Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
Eli
I watch Isla’s shoulders relax as Wolfe disappears into the elevator, taking his threats with him. The pride in her voice when she claimed her chosen family still echoes in my chest. Pulling her closer, I breathe in the familiar scent of her perfume, letting it ground me in this moment.
The celebration swirls around us, different now through my eyes than it was moments ago.
Every detail feels sharper, more significant – Drake’s quiet vigilance at his control panel, the way Mom keeps glancing at us with tears in her eyes, the subtle nods of respect from board members who once doubted us.
“I think we need a drink,” I murmur against Isla’s hair, steering her toward the bar where Reyna’s already pouring champagne.
“Make it a double,” Drake calls out, abandoning his tech sanctuary to join us. “After that performance, we’re celebrating properly.”
Xander materializes at my shoulder, his expression uncharacteristically soft.
“Nice timing with Wolfe. Though I think Isla handled him better than any of us could have.”
“She always does,” I say, accepting a glass from Reyna. The champagne bubbles catch the light from the sustainable fixtures above, creating tiny constellations in the glass.
Bash weaves through the crowd to join us, his trademark grin wider than usual.
“So, are we pretending that whole showdown didn’t happen, or can I start taking bets on when dear cousin James tries his next move?”
“Sebastian,” Mom warns, but there’s no heat in it. She’s watching Isla with something like fierce pride, and I realize that somewhere along the way, my chosen family became hers too.
The city sprawls beneath us, a tapestry of lights and shadows, while above, the living walls pulse with gentle bioluminescence. It’s everything we dreamed of, but better – because we’re all here, together, stronger for every battle we’ve faced.
“To family,” I raise my glass, meeting Isla’s eyes. “The one we choose, every single day.”
The toast ripples through our small circle, intimate despite the grand celebration continuing around us. This moment – this victory – belongs to all of us.
Xander checks his watch, straightening his jacket.
“Time for the official part,” he says with a slight smile. “Ready?”
I nod, squeezing Isla’s hand as we move back to the main celebration. The crowd parts naturally, years of social conditioning making way for the Alderidge family. Drake returns to his control panel, making last-minute adjustments to ensure everything is perfect for the announcement.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” Xander’s voice cuts through the ambient chatter. “If I could have your attention.”
Drake abandons his tech sanctuary to join us, giving Isla’s shoulder a squeeze as he arrives. My oldest brother stands tall, commanding the room without effort. The crowd quiets, all eyes drawn to him. Even now, he carries our father’s presence, but there’s a warmth Dad never mastered.
“Tonight, we celebrate more than just the opening of the Artisan Hotel. We celebrate a vision of the future – one that proves luxury and sustainability aren’t mutually exclusive.
” His gaze finds mine. “My brother Eli and his partner Isla have created something extraordinary here. Something that will change the industry.”
“Damn straight,” Bash calls out, earning scattered laughter.
“And let’s not forget the technological marvel making it all possible,” Drake adds, his proud grin directed at Isla.
Isla’s fingers intertwine with mine as Xander continues.
“To the Artisan Hotel, to innovation, and to family – both old and new.”
Glasses rise in unison. The champagne tastes like victory, but it’s Isla’s presence beside me that feels like home. We didn’t just survive my father’s legacy contract – we transformed it into something uniquely ours. Drake’s unwavering support and technological genius helped make it possible.
“Are you okay?” Isla squeezes my hand.
I hesitate, Wolfe’s words echoing in my mind.
“You’re more like your father than I thought.”
It should haunt me. Should make me question everything. But it doesn’t.
Because when I look at Isla, at our family, at everything we built?—
“Yeah,” I say, meaning it completely. “I don’t care what Wolfe thinks. This? This is all that matters.”
Isla’s smile is slow, knowing. “Then let’s stop giving him space in our heads.”
“To the middle child,” Bash raises his glass with a theatrical flourish, “who finally stopped trying to fix everyone else long enough to build something amazing.”
We’ve moved to the VIP lounge, away from the crowds. The space is intimate, all rich leather and warm woods, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. It’s just family now – the way it should be.
“Really?” I arch an eyebrow at my younger brother. “That’s your toast?”
