The most powerful man in the room was staring directly at his grandson. "Stand where you are!"
Dylan rolled his eyes but didn't move.
The kind of voice that made people straighten instinctively.
Dylan sighed dramatically. "Grandfather, seriously…."
"Enough!" He raised his hand to shut him up.
The entire room went quiet again.
The old man stepped forward slowly, scanning the room filled with guests, reporters, and flashing cameras.
"I apologize," he began calmly. "For the unpleasant interruption."
"This… display…" He gestured toward Dylan and me. "…has just provided a perfect example of the problem I am dealing with."
A few people shifted uncomfortably.
Dylan scoffed beside me. "Here we go again."
The old man sighed deeply. "I am tired."
The words echoed across the hall.
"I am tired of the arrogance."
He glanced at Dylan.
"Tired of irresponsibility."
Another glance toward the crowd. "And most of all…" he took a deep breath. "…I am tired of grandsons who have absolutely no respect for their own family."
Dylan crossed his arms beside me, clearly unimpressed.
"God, he's so dramatic," he muttered quietly.
But the rest of the room was silent.
The old man continued.
"For decades, the Donovan family has built an empire."
He gestured around the hall. "Companies across continents. Industries that employ tens of thousands. A name that carries weight in every city."
He lowered his voice. "And yet the people who are meant to inherit it…" His eyes sharpened. "…behave like spoiled children."
A few uncomfortable laughs escaped the crowd.
"They fight in public."
"They waste millions."
"They disrespect the family that built everything they stand on."
His eyes flicked briefly toward Dylan again.
"And tonight, you have all witnessed another example."
Dylan rolled his eyes, pointing at me. "You caused everything."
I scoffed, and rolled my eyes too.
The old man straightened slightly. "Three months from now…I will officially retire as chairman of Donovan Industries."
That alone caused a ripple of gasps.
"What?"
"He's retiring?"
"Already?"
Dylan frowned beside me.
The old man raised his hand slightly, silencing the noise.
"When I retire," he continued, "someone must take my place."
His voice dropped lower. "And frankly… none of my grandsons have shown me they deserve it."
"So I have decided on a condition."
Everyone was listening..
Even the piano player had stopped breathing.
"If any of my grandsons wish to inherit the Donovan empire…"
He paused for a moment.
"…they must prove they are capable of responsibility."
Dylan folded his arms.
"In the next three months, they will need to demonstrate maturity, leadership…" He paused. "…and stability."
He looked across the crowd.
Then he added the final condition. "Marriage will be taken into consideration."
Now the hall exploded into whispers.
"Marriage?"
"He's serious?"
"Is he forcing them to settle down?"
"Reputation matters," the old man said coldly. "If one of them forms a respectable union with a powerful family, it will strengthen our legacy."
Dylan snorted beside me. "This is ridiculous."
Marriage? Political alliances? That was very… billionaire drama.
But the old man wasn't finished. He raised his hand again to stop the whispers. "And if none of them succeed…"
Everyone leaned forward to hear the last part.
"My only perfect and responsible grandson…" He turned slightly. "…Jeff…will inherit the Donovan empire."
The hall exploded. Gasps. Shouts. Camera flashes went wild.
"Wait! Isn't Jeff the adopted one?"
"He can't actually mean that."
"How could the chairman do that?"
"I mean honestly…"
"I don't blame him. His grandsons are a mess."
Reporters and bloggers were already snapping pictures and asking questions.
Dylan suddenly stepped forward. "The hell?!" His voice echoed across the hall. "You've got to be kidding me!" He pointed angrily at the old man. "Grandpa, you're joking, right?"
His voice grew louder. "You're going to give the company to the adopted child instead of your own blood?!"
The old man glared at him. The kind of glare that could shut anyone up. "Careful with your words, Dylan."
Dylan scoffed. "This is insane."
The old man didn't respond immediately.
Instead…
He slowly raised his arm, and gestured to the crowd. A man began walking toward him.
My eyes widened slightly. "Damn…"
The man was tall. Broad shoulders. Sharp suit.
His face was calm, composed… slightly older than Dylan's but just as striking.
He looked more intimidating than Dylan.
But there was something colder about him.
Charles whispered beside me. "That's Jeff."
"The adopted one?"
"Yep."
Jeff stopped beside the old man. Standing quietly.
Dylan's eyes widened. "You can't be serious," he turned to Jeff. "You're actually entertaining this?"
Jeff didn't respond. He just looked at him.
Suddenly….
Two more figures stepped out from the crowd.
One leaned casually against a table, crossing his arms.
The other looked like he had just walked off a runway.
Charles leaned closer to my ear.
"Those are the other two. The rest of the heirs."
"Are they all this hot?"
Their presence alone changed the atmosphere.
Their looks.
Their aura.
Their confidence.
It wasn't even something you could properly describe.
They looked like trouble wrapped in expensive suits.
One of them spoke first. "This is insane." He ran a hand through his hair in frustration.
"You can't seriously expect us to compete for inheritance like this."
Dylan laughed bitterly. "Marriage? Reputation? What is this, the nineteenth century?"
The old man remained calm. "I expect responsibility."
"You expect control," one of them shot back.
Even the guests seemed nervous now. Watching like it was a live television drama.
Reporters kept taking pictures.
One of the heirs suddenly turned, tucking his hands in his pocket. "I'm not playing this game."
He walked toward the exit, clearly furious.
Dylan scoffed. "Whatever, good luck with that."
Jeff remained silent, still standing beside the old man..watching everything unfold.
Charles leaned toward me again. "Eli."
"Yeah?"
"We picked the most chaotic family in the city to work for."
I stared at the four heirs. Especially the last one walking towards the exit.
Even wealth can't buy family's love.