9. Edward
Edward
T he acquisition folder lay open on my desk like an indictment, the morning light streaming through my penthouse windows casting harsh shadows across the documents I'd been avoiding for hours.
I'd barely slept after the library encounter—Lili's words echoing in my mind, the image of her face inches from mine refusing to fade. I'd always prided myself on compartmentalization—work stayed at work, personal remained personal, emotion had no place in either.
Yet here I sat, staring at documents I should have reviewed the moment they arrived, because some part of me already suspected what I'd find within those pages.
I reached for my coffee, noting with characteristic precision that my hand trembled slightly.
Edward Grosvenor did not tremble. Edward Grosvenor maintained control in all situations. But then again, Edward Grosvenor had never been faced with documents that could destroy the first genuine connection he'd felt in years.
The cover page bore Pemberton & Associates' letterhead, Sir Malcolm's bold signature authorizing me to proceed with "Project Wildflower"—the acquisition of Gardens & Home Television's UK operations.
My throat constricted as I flipped through pages of financial analysis, market projections, and strategic recommendations.
Projected losses of ￡2.3 million in the first quarter alone. Market research showing British audiences found the American approach "aggressively enthusiastic." Recommendations for immediate restructuring—corporate speak for dismantling everything Lili had worked to build.
My mobile buzzed against the glass surface of my desk, the sound sharp in the early morning quiet.
James's name flashed on the screen.
"Rather early for you to be calling," I said by way of greeting, my voice rougher than intended.
"Malcolm wants you in the office by eight. He's moved the board meeting to this afternoon." James's voice carried an odd tension. "There's something else, Edward. About the American acquisition—"
"I know what it is." The words came out flat, devoid of the professional confidence that usually characterized my speech.
In the background, I could hear the familiar sounds of our office—keyboards clicking, phones ringing, the ordinary machinery of legal commerce about to destroy something extraordinary.
A pause. "Do you? Because I'm looking at the company profile right now, and the board decided to accelerate the acquisition —"
"Fuck." The profanity escaped before I could stop it, a rare crack in my linguistic armor.
"Well, that answers that. Edward, this is—"
"Complicated. Yes, I'm aware." I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling the beginning of a headache that had nothing to do with caffeine withdrawal. "How long have you known?"
"Since the last night. I've been trying to come up with a solution.
" James's voice softened with something that might have been sympathy.
"Malcolm's pushing hard for immediate closure.
There's something else, Edward. Your Mother's been in contact with Malcolm.
Apparently, she's one of the board members of the buyer and she’s rather invested in the timeline of this particular acquisition. By Friday, if possible."
Friday. Three days. I thought of Lili in the library, moonlight in her hair, speaking about her Mother's sacrifices and her fear of forgetting where she came from.
In three days, her dreams would be reduced to liquidation figures and redundancy packages.
"I have to go," I said.
"Edward—"
I ended the call and stared at the documents with something approaching despair.
My coffee cup slipped from nerveless fingers, the porcelain shattering against the hardwood floor with a sound that seemed to echo my disintegrating composure.
Ethiopia's finest blend spread across European oak—an apt metaphor for what this acquisition would do to every carefully maintained boundary in my life.
Fifteen years of legal practice, countless successful acquisitions, and I'd never once questioned the human cost of my work.
People were assets to be managed, companies were puzzles to be solved.
Clean. Efficient. Emotionally sterile.
But Lili had changed that.
Lili, with her infectious enthusiasm for helping people grow gardens they could afford, her genuine care for every caller who sought her advice.
Lili, who made me remember what it felt like to want something beyond the next victory, the next deal, the next step up the ladder I'd been climbing without questioning where it led.
The sound of my penthouse door opening interrupted my spiral into unwelcome self-reflection. I looked up to see Daphne entering without announcing herself—a privilege I allowed no one else, but then Daphne had always operated by her own rules.
"Good morning, brother dearest." She moved with her characteristic grace, but something was off. Her smile seemed forced, and she kept glancing at her phone.
There was a nervous energy about her, a barely contained excitement that seemed at odds with the early hour. "I hope you don't mind the early visit, but I wanted to discuss last night."
"There's nothing to discuss." I closed the acquisition folder with deliberate calm, but not before I saw her eyes flick toward it with curiosity. "Last night was a lapse in judgment. Nothing more."
"A lapse in judgment?" Daphne raised an eyebrow, settling into the chair across from my desk with the familiarity of someone who'd done so a thousand times before.
As if on cue, her phone chimed. She startled slightly, her hand flying to the device before she caught herself.
"Sorry, it's just... work." She cleared her throat, attempting to regain her composure.
"Edward, the entire library practically vibrated with tension when I walked in. You looked like you were about to—"
"I looked like I was having a private conversation with a guest in our home." My voice carried the warning tone that usually made subordinates back down. Daphne merely rolled her eyes, though her fingers twitched toward her phone again.
"Oh, please. You've never looked at anyone the way you were looking at Lili.
" Her phone chimed again, and she quickly glanced at it, her entire expression softening in a way I'd never seen before.
Her fingers flew across the screen, typing what appeared to be a lengthy response, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
When she looked up and caught me watching, she flushed scarlet. "Which brings me to why I'm here."
I waited, saying nothing, adjusting my cufflinks in the methodical way that helped me maintain control. In negotiations, silence was often more powerful than words.
"I'm worried about you," she continued, but her tone lacked conviction. Her phone buzzed in her hands, and this time she couldn't hide her eagerness as she read the message. "And about Lili. This thing between you two—it's complicated, isn't it?"
"Define 'thing.'" I reached for my coffee again, only to remember I'd shattered the cup. The sight of the puddle spreading across my usually immaculate floor seemed to underscore the chaos invading my carefully ordered life.
