Luca Steele
“Where’s your girlfriend?” my mother asked, her spoon halfway to her mouth.
I froze.
She didn’t even remember my name most days. She called me Daniel—my father’s name—nine times out of ten. She didn’t know who I was anymore. And yet… she remembered her.
“Lyla?” I said, blinking.
“Lyla,” my mother smiled. “She’s beautiful, you know.”
I gave her a quiet nod. “Yes, Mother.”
“You shouldn’t lose her. She’s a diamond.”
I nodded again, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I know.”
Every day since my father died, I made time for dinner with my mother. No matter what was going on. Even when boardrooms were burning and stocks were dropping—I came here.
But she never recovered. Not really. The day she found out Dad was gone, something inside her broke. She cried for days. Locked herself in her room. And then… she started forgetting things. Little things at first. Then people. Then herself.
I tried, I really did. Hired the best doctors. The best therapists. But in the end, I had to build this wing. This private, quiet space where she could be safe. Where she could still be her, even if she no longer knew who that was.
I never recovered from his death either.
I watched it happen—him getting shot, bleeding out in front of me in the car. A deal gone wrong. Just like that, I was 21, and the weight of a billion-dollar company was dropped onto my shoulders.
It’s been eight years. I learned to survive. Lead. Be ruthless. Because life doesn’t give second chances.
My mother finished her food, and I did too. I helped her into bed, kissed her cheek, and hugged her gently.
“I’ll be here tomorrow again,” I whispered.
She smiled faintly. “You’ve grown so big, Luca.”
I chuckled. “Yeah?”
“Remember when you glued your eyebrows together because you thought it’d stop them from growing?”
I actually laughed. “I was six.”
“That was the last time your father laughed so hard, he cried.”
I smiled. Moments like these—fleeting memories—meant everything. They reminded me that, somewhere inside her broken mind, pieces of the woman who raised me still lived.
I tucked her in and whispered, “Goodnight, Mom.”
Then I walked back to the car, exhaling slowly.
As I got behind the wheel and started driving, my phone buzzed. Lyla.
“Mr. Steele,” she said, voice soft but tense. “I have some news for you, and I’m not sure how you’re going to take it. So… are you somewhere safe? You know, in case you… I don’t know… punch a wall?”
I frowned. “Lyla, I don’t have time for your shenanigans. What is it?”
“I’m resigning.”
I slammed the brakes. A car behind me honked so hard I almost flipped the bird. “What the hell do you mean you’re resigning? Like… in three months? You need to send me a formal resignation letter.”
“I already did,” she said, very calmly.
“When?”
“Just now.”
I growled. “Lyla, you don’t get special treatment. You’re just like everyone else.”
She sighed. “I know. But this is kind of… urgent. I can’t come back.”
“What do you mean you can’t come back from California? Planes exist. Want me to send one? I can pick you up if you want. Is this some dramatic way of asking for a ride?”
“No. That’s not what I mean,” she said. “I mean I really can’t come back. I’m getting married. I have to stay here.”
I stared blankly at the dashboard.
“…Married?” I repeated. “You met someone on the plane? Was it love at first sight at 35,000 feet? What the hell is going on, Lyla?!”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Steele,” she said, gentle but final. “I found a replacement. She’s really good. I’ll send her everything, and she’ll fit perfectly.”
“That’s not the point!” I snapped. “You can’t just ghost me! This isn’t some banana store. There are rules. Procedures.”
“I know,” she said. “I really wanted to do it the right way. But I can’t. I don’t have that choice.”
“…Are you being forced, Lyla? Is someone making you say this? Is this a code? Say ‘the banana is armed’ if you need help.”
“What?! No, Mr. Steele!” she exclaimed. “I’m serious. I sent the resignation. My replacement will be there tomorrow. That’s all.”
There was silence. And then, her voice—quiet, fragile. “I hope you have a good life.”
Click.
The call ended. I sat there, gripping the wheel so tight I could hear it creak. “What the actual fuck,” I muttered.
I turned the car around and drove straight back to the office. Walked into my office. Slammed the door. It’s whatever. Lyla was just another secretary.
There are dozens of secretaries. It wasn’t a big deal. I sat behind my desk, muttering curses under my breath. But then I saw something that stopped me cold.
An envelope.
Thick. Cream-colored. Stamped with a gold seal.
Kingsley Enterprises.
My jaw tightened. Everyone knew Kingsley Enterprises. Bigger than Steele. Older. Global. Ruthless.
What does Carter Kingsley want with me?
I opened the envelope and unfolded the document inside. It wasn’t a deal. It was a contract.
Between Carter Kingsley and my father.
My eyes scanned the page—each line hitting harder than the last.
Agreement between Daniel Steele and Carter Kingsley…
In the event of one or both parties’ deaths, the arrangement will remain binding.
…uniting both empires through the marriage of their children…
Mr. Luca Steele and Miss Nova Kingsley.
I blinked. Nova… Kingsley? Carter Kingsley’s daughter who disappeared? Marriage?
What the actual fuck?!
