Chapter 2 - Callahan
If resignation had a sound, it would be the steady exhale I let out as my mother continued her monologue.
"At your age, Callahan, it simply isn't reasonable anymore," she said, folding her hands neatly atop the polished dining table. "Men who wait this long either don't want commitment, or they're hiding something."
I raised a brow at that. "Are you trying to ask me if I'm gay?"
Her eyes widened slightly. "Well, are you?"
I rolled my eyes, unable to hide my disbelief at the situation I'd somehow found myself in. "I'm not gay."
"You might as well be," she grumbled. "With the way you repel women. I just don't understand what you have against marriage."
Nothing would be the answer—if it were an actual question.
I had nothing against marriage. I simply hadn't found the right woman yet, and I wasn't willing to settle for less.
My mother believed she was doing me a favor by forcing the topic, but all it did was make me dig my heels in harder against her plans.
I glanced at my father, who suddenly found the ceiling, the walls, and his glass of water far more interesting than me. I wanted to know what he thought. Deep down, I knew he would side with her to keep the peace—but there was always a chance. A small one. And I had to take it.
"Dad," I said, keeping my voice even. "You're awfully quiet."
He shifted in his chair, just slightly, as if my voice had startled him. His gaze flicked toward me, then immediately away.
"Well," he began, clearing his throat, "your mother is just trying to look out for you."
"I'm sure she is," I said. "But I'd like to hear your opinion. Do you think I need a wife?"
"Your father and I are in agreement," my mother said smoothly, cutting him off before he could respond.
The words landed with finality, sealing whatever small opening I'd hoped for. My father opened his mouth, clearly intending to add something else—then stopped. I saw the exact moment he reconsidered. One glance at her. One silent warning. And he retreated.
I stared at them in mild wonder. How my mother, in all her short glory, managed to conquer my giant of a father was beyond me.
"I don't mean to nag, but you're not getting any younger," she said. "You're already thirty, for Christ's sake."
I arched a brow. "My birthday was less than a month ago."
"I know. Which is why we need to get ahead of this." She tapped her manicured finger once against the table. "You attend galas alone. You travel alone. You're consistently seen with no one. It invites speculation."
"Speculation about what?" I asked. "That I'm a workaholic?"
Her eyes sharpened. "That you can't commit."
I let out a quiet laugh and shook my head. "You're lecturing me about commitment? You've had the same haircut since I was ten."
Her mouth twitched, but she stayed firm. "Sarcasm doesn't change facts."
My father shifted again, staring into his water glass like he might find a way to drown quietly.
I rubbed my thumb over the rim of my coffee mug and focused on keeping my voice steady. If I raised it, it would only confirm her unspoken belief—that I was emotionally volatile and therefore unfit for leadership. That was always the subtext whenever anything personal came up.
"The company needs stability," she continued. "The board needs stability. Investors need stability."
There it was.
Not Callahan needs stability. Not Callahan deserves happiness.
The company.
The board.
The investors.
"I'm stable," I said.
"You're predictable," she corrected. "That isn't the same thing."
I leaned back, dragging my gaze between them. "And if I refuse?"
"Then you lose the company."
For a moment, I was certain I'd misheard her.
Those words didn't belong in this room—didn't belong coming from her—didn't make sense after everything I'd sacrificed to get us here. Her voice remained calm, measured, as though she'd commented on the weather instead of detonating something inside my chest.
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 company to 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?"
Not knowing what else to do, I stormed out of the room and dialed my lawyer before I'd even reached the front door. I was in my car by the time he answered.
"Can my parents withhold the company from me unless I get married?"
"That's awfully dramatic," he snorted, perfectly accustomed to me cutting straight to the point.
"Well, can they?"
"They hold the majority shares. And if the board backs them, yes- it's possible."
Shit.
Looks like I do need to find a wife.