SEVEN
Levi
Taewon’s quiet voice cuts through the noise in my head. “You’re breathing too hard.”
I blink, grounding myself in the present—and right into the hard look he’s been wearing for weeks. I can’t blame him. I’ve been short with everyone lately.
Last night was supposed to be my reset. A moment to crawl out of the stress spiral the merger’s become. But the truth is, it’s not the merger itself. It’s my own damn family. Their constant questions. Constant comments. Constant interference. And we can’t forget fucking emergency family meetings.
They’ve been relentless.
Then there’s their sudden enthusiasm for Miller-Moore’s involvement.
The persistent, strange fluctuation in their attitudes is not going unnoticed. Especially after Cece’s initial analysis into our Capital Funds vertical.
When the Wentworths first approached us about it a year ago, my parents were apprehensive. But then they became convinced that it was a brilliant plan since I can fulfill the clause at the same time by marrying Cece.
In the last eight months, the merger went from an idea to a reality—concrete plans were built. All while my relationship with Cece became stronger. During that time, they started quietly undermining this merger from the inside.
And now they’re eager for the consulting firm overseeing it? Potentially expediting it? It doesn’t add up. Nothing about them ever does. This back and forth is exhausting and I can feel they’re up to something. But that’s not what’s got my heart racing right now.
What’s got me spiraling is the fact that Iris is in that room. And Cece has no idea what she’s walking into.
Fuck.
She’s a few steps ahead of me, walking with that effortless composure she always carries.
I want to intercept her. Tell her. Warn her.
But I don’t. Nothing good will come out of it. We can all be professionals today and I’ll tell her later. Explain properly.
But something random flashes through my head. Iris said something that’s been stuck in my head ever since that dinner three nights ago.
“The clause is honestly diabolical. But kind of makes sense, you know? Your parents were always weirdly involved in your personal life.”
It wasn’t even a planned dinner. She’d stopped by my office to drop off Miller-Moore’s final pitch. I was already in meetings with mine and Wentworth’s VPs of Operations, aligning plans for the Coquitlam Complex debacle—the single largest logistical nightmare blocking this merger.
Gareth wanted it under Astor Holdings after the merger. Never mind that the Wentworth’s had a long standing relationship with the owner, Victor Beadle.
But that night, when everything was practically untangling, all four of us, and Taewon, ended up at dinner, somehow.
It was a passing comment later that night. Probably nothing more than her potentially connecting the old rusted dots. But it hit me hard. Because she was right.
They were always subtly there—vetting my friends, inserting themselves into every inch of my life. But I always thought it stopped at early adulthood. Now I’m not so sure.
I’m wondering if even this presidency—this title I’ve broken myself to earn for the past decade—is a controlled, conditional farce. And I wonder…
Did they interfere with me and Iris, too?
I never even told them about her—I was waiting until I thought she was someone I could build a future with. Until I figured out how to integrate her into the Astor world without a blowback.
Maybe they already knew. Maybe they acted long before I could. My gut tells me I’ve missed something, something big. And it probably ties into my presidency.
“A-i-ssi, Levi,” I hear Taewon again, closer this time. “Control your breathing.”
I exhale heavily and look over at him, deadpan. “Apologies, Mr. Choi, if my breathing bothers you.”
He gives me an amused look. “You sounded like you were hyperventilating, Mr. Astor.”
I roll my eyes and keep walking. Taewon’s passive aggressive concern doesn’t bother me. It’s twelve years too late for him to be abandoning this Astor ship we’ve both been sailing on.
Cece is farther ahead now, about to enter that damn conference room. I swallow hard and quickly catch up to everyone.
They’re all here. Grace Miller. Iris Desmond. Somehow—even Ryan Moore, of Miller-Moore, has joined us in the flesh. Cece, Taewon, and I make our introductions with the usual, practiced polish. I keep a cautious eye on her as she approaches Iris for a handshake.
“Nice to finally put a face to those emails, Ms. Desmond,” she says with that calm, warm smile of hers.
I hold my breath. Taewon’s standing beside me, probably ready to ram his elbow into my ribs. I can feel the weight of his stare drilling into the side of my skull. I should’ve told Cece the truth before we walked in here. Fuck. I know I should have.
Iris, to her credit, takes the handshake—though she looks a touch nervous.
“It’s my pleasure,” she says. “I… I’ve heard a lot about you, Ms. Wentworth.”
Cece nods, a professional smile on her face. “All good things, I hope.”
We settle around the table, the click of chairs and shuffling papers filling the quiet.
The next two hours are a blur of slides, clauses, and capital structuring—Miller-Moore walking us through the full agreement deck. Iris presents with crisp clarity, Grace fields most of the questions, and Ryan—well, Ryan simply observes.
By the time we’re wrapping with last-minute amendments, a low current of anticipation hums in the air.
