Michael Bardin's pov
Michael had returned to the States under no illusion of peace. His presence wasn't announced, nor was it meant to be. The decision to take control hadn't come overnight it was the result of a long, quiet conversation with the one man whose voice still carried weight in his world, his grandfather. The old man had called him home, not with pleading, but with the kind of calm finality that meant things had gone too far. James was spiraling. His uncle's arrogance had finally caught up with him one public misstep after another, dealings that stank of desperation, and scandals that dragged the Bardin name through dirt they were never meant to touch."You were always meant to take the lead," his grandfather had said, voice low but steady. "Now is the time. End it." So he did.
James was gone within the week removed without noise, without spectacle. Michael didn't need a press conference. He didn't need the world's approval. The board followed him without question; the empire shifted without resistance. After all, Michael wasn't just another heir he was the quiet architect behind most of the family's wealth. Unknown to many, but feared by those who mattered, he had built holdings across continents, layered beneath false names and silent partnerships. He was a man whose influence echoed in rooms he never had to enter.
The mission that followed he wasn't supposed to go. It had been assigned to someone else. But after years of operating in the shadows, something tugged at him to see it through personally. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was the way his grandfather had looked at him before he left like he knew Michael was about to meet something or someone. And then he saw her. Lisa Richards.
There was no reason she should have stood out not to someone like him. But she did. Something about her presence cut through the static. She didn't try to charm him. Didn't stumble or flatter. She spoke plainly, carried herself with quiet strength, and met his gaze as though she knew exactly who he was and simply didn't care. He found himself thinking about her more than he intended. It wasn't desire not yet. It was something deeper, curiosity, a strange pull he couldn't explain. When her family invited him to dinner, he accepted. Probably because of the merger, yes but more than that, he wanted to see her again,to study her in her natural space. Unfortunately, what he found surprised him, he was utterly dumbfounded not even the maids in their family were treated that way. They humiliated her, Casually, Comfortably, as though it was routine, Little jabs cloaked in humor, dismissive glances, silences that spoke louder than insults. She didn't lash out, She didn't beg for attention. She simply endured chin lifted, voice steady, eyes dimming only for a moment before she caught herself. And Michael watched. Not just out of interest but out of something he hadn't felt in a long time. A flicker of protectiveness, Of possession, He had no idea who she truly was. But he knew one thing, he wanted to find out.
The dinner, though meant to be cordial, began to feel more like a poorly staged performance the kind where every actor believed themselves to be the star. Michael sat still, composed as ever, but inwardly his patience was thinning, unraveling thread by thread. Vivian was the first to test him. Her laughter was grating too loud, too eager and her attempts at flirtation were painfully obvious. She leaned in every time she spoke, her fingertips lingering too long on his shirt. Michael offered her nothing. No glance, no smile. Just the sharp edge of indifference. Claire, thankfully, kept her distance seated far enough not to reach him, though not far enough to hide her intent even if she was married, it seemed like the entire family was rotten without shame. She watched him like he was prey. Every time he turned slightly, he caught her eyes, Unblinking, Interested. But still she didn't approach. Perhaps she sensed she wouldn't get far.
And then there was Veronica, Lisa's stepmother. The woman oozed vanity and false charm. Her dress was too tight, her laughter too practiced, and her perfume hung in the air like a warning. She winked at him, once… then again. Her heavily powdered face creased awkwardly, trying to seduce with an expression better suited to manipulation than desire. He couldn't decide what was worse, the desperation in her eyes or the illusion that she still believed she had control over anything in the room. Every time she smiled at him, he felt like the room was shrinking.
