[Back to Present]
I stared at the old man sitting across from me in that massive office.
Chairman of Donovan Industries.
My hands rested awkwardly on my lap. I didn't know where to look….at him, at the floor, at literally anything that didn't feel like it could ruin my future in one sentence.
Before I could figure out what to say next, he made a gesture with his hand.
The man in the suit beside me stepped forward immediately. He adjusted his glasses slightly and gave me a polite nod. Allow me to introduce myself." He finally said.
I raised my head to listen to him.
"I'm Phil Paxton. Chairman's personal assistant."
He walked toward the side of the office and picked up a tiny remote.
A thin projector screen slid down from the ceiling. The screen flickered to life.
A photo appeared.
It was a picture of one of the heirs. The one that walked away that night.
Tall. Broad shoulders. Messy dark. And tattoos….a lot of them. They ran down one arm, up his neck.
But what caught my attention the most, was his eyes. Cold grey.
I glanced at the chairman.
Same color. So that's a family thing.
"This is Noel Donovan. The chairman's first grandson." Phil continued calmly. "He is currently studying business in college."
The image switched.
Now Noel stood beside a race car. There was a small cut across his eyebrow, and bruised knuckles. "He participates in illegal street racing." Phil sighed.
Illegal?
"He frequently returns home with injuries." Then he looked at me briefly. "If you see bruises on him…do not ask questions."
Yeah. I wasn't planning to.
Behind him, the chairman scoffed. "That one?" He waved his hand like he was dismissing him. "Nothing but a thug."
"Noel has everything it takes to lead," the chairman said flatly. "Strength. Intelligence. Instinct. He just prefers violence."
Yeah… that tracks.
"He doesn't speak much," the chairman continued. "But when he does, people listen."
"Not because they respect him." He paused again. "Because they're afraid of him."
Okay. That was not comforting. This family was already confusing.
The image changed. And my stomach tightened instantly.
Dylan Donovan. I didn't need an introduction for that one.
Phil glanced at me. "Dylan Donovan. The chairman's second grandson." He paused again. "I assume you remember him."
I wish I didn't.
Another image appeared.
Dylan on an ice rink, dressed in full hockey gear, hair damp with sweat. Same grey eyes.
Seriously. Did they all come out of the same expensive genetics lab or something?
"He is currently a hockey major in college," Phil continued.
The screen switched again.
This time Dylan was leaving some nightclub with two different people hanging onto him.
Phil spoke calmly. "He returns home almost every night with…new partners."
Of course he does. That explains a lot.
The chairman scoffed again, clearly irritated.
"That one," he said, "was supposed to be brilliant." His tone dropped slightly. "And he is."
Wait…what? He is?
The chairman's expression hardened. "Instead, he wastes his time and money chasing pleasure." His grip tightened on the cane.
"He could build empires. But he'd rather destroy himself."
Good for him. He's still annoying though.
The screen changed again.
A younger guy appeared.
Messy hair. Oversized headphones. Completely glued to a gaming setup.
"Lucas Donovan," Phil said. "The younger brother of Dylan Donovan."
The next image showed him mid-game.
"He is a professional esports player. A member of Elite Strikers. He spends most of his time gaming or traveling for competitions."
Phil adjusted his glasses slightly. "He is technically enrolled in college." Phil paused again. "However… we are uncertain what he studies, as he rarely attends lectures."
"That one," the chairman shook his head, "has the fastest mind out of all of them.
"He sees patterns others miss. Solves problems before they're fully explained." Chairman took a deep breath. "He just chooses not to apply it to anything useful. He has zero patience for anything."
I blinked. Okay.
The final image appeared.
A tall guy standing beside a bookshelf.
I recognized him immediately. Jeff.
He looked calm, and composed, like he actually belonged in a normal family.
"Jeffery Donovan," Phil continued. "The chairman's adopted grandson. Business major in college."
And for the first time…. chairman didn't look irritated.
"He listens," Chairman started. "He observes before he acts. And that is why he survives."
Survives?
"All of them," he said slowly, "were given everything."
His eyes locked onto mine.
"And yet… none of them understand what it means to earn anything."
"Sir," rubbed the back of my neck. "I don't have experience with people like them. I'm just a twenty year old college student."
"That's exactly why you might succeed," he continued calmly. "They won't listen to someone like me anymore." He paused. "Someone who understands loss, survival, and consequences… they might."
Phil tapped the remote again.
The screen changed to a layout of the mansion.
The east wing.
"All four of them reside in the east wing of the Donovan estate," he said. "That area is reserved exclusively for the heirs."
Then he turned fully toward me. "That," he said calmly, "is where you would be working."
"Working?" I glanced between him and the chairman. "I haven't even said yes."