce Rhaegon Hale and Sally Liu's engagement. Reporters and search parties filled the entrance, eager for the slightest hint of scandal or gossip. Every flash of the camera promised a story.
Rose and Sally entered, poised and immaculate, their gowns flowing elegantly, makeup flawless. For Rose, this was the rare world in which she was seen as equal—recognized as a young lady of status, if only to the media.
Mr. Martin led the girls toward a circle of influential elites. The perfect opportunity to establish connections. CEOs, board members, and investors mingled: Ms. Armour of Shell Group, Mr. Stern, Mr. Bew—all eyes on the Liu sisters.
Ms. Armour extended her hand toward Rose. "You have such lovely daughters," she said warmly. "You're so beautiful… truly, you look just like your father. A replica. Your features… it's uncanny."
Mr. Stern leaned closer, whispering to Mr. Martin, "No DNA test needed. That resemblance… it's remarkable."
The compliments rained down on Rose, drawing attention and praise from every corner.
"No! She is the fake! I am the real heiress!" Sally screamed, spinning toward the group, flustered.
"Must be the adopted daughter," Ms. Armour said, finally noticing Sally.
"I am the real one!" Sally shouted. "She's always stealing my shine!"
Reporters swarmed, cameras flashing wildly, catching every expression, every outburst.
One photographer muttered, "There's no resemblance… no swapped babies… everyone can see who belongs to Mr. Martin."
The crowd erupted into laughter, the tension shifting. Praise continued to shower on Rose, composed and polite, letting her inner satisfaction remain hidden. Mr. Martin observed, calm as ever.Mr. Martin Liu stood beside Rose at every public gathering, close enough for photographers to frame them together, distant enough that no one could accuse him of favor. Under the chandeliers and flashing lights, people whispered anyway.
"She looks just like him more than his biological daughter does."
The comment followed them from gala to gala, drifting through wine-scented air and polite laughter. Rose heard it often. Martin heard it every time.
He never reacted. His face remained composed, his smile measured, his gaze always angled elsewhere. Yet each remark settled heavily in his chest. A restlessness took root there, something sharp and wordless, something he refused to name. To quiet it. Loving her openly was not a risk he could afford.
So he chose distance.
Rose noticed, even if she never questioned it aloud.
"Ms. Armour," he said lightly, "you have such a natural sense of humor."
Rose absorbed the words quietly, careful not to let them go to her head.
Sally, humiliated but trying to maintain her composure, ran to Naomi. "Mom! Rose is always stealing the spotlight!"
"It's okay, my darling," Naomi soothed. "This party is for you. Just wait until the announcement."
Sally reluctantly straightened, masking her fury.
Then, the commotion at the entrance intensified. Reporters shouted, cameras flickered, and flashes lit the grand hall. "Oh my gosh! The whole Hale family is here!" "The infamous Billionaire playboy is here!" "All the grandsons!"
Rose froze. Her eyes scanned the crowd and—there he was.
Tall, impossibly handsome, and exuding authority even through the sea of flashes. Rhaegon Hale, the billionaire playboy of DemanViel, surrounded by reporters and cameras, had entered.
Her breath caught. He wasn't looking at Sally. His gaze—intense, calculating—was fixed entirely on her.
He's here for Sally… I shouldn't let myself be caught off guard, Rose thought. She turned her face slightly, trying to appear indifferent, composed. She would not flinch.
Meanwhile, Sally rushed forward, a bouquet of roses clutched in her hands, aiming to dazzle Rhaegon with her charm and status. But Rheagon's eyes did not leave Rose. He leaned toward his grandfather, voice low but sharp:
"Who is she?"
The hall seemed to hold its breath.