The Billionaire And His Son Want Me Back (Paisley) novel Chapter 5

In the CEO's office at Vanderbilt Group, the atmosphere was thick, the air heavy with tension. The pressure hung like a storm cloud, threatening to burst at any moment.

Dominick, standing by his desk, slammed a thick stack of papers onto the floor with an almost violent force.

His secretary, visibly shrinking from the anger emanating from him, quickly bent to pick up the scattered papers, her hands trembling slightly as she did so.

"I'll go speak to Mr. Parker right away and have his team redo it..." she stammered, not daring to linger any longer. The moment she straightened, she bolted from the room, her footsteps hurried and frantic.

Julian Hale, Dominick's assistant, closed the office door behind the secretary with a quiet click, his eyes lingering on the tall, imposing figure of Dominick standing near the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Dominick's posture was rigid, his brow furrowed in annoyance, and the weight of his frustration seemed to settle in the room like a dense fog.

Julian sighed, leaning against the doorframe, "Mr. Vanderbilt," he began with a knowing look, "this is the sixteenth proposal you've thrown away today. Sixteen. Not one of them has caught your eye?"

Dominick tugged irritably at his tie, his expression darkening. "What's your point?" His voice was sharp, but Julian wasn't intimidated.

Julian's eyes flickered briefly before he spoke again, his voice lowering slightly, "Is it her return that is affecting you?"

"Paisley has no effect on me," Dominick snapped, his tone a little too quick, too defensive.

Julian's lips quirked slightly as he took a slow step forward, unfazed. "I didn't say it was Paisley," he murmured.

Dominick froze for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he caught the glint of amusement—or perhaps something deeper—in Julian's gaze.

After a beat of silence, Dominick turned away, his frustration boiling over as he yanked the tie from around his neck and tossed it carelessly aside. "You got something to say, or you just want to keep playing games?"

Julian straightened, his demeanor becoming more businesslike. "Actually, I do have something to say," he said, his voice lower now, tinged with a certain level of authority. "I've followed your orders. I've applied pressure on the investors. Ms. Sullivan is officially the lead for that series."

Dominick's expression shifted, his usual icy demeanor slipping back into place. He gave a single, almost imperceptible nod, signaling his acceptance of the news.

"Okay," he said flatly, sitting back down at his desk, the weight of the conversation easing as his attention turned back to the documents in front of him. His gaze, however, was distant, clouded with thoughts that no one could read.

Julian had already turned to leave, but after a brief pause, he couldn't help himself. He turned back and spoke with a slightly more probing tone, "Dom, the way you've been looking out for the Sullivan family... that's because of Paisley, isn't it?"

It wasn't until recently that Julian had learned the Sullivans were Paisley's real family—something he hadn't realized before. But now, it seemed obvious.

Dominick's eyes narrowed, his expression hardening as he swiftly dismissed the notion. "You're overthinking it," he said, his voice cold and distant. "Sullivan Group is a business partner of Vanderbilt Group."

Julian wasn't so easily fooled. "Dom, no matter what your reasons are for going out of your way to look after the Sullivan family, one thing is clear—you and Paisley are divorced.

"She made her choice, walked away without a second thought, even abandoning your son. Now she's back, and who knows what her game is?"

Julian, who had been friends with Dominick since high school, knew him inside and out and had followed him every step of the way.

The competition to inherit the Vanderbilt family legacy had been fierce, and the standards were impossibly high. Dominick had risen above them all.

He'd started his first business in high school, expanding it rapidly throughout college, and by his sophomore year, he'd already taken his company overseas.

It was inevitable that Dominick would inherit Vanderbilt Group and become the head of his family.

Julian, loyal as ever, had entered the company alongside him, serving as his right-hand man. Over the years, their bond had deepened, transcending the typical employer-employee relationship. They were more like brothers—united by shared history, loyalty, and ambition.

