I stared at her, waiting for the punchline that never came.
"I'm sorry," I said finally, my voice slower than usual. Deliberate. "Can you repeat that?"
She didn't blink. Not once. She lifted her teacup, porcelain clinking softly against the saucer, and took a sip as if she hadn't just sent my pulse racing and my ears ringing.
"Callahan," she replied evenly, setting the cup down with care, "your father and I will not be handing over the companyto you unless you have a wife by the time of the annual charity ball."
The silence that followed was deafening.
I let out a short laugh before I could stop myself. "That's not funny."
"I'm not joking."
I searched her face for something—anything—that suggested this was a scare tactic. A bluff. A misunderstanding. But there was nothing. No hesitation. No uncertainty. Just the same composed certainty that had ruled my life since childhood.
I turned to my father instinctively. If this were a test, she'd gone too far. He would stop it—he always did when she crossed the line. But he wouldn't look at me. His gaze remained fixed on the table, his jaw tightening just enough to prove he'd heard every word.
My stomach dropped.
"So that's it," I said slowly. "That's really what you're doing."
My mother folded her hands in her lap. "We've been very clear."
"No," I scoffed, standing abruptly. The chair scraped softly against the floor. "You've been anything but clear. You don't get to spring this on me like it's nothing."
"This isn't sudden," she said calmly. "You've known our expectations for years."
"I knew you wanted me to settle down," I snapped. "Not that you'd hold the company hostage."
She tilted her head slightly. "That's a dramatic way to put it."
I stopped pacing and turned back to her, disbelief giving way to anger. "No, it isn't. I won't do it. You're trying to manipulate me into marrying someone for appearances."
"For stability," she corrected.
"You're trying to dictate my life."
My father finally spoke, his voice quiet. "Cal, just listen—"
"No," I cut in, holding up a hand without looking at him. "Don't. If you had something to say, you should've said it before this ambush."
Silence stretched between us. Thick. Loaded.
"This isn't an ambush," my mother said, folding her hands neatly once more. "We're trying to help you. Work can't be your only priority."
"Of course not," I said tightly. "But you raised me to prioritize the company above everything else, and now you're punishing me for doing exactly that?"
"We don't have a choice," she sighed, the sharpness of her words dulled by sudden sadness. "Investors trust stability. And after we lost the deal with the Johnsons, the board wants reassurance."
I froze at the mention of the Johnsons. It wasn't surprising that I was still paying for that mistake- my one-night stand with one of his daughters and my refusal to pursue anything further. I was at fault. I knew that. But how was I supposed to know who her father was?
"You think a wife will magically fix everything?" I asked, some of the anger draining away at the reminder.
"One can only hope."
I laughed, the sound rough and unrestrained. "Are you bluffing right now?"
My mother's eyes widened- just a fraction. "Am I?"