“What?” He grins, dropping onto one of the custom sofas. “Would you prefer something more formal? Perhaps a PowerPoint presentation on your journey from stick-in-the-mud to actual human being?”
Xander steps in before I can respond.
“What our eloquent brother is trying to say,” he shoots Bash a look, “is that you’ve done something remarkable here, Eli. Not just with the hotel, but with everything.”
Mom moves closer, her hand warm on my arm.
“Your father always said you were the foundation of this family. But what he never understood was that foundations aren’t meant to stay hidden – they’re meant to support growth.”
“Mom...” The word catches in my throat.
Mom squeezes my arm, silencing my protest with a look I’ve known since childhood. “Edward would be proud of this place, yes. But I’m proud of who you’ve become while building it.”
Isla’s thumb traces circles on my palm, grounding me. The gesture is small, private – ours.
“Okay, enough with the heavy stuff,” Bash announces, reaching for the champagne. “We’re celebrating, remember? Though I have to ask – what’s with the living wall in the lobby? It’s like walking into a very expensive jungle.”
“It’s called innovation, you philistine,” Isla teases, falling easily into the family banter. “Some of us think beyond golden toilets and crystal chandeliers.”
Looking around at my family – Xander’s quiet strength, Bash’s irreverent joy, Mom’s gentle pride, and Isla’s steady presence – I feel something settle in my chest. The need to prove myself, to measure up to Dad’s impossible standards, doesn’t weigh as heavily anymore.
“You did good, little brother,” Xander says quietly, joining me at the window. “Really good.”
“We did good,” I correct him, watching our family’s reflection in the glass. “All of us.”
The celebration shifts as evening deepens, guests drifting between the rooftop and the hotel’s private bar. I watch Bash from across the room, recognizing the restless energy in his movements. My younger brother has never been good at staying still, especially after success.
Drake materializes beside me, his expression uncharacteristically serious.
“Got a minute?”
I nod, following him to a quieter corner. The weight of our last confrontation hangs between us until Drake finally speaks.
“Listen, about what I said that day...” He runs a hand through his hair, a rare sign of nervousness. “I was out of line. Way out of line.”
“Drake—”
“No, let me get this out.” He meets my eyes directly. “Isla chose you long ago, and I respect that. More than that, I respect both of you. What I said about not deserving her... that was my own shit talking, not truth.”
The honesty in his voice strikes deep. “You love her.”
“As a friend. As family.” His smile is genuine, if a bit sad. “And I love what you two have built together. I wouldn’t jeopardize that for anything.”
I clasp his shoulder, years of tension finally dissolving.
“We’re lucky to have you, you know that?”
“Yeah, well,” his familiar smirk returns, “someone has to keep your tech from falling apart.” His gaze shifts to something over my shoulder. “Speaking of things falling apart...”
“He’s going to crash and burn, isn’t he?” I follow his line of sight to where Bash stands.
“Probably.” I take a sip of whiskey. “The question is how spectacularly.”
As if on cue, Bash straightens, his attention suddenly laser-focused on something – no, someone – at the bar.
The woman commands attention without trying, all elegant lines and confident posture.
Her brunette hair falls in waves past her shoulders, and even from across the room, there’s something magnetic about her presence.
Isla and Reyna return from the powder room, Isla sliding naturally into place beside me. Her expression changes as she follows our gaze to the bar, tension creeping into her voice.
“Please tell me she was on the guest list.”
Drake’s already pulling out his phone.
“Checking now. After Wolfe’s little visit earlier...”
“We can’t be too careful,” I finish, watching as Bash approaches the woman, that characteristic grin of his in full effect. She meets his gaze with equal intensity, a slight smirk playing at her lips.
“Should we...” I start to move forward, but Isla’s hand on my arm stops me.
“Don’t. You know Bash – the minute we show concern, he’ll be even more interested.”
“Damn it.” I run a hand through my hair. “Tonight of all nights...”
The chemistry between them is electric, visible even from across the room. They’re talking now, heads bent close together, completely oblivious to everyone else.
Xander appears at my shoulder.
“Well, this is going to be interesting.”
“That’s one word for it.” I watch as Bash offers the mystery woman his hand, leading her toward the exit. “You know this is going to bite him in the ass, right?”
“Without a doubt.” Xander sighs. “But maybe...”