The headache building behind my eyes intensified.
"You know exactly what I mean. The looks, the tension, the way you both go silent whenever I enter a room." She smiled, but her eyes didn’t.
Another chime from her phone, and she actually giggled—a sound I'd never heard from my typically composed sister. "I just want to make sure you're both being... careful."
"Careful." I repeated the word as if tasting it, loosening my tie slightly—a rare concession to discomfort. "In what sense?"
"You know Mother disapproves of Lili. And your position at the law firm—getting involved with an employee working for a company which you are acquiring could be seen as unprofessional.
" The words sounded rehearsed, as if she'd practiced them.
Her phone buzzed yet again, and this time she actually picked it up, reading the message with a smile that transformed her entire expression.
"Daphne." My voice sharpened, fingers drumming against the leather armrest. "Who are you texting?"
"What? Oh, just a friend." She waved dismissively, but color rose in her cheeks. "We're not talking about me. We're talking about you and Lili."
"Are we? Because you seem rather more interested in your correspondence than in my supposed romantic entanglements."
She had the grace to look guilty, shoving the phone into her handbag with perhaps more force than necessary. "I'm concerned about both of you. Lili's my friend, and you're my brother. I don't want either of you to get hurt by something that can't possibly work out."
"And why can't it possibly work out?"
The question seemed to surprise her. "Edward, be realistic. You're from completely different worlds. Mother will never accept her, the family will never approve, and your career—"
"Interesting perspective." I leaned back in my chair, my lawyer instincts fully engaged now.
"Particularly coming from my sister who practically forced me to take Lili on a tour of London.
Who insisted I show her the National Gallery.
Who seemed positively delighted when James mentioned the obvious attraction between us. "
Daphne's face went pale, then flushed red. "I just thought... I mean, I wanted her to feel welcome—"
"Don't." My voice cut through her stammering. "You orchestrated that entire day, Daphne. You practically shoved us together at every opportunity. James was there—he saw it too. So forgive me if I find your sudden concern about the 'impossibility' of the situation rather convenient."
She fidgeted with her handbag strap, unable to meet my eyes. "People can change their minds about things."
"Can they? Or perhaps people can have hidden agendas that require a convenient distraction?
" I watched her face carefully, noting every micro-expression.
"What aren't you telling me, Daphne?" The words came out sharper than I'd intended.
“My career is none of your concern. Neither is my personal life. "
"But it is my concern!" For the first time, she sounded genuinely emotional. "Lili is my friend, and I brought her here. If she gets hurt because I introduced her to this world, to our family, to you..." She trailed off, looking younger than her years.
I studied her carefully, noting the way she avoided direct eye contact, the nervous energy that seemed to radiate from her in waves. "Daphne, what aren't you telling me?"
"Nothing! God, Edward, not everything is a conspiracy." She stood abruptly, smoothing down her skirt with jerky motions. "I just want everyone to be happy and safe. Is that so terrible?"
Before I could respond, her phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID, and her entire demeanor changed—shoulders relaxing, a genuine smile replacing the forced one she'd been wearing. The transformation was so complete it was almost startling.
"I have to take this," she said, already moving toward the door. "But think about what I said, Edward. Some risks aren't worth taking."
She disappeared into the hallway, and I heard her answer the call with a breathless "Hello, darling," that confirmed my suspicions about her distracted state.
I sat back in my chair, the sound of London traffic drifting up from the street below, and opened the acquisition folder again. I forced myself to read every detail, every financial projection, every recommendation for human resource optimization .
The clinical language couldn't disguise the human cost. Within a week of the acquisition's completion, the entire UK operation would be shuttered. Every employee would be terminated. Lili's visa would become invalid.
She would have to return to America.
The thought hit me like a physical blow, leaving me momentarily breathless. I'd known Lili for less than a month, had shared perhaps a dozen conversations with her, and yet the idea of her absence felt like contemplating a world without color.
I could save her. One word from me, and Malcolm would find another target for acquisition. But that word would cost me everything.
Years of building an unassailable reputation. Partnership track at Britain's most prestigious firm. The respect of peers who'd never seen me make a decision based on emotion rather than logic.
All of it would crumble the moment I chose heart over headstrong ambition.
The rational part of my mind catalogued all the reasons why saving her company was impossible. The emotional part—a part I'd spent years suppressing—whispered a single, dangerous word: why?
Why had I spent fifteen years climbing a ladder that led to an office where I sat alone, surrounded by the trappings of success but devoid of genuine human connection?
Why had I built a life so perfectly ordered that it left no room for spontaneity, for passion, for love?
Why was I more concerned about maintaining my reputation than protecting the dreams of a woman who saw potential in every seed, hope in every garden, beauty in every imperfect thing that dared to grow?
I reached for my phone to call Malcolm, my finger hovering over his contact information. One conversation could change everything.
Did I have the courage to let it?
The morning sun climbed higher outside my windows, casting new shadows across the acquisition documents. At the center of the cover page, printed in cheerful green letters that seemed to mock the clinical nature of the surrounding text, was the Gardens & Home Television logo.
And beneath it, in smaller print: Hosted by Lili Anderton—Growing Dreams, One Garden at a Time .
I stared at those words until they blurred, feeling the weight of choice press against my chest like a stone. In my hands lay the power to save her dreams or destroy them.
The answer, I realized, would define not just Lili's future, but who I truly was beneath all the careful construction of Edward Grosvenor.
Was I the man who'd spent decades building walls around his heart?
Or was I finally brave enough to let someone with dirt under her fingernails and laughter in her voice teach me what it meant to grow something beautiful from nothing?
The taste of coffee had long since turned bitter in my mouth.
The sounds of the city continued below, indifferent to the choice that would reshape everything I thought I knew about myself.