He Wanted an Heir, So I Gave Him Ashes Chapter 17

He Wanted an Heir, So I Gave Him Ashes Chapter 17

“Beau, do you think you did anything wrong yesterday?”

Daisy crouched down, dabbing at the corner of her son’s mouth with a handkerchief.

Beau immediately shook his head.

He’d had fun tearing things up. The sight of that woman trembling with anger had been amusing. Mommy had protected him, and Daddy hadn’t really punished him.

He didn’t think he’d done anything wrong.

Daisy looked at her son and smiled, satisfied.

“Since you weren’t wrong, we don’t have to apologize.”

“If Daddy asks, just tell him the truth.”

In the end, Daisy didn’t even bother to send a perfunctory text.

She assumed this was just another one of Rhett’s little games to placate Ellie. She settled comfortably into her new role in the Walker mansion, completely unaware of the storm that was about to break.

In the study, Rhett was pinned to his chair by his father’s roar.

“Who told you to bring that woman and her bastard into this house?” Old Mr. Walker’s voice scraped through the phone like sandpaper. “Rhett, what the hell were you thinking? You signed that agreement. Do you have any idea what this will do to the company once it goes public?”

Rhett didn’t think the situation was that dire.

To him, this was just Ellie forcing his hand. A private matter. The Walker Group was their creation. She wouldn’t actually destroy it.

“Dad, Ellie’s just throwing a tantrum. Once she comes back and withdraws the agreement, this will all blow over,” he tried to explain, a note of impatience in his voice.

He naively believed that if he could just find Ellie, apologize, and offer some compensation, she would change her mind. A PR crisis could be managed, but this agreement had to be withdrawn by Ellie herself.

Old Mr. Walker cut him off.

“A tantrum? Why do you think old families treat prenups and trust documents like the goddamn Bible?”

His father’s voice was laced with fury and disappointment. “You think a business execution is the same as a marital spat?”

With that, he slammed down the phone.

The dial tone echoed in the silent study, a long, shrill alarm.