He jabbed a finger at her, voice climbing. “I told you–no concessions, whatever it takes. Instead, you hop a plane, waltz into Dharma’s lobby, and volunteer an eight-percent haircut!”
His pacing turned sharp, each step stabbing the floor. “Did you even bother to find out Horizonlead offered a five-percent discount? You carried Dharma’s reputation on your back–my reputation–and now the whole industry’s laughing.”
“Every future partner’s going to demand the same giveaway. You’ve embarrassed me and cost us seven figures in one afternoon!” Eason’s arm shot out again, finger leveled at her face. “What the hell have you been doing?”
Yalena dropped to her knees, clutching the leg of his suit pants like a lifeline. “Dad, I swear I didn’t know Jonathan set me up. Please–just one more chance!”
Eason stared down, stunned. ‘This is the kid who used to insist on carrying her own backpack at six years old.’ Now she groveled, shifting blame like it was someone else’s luggage. The voice, the expression–nothing matched the daughter he thought he knew.
“Get up!” he snarled, the words ripping out of him. “Look at yourself! You’re a stranger wearing my daughter’s face.”
Yalena tilted her chin, forcing a sugary lilt. “Daddy,” she cooed, “give me the company. I won’t let you down.”
“How many second chances does one person get?” Eason snapped. His chest heaved. “You want to kill me from frustration? Fine.”
He pivoted on his heel, already scanning his mental Rolodex for potential heirs who didn’t come packaged with this much chaos.
“Dad, just let me—” Eason strode past her before the plea finished forming. The office door slammed, the sound ricocheting off glass walls.
Yalena bit down on her lip until she tasted copper. ‘Jonathan. This is all Jonathan’s payback,’ she seethed, nails digging crescents into her palms.
She marched straight to Horizonlead Group. At the reception desk, she flashed a polite smile. “Irene asked me to drop something off for Jonathan.”
The receptionist’s eyes widened–everyone in the building knew Irene was Jonathan’s mother. No one dared say no. The woman waved her through.
Yalena rode the elevator to the executive floor. The corridor stretched ahead, dim and hushed. At the far end, a tall, lean man in a black suit stood with his back to her.
She rushed forward, arms flung wide, and pressed herself against him. “Mr. Lynn, you’re so mean,” she cooed, voice syrupy. “Why would you make life hard for a delicate woman? Where’s your chivalry?”
When Jonathan didn’t answer–or shove her away–her courage swelled. Her palms slid up the hard planes of his chest, tracing each contour.
“Mr. Lynn, your chest feels so broad, so solid,” she whispered, leaning in. “You know, I fell for you the first moment I saw you…”
“Oh? Really.” The voice that rumbled back was low, almost amused.
“It’s true,” Yalena said quickly. “I’m not like other women–I’m not after your money. Marry me, and I’ll give you children…”
The man finally caught her wrists and peeled her hands off him with cool disdain. A soft snort. “Sorry, sweetheart, I’m not in the market for kids.”
Something in the timbre of that voice felt… off. The man turned around. Yalena’s eyes flew wide. She stumbled backward a step. “Who are you? You’re not Jonathan.”
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Benny Simpson didn’t answer. He tugged a handkerchief from his pocket and swiped at the sleeve Yalena had touched, lips curled like he was disinfecting a countertop. Then he angled his chin toward the glass wall. “Yo, she’s looking for you.”
Because a frosted partition blocked her view, Yalena hadn’t noticed the L-shaped corner. She stepped forward and froze. Jonathan stood ten feet away, arms folded, face carved from ice.
Humiliation flashed white-hot through her chest. She jabbed a finger at Benny, “You took advantage of me!”
Benny rolled his eyes. “Lady, you body-checked me like a linebacker. Who took advantage of whom?” He sniffed. “And please, spare us the drama. You’re not fit to carry Mr. Lynn’s coffee, let alone his child.”
“You-” Yalena’s face contorted. Tears welled on cue as she spun toward Jonathan. “Mr. Lynn!”
Jonathan’s voice was winter steel. “I don’t know how you got past security, but if this is about the Dharma deal, it’s already settled. I told your father everything.”
“Fine, Jonathan,” Yalena hissed, swiping at her cheeks. “Just wait. You’ll regret this.” She stalked off, heels stabbing the marble like gunshots.
Benny loosened his tie, grinning after her. “Man, you’re a magnet. They line up to have your babies.”
