Chapter 5 - The Shadow of Grant Holloway
The cold November wind swept through the arched entry, bringing with it the smell of approaching rain. Framing the doorway stood a man in his late fifties, impeccably groomed, wearing an English wool topcoat over a three-piece charcoal suit. A silver cane rested lightly in his right hand, though he walked without a limp.
Behind him stood two men in dark suits carrying leather briefcases—lawyers.
Grant Holloway had arrived.
The murmur from the ballroom erupted into stunned silence as guests recognized the estranged patriarch. For seven years, Grant’s name had been radioactive in this family. Now, he walked into the reception hall with the easy arrogance of a monarch surveying his private estate.
“I told you, Allison,” Grant said, his deep, resonant baritone echoing off the limestone walls. “When handling a Holloway, you never leave loose ends. Emotions make people sloppy.”
Lily gasped and buried her face in Rachel’s side. Rachel stiffened, her jaw clenching so hard the muscles in her cheek twitched.
Noah turned slowly. He didn't rush forward; he didn't shout. He stood tall, his broad shoulders squared, confronting the man who shared his blood and nothing else.
“You’re trespassing, Grant,” Noah said, dropping the title of father entirely. “This venue is private property.”
“Actually, it isn't,” Grant said smoothly, pulling off his black leather gloves finger by finger. “I bought the controlling shares of this country club three weeks ago. Technically, Noah, you are my guests.”
A collective gasp rippled from the ballroom entrance, where dozens of onlookers were now peering around the archway, phones secretly beginning to record the spectacle.
“You think this is a game?” Noah demanded, stepping toward his father. “You think you can buy my company, buy my fiancée, and force me back under your thumb?”
“I don’t play games, son,” Grant replied, stopping three feet away. His cold gray eyes—identical to Noah’s—scanned the scene with clinical detachment. “I run a multi-billion-dollar dynasty. When your mother died, she left behind an archaic family trust. Twenty million dollars, held in escrow by her estate.”
May you like
Grant tapped the tip of his cane against the floor.
“A trust that unlocks on your thirtieth birthday—which happens to be next week—provided you are legally wed. If you remain unmarried, the entirety of that twenty million reverts directly back to Holloway Dynamics.”