“Maybe what?”
“Maybe we’re being paranoid.” He gives me a measured look. “Not everyone is part of Wolfe’s game.”
I think of Wolfe’s earlier threats, of all we’ve been through, and can’t share my brother’s optimism. “IRIS?”
“Already running background checks,” Drake confirms, still typing. “Full surveillance protocols activated.”
“Let him have tonight,” Isla suggests softly. “We’ll deal with whatever comes tomorrow.”
I nod, pulling her closer. After Wolfe’s appearance earlier, we’re all on edge. But Bash deserves one night of uncomplicated happiness – even if my instincts are screaming that nothing about this woman is uncomplicated.
My phone buzzes. Carter’s message is typically brief.
Hamptons. Tomorrow. 9 AM. All brothers required.
“Well,” Xander sighs, reading over my shoulder. “Looks like the celebration’s officially over.”
“Your father’s timing remains impeccable, even from beyond,” Isla murmurs, and I can’t help but agree.
One perfect night before the next wave hits – it’s exactly how Dad would have planned it.
“Another damn letter.” I stare at the heavy cream envelope in Carter’s hands, morning sunlight streaming through Mom’s study windows.
The familiar weight of responsibility settles over the room as we gather – Xander and Reyna, Isla beside me, and Bash conspicuously late. The celebration from last night feels distant now, replaced by the anticipation of whatever Dad has planned next.
“Where is he?” Mom checks her watch again, worry creasing her brow.
“Probably still sleeping off last night,” Xander mutters, but his tone carries more concern than judgment.
The door bursts open and Bash strides in, looking surprisingly put-together despite the early hour.
“Sorry, traffic was hell. What’s so urgent it couldn’t wait until—“ He stops short at the sight of the envelope.
“Sit down, Sebastian.” Carter’s use of his full name makes Bash’s eyebrows shoot up, but he complies, dropping into the leather armchair near the fireplace.
“Phase Three?” Bash’s attempt at casual falls flat.
Carter nods, breaking the seal. The rustle of paper feels impossibly loud.
“Your father had very specific plans for each of you.”
I feel Isla’s hand slip into mine as Carter begins to read.
The words wash over us – Chief Financial Officer, entertainment division, Imperial Club. But it’s the personal note at the end that makes Bash’s carefully maintained facade crack.
“To my youngest son,” Carter reads, “who always saw possibilities where others saw risks. The numbers never lie, Sebastian, and you’ve always had a gift for seeing through them to the truth beneath. Now it’s time to prove it.”
“Holy shit.” Bash’s whisper carries in the silence.
He’s staring at the letter, but his usual humor is gone.
“There are conditions,” Carter continues, but Bash barely hears him.
Because for the first time, the words don’t feel like a punishment. They feel like a challenge.
“The old man finally saw it, didn’t he?” The words are quiet, almost to himself. “All those nights I spent going over the books while everyone thought I was out partying.”
Mom exhales, her voice soft. “We saw it, too, Bash.”
He looks up, startled—like maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t realized that before.
“Bash,” Mom starts, but he waves her off.
“You never said anything,” Xander says quietly.
“Would anyone have believed me?” Bash stands, pacing to the window. “CFO of Alderidge-Hathaway. With a special focus on entertainment ventures.” He turns back to us, and I’m struck by the determination in his eyes. “He’s testing me.”
“He’s believing in you,” I correct him. “There’s a difference.”
“Think you can handle it?” Xander asks, but his tone suggests he already knows the answer.
A slow grin spreads across Bash’s face – not his usual carefree smirk, but something more genuine.
“Depends. How much trouble am I allowed to have?”
“Sebastian,” Carter warns, but there’s a hint of amusement in his voice.
“Relax.” Bash picks up the letter, reading it again. “I’ve got this. Besides,” his expression shifts slightly, “I might have found a reason to take things more seriously.”
I catch Isla and Reyna exchanging glances, but now isn’t the time to mention mystery woman.
Let Bash have this moment – looking at my younger brother, I see what our father must have seen: not just the wild child, but someone capable of turning risk into reward.
The Imperial Club isn’t just an inheritance – it’s a challenge.
And knowing Bash, he’s about to make it uniquely his own.