Jonathan ignored him, already dialing the front desk. “How did an unscheduled visitor reach the executive floor?” he demanded. The receptionist stammered an apology: the woman claimed Irene had sent her.
Jonathan’s jaw tightened. “From now on, nobody comes up without my explicit okay. Teresa is the only exception.” He hung up, silently cursing himself. He’d almost forgotten Yalena had been one of Irene’s setups.
He was still frowning when Benny draped an arm over his shoulder, falsetto dripping. “Mr. Lynn, I could give you a baby too…”
Jonathan shoved the arm away. “Have you lost your mind?”
Benny cackled. “Relax. I’m cheap–only thirty million and I’ll pop one out for you.”
Jonathan reached for his desk phone, thumb hovering over 911. Benny raised both hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’m done.”
He then said, “So I hit my buddy’s second wedding today–same bride. First time around, no ceremony, no ring budget, stingy as hell. She bailed. Somehow they reconnected, and now it’s full-blown fairy-tale vows, rose petals, the works. They looked happy.”
Jonathan arched a brow. “And?”
Chapter 881
Benny leaned forward, voice low. “Don’t play dumb. You and Teresa should remarry. That custody waiver you signed? Poof–void. You’ve got the empire, but no kid to share it with. And we both know you don’t want to give up your son.”
Benny’s mind raced ahead. ‘If they remarry, Michael becomes Jonathan’s heir in every sense–raised, groomed, the whole nine yards. Right now, Teresa holds all the cards; Jonathan only gets a vote if she lets him.’
Jonathan stared at the skyline for a long beat. Finally, he admitted, voice low, “You think I don’t want to remarry her? I just don’t have the face to ask anymore.”
“Why not?” Benny asked, brow creasing.
Jonathan shook his head once, a sharp, silent refusal. ‘Family laundry stays in the basket,’ he thought, jaw tight.
After Benny left, Jonathan pulled out his phone and called Irene. She answered, tone syrupy and sour. “Finally remember your own mother in exile? Thought you’d shipped me off forever.”
Jonathan snorted. “I sent you overseas with first-class tickets, a platinum card, a security team, and a villa. Hardly exile. Quick question did you look at
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the photos I sent?”
“You mean the ones of Yalena?” Irene sniffed. “Yalena called me. She says they’re Photoshopped, says it’s not even her.”
Jonathan’s stomach iced over. “So you take the word of some random girl instead of your own son? Fine, believe her from now on.” He never thought Irene would still contact Yalena.
Irene rushed to defend herself. “She called me, Jonathan. I never rang her first.”
“Still passing the buck,” he said, voice flat as slate. “When you’re ready to tell the truth, I’ll pick up. Until then—don’t expect to hear from me.” He ended the call without another word.
Yalena knew the goodwill balance in Jonathan’s emotional account had flat-lined at zero. Thanks to her, Kelly Group had hemorrhaged money that quarter, and the board now treated her like a contagion they couldn’t quarantine fast enough.
Yalena thought, ‘If I don’t flip the script soon, Dad will hand the whole company to someone else while I’m still reading the fine print.’
Her original timeline had been surgical: inherit Kelly Group first, arrange an “accident” for Teresa and the baby second, comfort Jonathan into a grateful third, marry him fourth, then siphon assets offshore before anyone ran the DNA test that exposed her as the counterfeit heiress.
Yalena thought, ‘But Jonathan’s already suspicious–one wrong move and he’ll come for my throat.’
She blamed Irene for that. Irene had been her pawn until the old woman’s feud with Jonathan turned her into a useless piece.
‘And the reason Irene became useless? Teresa.’ Without Teresa in the picture, Yalena was convinced she’d already be Mrs. Lynn.
Since back-channel sabotage was off the table, Yalena decided to go loud.
Teresa was stretched out on the living room sofa with a pregnancy pillow wedged under her back, completely unaware that Yalena had already tipped off the press about her baby.
In truth, Teresa and Yalena barely crossed paths, and whatever Jennifer had whispered to Jonathan had never been repeated to her–Teresa was in the dark.
The nanny burst in, phone trembling in her hand. “Ms. Johnston, this article… It’s saying awful things about you.”
Teresa took the device, opened her own news app, and froze.
[EXCLUSIVE: Teresa Johnston–Divorced, Pregnant by Ex-Husband?]
(Sources claim Teresouth Group’s CEO ditched Jonathan Lynn when he was ‘broke.’ Now that he’s Nareigh’s richest man, she allegedly got pregnant on purpose to cash in.)