And Lisa, quiet and watchful, sat among them, carrying a weight she never acknowledged. The remarks thrown at her were subtle but sharp. Dismissive comments cloaked as jokes. Interruptions when she tried to speak. Disdain disguised as family banter. It was all so casual, so rehearsed. As though this was the role she had been given long ago and she had simply learned to play it in silence. Then she stood,No word, No apology, Just a graceful rise from her chair and a quiet retreat from the room, like she was slipping out of a place that had never truly seen her. Michael didn't hesitate, walking after her, leaving one to wonder how no matter what he does, he always has his cold aura accompanied with a composed elegance that was a rare image to capture. He reached the steps just in time to catch the glint of her car disappearing down the road, swallowed by silver moonlight and shadow. He stood still, jaw clenched, heart oddly unsettled. There was something about her something in the way she carried her pain quietly, in the way she didn't beg to be understood. And now she was gone.
A faint rustle behind him "I want everything you can get on this family," he said, his voice low and clear, his back still turned, "every single one of them, including those in the grave" The air shifted as the figure behind him stopped. "Especially her," Michael continued. "I want her history. Her habits,Who she speaks to, Who she avoids, What she's trying to hide, Everything." A beat of silence, a silent nod and the presence behind him vanished like a whisper. Michael remained at the top of the steps, hands in his pockets, staring down the path she had taken. He didn't know what he had just stepped into, not fully. But something told him this wasn't going to be simple. He remained in his thoughts till he entered the car and sped off
***
As soon as the car rolled to a stop, Edmund stepped briskly out of the house and approached. With practiced formality, he opened the car door just as Lisa shifted in her seat. She stepped down gracefully, her posture untouched by the evening's bitterness. Without a word, she ascended the steps, every movement calm, precise, and composed. Talia rushed out moments later, her footsteps light and hurried as she followed closely behind, calling softly after her. Lisa pushed the door to her room without any form of hesitation, walking straight to the bed, she pulled off her heels, at that moment talia barged in heaving heavily "Lisa" she called amidst her pant " talia you did not have to walk me in just drop those files there I'm fine" she said smiling " you can deceive anyone in this world but you should know it will never work on me...." She said quietly approaching lisa before seating and wrapping her arms on Lisa's shoulder, "I know you probably don't want to talk about it and it's fine, as long as you're fine I'll be happy okay" she said smiling, "I'm okay, Talia, thank you " she responded smiling reassuringly "I just need to go soak myself work on these documents and call it a night" Talia looked at lisa with concern her forehead creasing in concern but she soon exposed her teeth in joy "Ok that's good... I'll go downstairs and talk to the maids about breakfast tomorrow okay I'll be staying over tonight so if you need anything you could just hang out with me" she said while leaving the room. Talia had always been like a sister to her genuine and always available in her life ever since they were kids. Her thoughts wandered through all that had transpired. 'If only my life could be just a little happier,' she whispered to herself, the weight of longing heavy in her voice.
All of a sudden, his name echoed in her mind Michael. It struck her with a strange intensity, as though it carried more weight than she had initially realized. There was something undeniably off about him, something she couldn't yet define, but it lingered just beneath the surface, like a whisper she couldn't quite catch. She couldn't place her finger on it, but her instincts were quietly alert, as though they sensed a deeper truth waiting to reveal itself. Michael intrigued her, he was calm, deliberate, and carried an air that seemed both composed and unreadable. On the surface, he appeared courteous, charming even but there was a subtle edge to him, a presence that sent a chill through the air whenever he entered the room. It wasn't fear she felt exactly, but there was something eerie about him. What puzzled her the most was his decision to defend her. He had no obligation, no reason to involve himself in her chaos. He could have remained silent, indifferent. And yet, he stepped in firmly, without hesitation. Why? What did he stand to gain? Was it mere coincidence or something more deliberate? The more she thought about it, the more the questions multiplied, each one more unsettling than the last. There was a part of her that wanted to trust him, to see his actions as genuine, but another part more cautious and bruised by experience whispered that nothing came without a price. She stared into the distance, her mind caught in the puzzle that was Michael. And still, no answer came. Without knowing it sleep sneaked into her room and wrapped her in it's warm embrace.
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