Julian, ever the persistent one, continued, "And Marissa is a good girl. Over the years, she's really—"

"Julian." Dominick's voice cut through the air like a knife, sharper than usual. He turned abruptly, his eyes narrowing with a hint of annoyance. "I've told you already. There's nothing going on between me and Marissa. I see her as a sister, just like Kayla."

With that, he tossed his phone toward Julian, the device skidding across the desk. On the screen, the latest tabloid headline splashed in bold letters about Dominick and Marissa's relationship scandal.

Dominick's expression darkened even further, his tone frigid. "What is all this nonsense? Contact the PR department, and have them clean this up." His voice was thick with disdain, like he couldn't even be bothered to engage with the garbage the press was feeding the public.

*****

The first day of kindergarten was supposed to be a milestone, a step toward growing up. But for little Serena, it felt more like a punishment.

She had spent her entire life in the safety of Paisley's arms, and now, for the first time, she was expected to spend an entire day without her mother or Maria.

Serena's emotions were a tangled mess. She wanted to cry. The lump in her throat was hard to swallow, but Paisley's words echoed in her mind, "You're a big girl now, Serena. Big girls don't cry. If you do, the other kids will laugh."

Serena tried to be strong and hold back the tears, just like Paisley had taught her. But it was so hard. The absence of her mother and Maria made everything feel cold and empty, and she missed them.

Stella, who had been watching the scene unfold with a growing sense of territorial protectiveness, stepped forward. Her voice was loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. "You can't just go around calling random people your brother. I'm Sonny's best friend and you're just a nobody."

Serena, her cheeks flushed with the heat of frustration, glared at Stella. Her little chest heaved as she stomped her foot and shouted, "But I'm his sister."

She was stubborn and wouldn't back down. She also wanted to hold hands with Grayson and reached her tiny hand toward him, her fingers trembling slightly, her eyes locked onto his as if she wanted him to believe her. "Hold my hand."

And then, something inexplicable happened. Grayson, for reasons he couldn't explain, found himself reaching out to her, unable to say no to her. His hand closed around hers without hesitation, as if something in him softened at the sight of her innocent determination.

But the moment was short-lived. With a sharp smack, Stella slapped Serena's outstretched hand away, her face twisted with irritation. "Go away, you bad little girl, trying to call him your brother."

Serena winced, her hand recoiling, stinging with the force of Stella's slap. She let out a small cry, holding the back of her hand to her chest, the hurt from both the slap and the harsh words sinking deep.

Stella huffed, her tone dripping with disdain, "Sonny, let's go back to the classroom. Don't pay attention to this brat. Aunt Marissa always says there are bad kids at school who try to get close to us for no good reason.

"She just came here, calling you her brother right away? She has ulterior motives, for sure."

Grayson's heart sank. It wasn't the first time something like this had happened. He knew firsthand how some families, especially wealthy ones, tried to attach themselves to the Vanderbilt name.

If they couldn't reach Dominick, they'd try to get to Grayson, seeing him as the next best thing. The most common method they employed was sending their kids to the same school, hoping to get close to him and, through him, to Dominick.

And, more often than not, it was the girls who were pushed forward. The idea of childhood sweethearts—romanticized, idealized—made it a common strategy to build alliances.

At first, Grayson believed these kids genuinely wanted to be his friends, but over time, he saw through the facade. He realized they were only there because their parents pushed them to be.

The more this happened, the more Grayson grew disillusioned. He hated all the fake smiles and forced kindness, especially from girls who thought that being around him would bring them closer to his family's wealth and power.

After Stella's warning, Grayson turned back to Serena, his expression hardening. His eyes, once neutral, now held an unmistakable coldness—guarded, suspicious, even a little disgusted.

"I'm not your brother. Don't come near me again." The words were sharp and final, leaving no room for argument.

Without another glance, he turned and grabbed Stella's hand, leading her back toward the classroom, his back straight and unyielding.

Serena stood frozen, her small body trembling with shock and hurt. Her eyes were wide, the sting of rejection raw and bitter in her chest. She blinked rapidly, but it was too late—her tears were already spilling over, the weight of his words sinking in.