“Expansion,” Theo repeated. “Of the family line?”
“Of the portfolio,” Richard corrected.
He leaned back, steepling his fingers, while scanning the room.
“When I married your mother, my valuation increased eighteen percent within two years,” he said calmly, eyes coming back to me. “Perception of stability matters. Investors respond to continuity. Married men with heirs are statistically viewed as lower risk.”
Theo stared at him. “You’re talking about children like assets.”
“I’m talking about reality,” Richard said. “Marriage expanded my network, diversified my influence, and reinforced my legacy. Julian’s birth alone coincided with a twelve percent increase in long-term investment confidence.”
I clenched my jaw.
“You tracked that?” Theo asked, trying and failing to mask his horror.
I don't know why he was shocked. Dad has always been Dad.
“I track everything.” Richard’s gaze never left mine. “You don’t have the luxury of delay, Julian. You are visible. Successful. Unanchored.”
“I’m not unanchored,” I said.
“No?” he questioned calmly. “You’re becoming an isolated risk with each passing year.”
Theo leaned back, studying Richard now. “You make marriage sound like it's only good as a business incentive.”
“It’s a solution,” Richard said, eyes still on me. “One you’ve been avoiding. Did you look at the folder I sent you?”
I took a slow breath. “I don’t make decisions like this under pressure. This isn't something that can be forced.”
Richard’s mouth curved faintly, as if he had anticipated this, and yet it didn't matter. “You make decisions by solving problems. And you have a problem. You need to solve it.”
I didn’t argue because my attention betrayed me.
Shewas seated now, leaning toward the woman beside her, listening intently. Her hand rested briefly on the other woman’s forearm, an instinctive gesture of comfort.
It was an interaction that looked so easy for her, human.
The opposite of this table.
And then a man approached her. Not just any man... Graham Whitaker.
My age, from old money, sits on many philanthropic boards. With solid political access. A man whose attention carried weight. He smiled as he spoke to her, posture relaxed, familiar. She returned the smile politely, listened, and nodded. His eyes never left her.
And then he handed her a card.
Not casually.
Intentionally.
My stomach twisted, without my permission. I told myself it was only business, professional.
But why did I care?
I didn’t like questions that didn’t have leverage.
The server broke my line of sight, and I focused on the wine being delivered and our food being served. But not before my brother caught on.
Theo chuckled and smirked. “Well, damn.”
