Chapter 8: NEW CONTACT

Richard

I said goodbye to Ella as she slipped what I gave her into her bag, her fingers brushing against the leather strap with an air of casual finality.

"I'll stay in touch," she promised, her smile as enigmatic as ever. She gave a quick wave before turning and walking in the opposite direction.

I watched her move away, the faintest flicker of curiosity and something else pulling at me, but I didn't let it show. Instead, I glanced at my phone as a new number sat on my contact list. A moment ago, it had felt like a harmless exchange, but now, with her walking away, it felt more compelling.

I hesitated. Should I text her? Was this a casual moment, or had I just made a connection worth pursuing? She had given me a reason to believe there was more to everything than just surface level, and that intrigued me.

As I turned toward the car, my grandfather's voice cut through the air. "Richard, get in the car."

I saw him waiting by the tinted windows, his figure looming like a shadow. My face flushed with embarrassment as I made my way over, feeling the weight of his gaze on me even before I opened the door.

Sliding into the back seat, I turned to face him. His expression was set, his eyes filled with disapproval.

"Can you tell me what this is all about?" His voice was stern, but I could hear the edge of something else beneath it—disappointment, perhaps, or something worse. "Why did you rush off like that over a girl you're meeting for the first time?"

I sighed, feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment, but I quickly brushed a few stray strands of hair out of my face, trying to mask it. "It's not what you think, Grandpa," I said, my voice steady. "She looked familiar. Just checking to see if we've met before."

He arched an eyebrow. "Then why not just ask her while she was sitting beside you?"

"I didn't get the chance," I lied, adjusting my collar and trying to keep my tone light.

He shook his head, clearly unimpressed, and the tension in the air thickened as I prepared for the lecture I knew was coming.

He shook his head in disbelief and turned toward the driver. "Eddy, start the car. We're heading home," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I turned to the window, crossing one leg over the other, hoping the conversation was over. But he wasn't finished.

"You made a fool of yourself, boy," he said after a pause, his voice tinged with disappointment. "That's not how you act at a public event. You can't chase after any girl in jeans and a T-shirt, especially not when there are paparazzi everywhere. For crying out loud!"

"Alright, alright, I get your point," I hissed through clenched teeth, frustration bubbling to the surface.

"That's no way to speak to an old man," he shot back, his tone low and reproachful. "You're nothing like your father, Charly; bless his soul. He would never raise his voice at me."

I rolled my eyes and slumped deeper into my seat. "I'm sorry, Grandpa. You're taking this too far," I said, my voice softening. "I mean no disrespect, okay? But I get your point. I know you think my love life is a joke, but I swear I've seen that girl before today. I saw her at the library's entrance, then again on stage. I just wanted to confirm."

"She's a lowlife," he growled, his disapproval now cutting through every word. "And I forbid you from trying to contact her."

I opened my mouth to argue, but he wasn't done. "Listen, son," he said sharply, "I'm not getting any younger, and the responsibility of Panders Homes and Construction will one day fall on you. Maybe sooner than you expect."

"You could always hand the company over to one of your trusted executives," I retorted, trying to sound reasonable. "They know the ropes. Besides, I still have my father's stakes there."

His stare hardened. "That's not how the business world works, Richard. This company is my life's work. I built it from the ground up. At seventy-four, you think I'm going to hand it over to someone I've only known for a few years? All my trusted allies are either dead or have betrayed me. Family is all I have left."

I swallowed hard, realizing I'd struck a nerve. "I have my own company now, Grandpa," I said, attempting to shift the focus. "I'm trying to build my own brand."

He let out a bitter laugh. "The same company I financed and keep afloat with my connections?" he asked. "I could buy it out with a week's worth of profit. And let's not forget, I own shares in it, don't I?"

I bit my tongue, knowing he was right. My business existed because of him, and he wanted me to acknowledge that.

"I don't know how to run a construction company," I said at last, my voice subdued. "Real estate is my passion."

"There's no difference," he insisted. "I handle the construction while you bring in the business. It's a win-win situation."

"It's not that simple, Grandpa," I said.

He leaned closer, his voice softening but firm. "That's why I'm here to guide you. Take some courses, and get certified. I'll make sure you pass them, as always. But the real knowledge, the secrets of this business, can only be passed down to family. This is my legacy."

I stared out the window as he continued. "If I had another son, or if your father had another son, I wouldn't be having this conversation. But Charly, God rest his soul, left only you. And you're all I have."

The sadness in his voice stung more than I expected. Finally, I gave a resigned nod. "Alright, tell me what to do."

His face lit up with triumph, a wide grin spreading across his features. "Now you're talking like the son of your father!" he said, clapping me on the back with enough force to rattle my bones. "First lesson: the Andersons don't chase women. It's quite the opposite."

I rolled my eyes and muttered under my breath, "Here we go again."

He didn't miss a beat, his smirk growing. "What, you think I haven't been watching? Youthful exuberance, I call it. But that phase is over now, my boy. From here on out, you focus on what really matters—family."

I barely contained a groan. "Yeah, family, got it," I said, my tone flat.

He leaned back, looking satisfied with himself. "You know," he continued, "there's a reason your father never chased women. He knew what was important."

I raised an eyebrow. "And what exactly is that?"

He winked. "Business, of course."

I couldn't help but let out a quiet snicker. He didn't catch it, though, too caught up in his self-appointed wisdom. "I swear, sometimes it's like I'm being lectured by a Shakespearean character," I quipped.

He glanced at me, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "What was that?"

Before I could reply, his phone rang. He squinted at the screen and handed it to me. "Help your old man out. I can't see without my glasses."

"It's from the office," I said. "Should I answer?"

"Of course," he replied. "Put it on speaker."

"Hello, Mr. Patrick," came a crisp voice from the other end.

"Hello, Shirley," my grandfather answered, his tone immediately professional. "What's the matter?"

"Some board members are here to see you," she said. "They said it's urgent and can't be discussed over the phone."

"Understood," he said, "Tell them I'd be right there." He ended the call and talked to the driver, "Eddy, turn the car around. We're heading to the office."

As the car changed direction, I leaned forward. "You can drop me off," I said, "I have other things to do today."

"They'll have to wait," he said firmly. "This concerns your future."

And with that, he dialed another number, ending the discussion for good.

I didn't want to argue with him, so I turned toward the window, letting the silence settle between us. As the car sped forward, my thoughts drifted to the lady in the jeans and cardigan and the new contact on my phonelist.

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