This is it.
We’re a step closer to this merger becoming a tangible reality. When we reach the final pages, when the pens meet the dotted lines, I catch Cece’s eye—and for a fleeting second, it’s like the rest of the room disappears. Her expression is this perfect blend of pride and quiet relief.
We just locked in one of the most sought-after M&A firms in the market. The entire Wentworth Group and Astor Holdings’ Real Estate—merging under our roof. With Cece and I spearheading it. I hope my eyes tell her without so many words of how proud I am of us. Of her.
Signatures are swift. Grace and Ryan share a firm handshake, then a quick side hug with Iris. Everyone’s easing up now, tension bleeding into soft conversation and scattered congratulations.
I step closer to Cece, lowering my voice. “You okay?” I murmur.
She doesn’t answer, not verbally. Just leans slightly into me, her gaze fixed on our signatures like they’re something sacred.
I press a kiss to her forehead. Maybe it’s unprofessional, but I don’t give a damn. I just had a feeling she needed me nearer.
Moments later, the room shifts into looser clusters—people pairing off, glasses clinking softly as a celebratory cart rolls in with champagne.
Taewon appears at my side, sliding in after excusing himself from Grace. He gives me a firm pat on the back. “This is exciting. You excited?”
I sigh. “It’s only the beginning, Taewon.”
“But not a bad start, right?”
I grab two flutes off the cart, smirking. “Shouldn’t have taken us this long to get here.”
He reaches for one, shaking his head at my cautious pessimism.
I step sideways. “Get your own,” I deadpan.
He rolls his eyes. “Really?”
“Really.”
He grabs another and mutters under his breath, just loud enough for me. “Aaiii-sh… babo.” (Fuuuuh… idiot)
“I know what that means, Mr. Choi.”
“Oh, I know you do.” He smirks into his glass, all smug and unbothered.
Shit. All this made me lose my fiancée. I scan the room to find her in one of the corners, making conversation with…
Fuck.
“Neon jinjja meongcheongi-ya, Levi,” Tae whispers beside me before snorting. (You’re such an idiot, Levi)
“I think I know what that means as well… and you might be right,” I tell him, my gaze still on the two women. “Shit, I should’ve told her.”
“Yep. You should have.”
I don’t pay him an excuse and quickly walk over to them. My steps are brisk. Not rushed, but not casual either because my legs suddenly want to give out with panic. I’m aware of every heartbeat, every tick of time. The champagne flutes in my hand trembling.
As I reach them, Iris notices me first. She smiles politely. Cece has her back to me. She doesn’t immediately react when I slide in next to her. So I offer the second flute to her. “There you go, baby,” I whisper low and soft.
She hesitates for a second, frowning like she’s doing some mental calculations. Then gently, “I’m good. Thank you, though.”
There’s some warmth in her voice. But there’s also distance. My stomach clenches.
She turns to Iris with that same easy grace. “Would you like it instead?”
“Oh—uh…” Iris gives a small nod. “Sure, thank you.” She takes the glass. A little too carefully like she’s avoiding any contact with me. Her overt caution is now sending uneasiness up my spine.
I don’t move from beside Cece, suddenly a ghost in my own moment. Then Iris says it. The thing that turns my blood to ice.
“As I was saying, Ms. Wentworth,” she says, continuing some conversation that was cut short by my arrival, “I’m really glad you understand. It’s honestly great that we all can move forward professionally, you know.”
Wait—what?
My chest tightens.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
That’s what they were talking about? That?
My eyes shoot to Cece. She has that same weightless smile on her face. But I know what lies underneath that tiny imperceptible flicker.
It’s hurt. Plain hurt.
“I agree,” she says, nodding slowly. “It’s been what, a decade since you two broke up?”
Iris blinks, caught off guard. “Yes. A decade exactly.”
Shit. She already knew.
“Well, I’m really glad for your success,” Cece adds, tilting her head slightly. “Stanford is a great school, Iris.” Her voice is velvet, but I know her tells. The way she curls her fingers into loose fists. The small pause before ‘Stanford.’
Iris responds with a polite smile. “Oh, it was wonderful.”
Cece’s eyes stay kind through the blatant betrayal swimming in them. “I’ve heard a lot about his Stanford days,” she says lightly.
Yes, she has. Stories. Jokes. Class projects. The stupid startup ideas that flopped. Never a serious girlfriend. But now, that ex-girlfriend is here. Making small talk with my fiancée.
The tension doesn’t escalate. If anything, it starts to ease, surprising me. The smiles become almost real. The words, a little less stiff. But I haven’t said a word. Because my throat wouldn’t allow me the dignity to defend myself from the indefensible.
So I stand there like a jackass with a frozen smile, watching my woman maneuver grace and history in real time.
But inside? I’m fucking spiraling.