Chapter 7 The Golden Host?

Chapter7 The Golden Host?

The drive back home from the Davis residence felt longer than usual. My mind kept replaying the meeting with Amanda.

My phone buzzed. Grandmother's name flashed on the screen. I answered immediately.

"Ethan, what on earth are you doing in LA? Did you have another argument with your father?" Her voice carried that gentle concern I'd grown accustomed to over the years.

I lowered my eyes, not wanting to worry her. "No, just some company business in LA. Came to check things out."

Who was I kidding? Grandmother always saw right through me. My parents had divorced when I was young. My mother spent most of her time abroad, and my father buried himself in work, rarely coming home.

When I was around eight, Father brought home a woman with a four-year-old daughter. That woman became my stepmother, and that child became my sister. From that point on, my father and I barely spoke.

Our lack of communication meant we'd argue over the smallest things. Little misunderstandings would explode into full-blown fights.

Grandmother sighed deeply. Her health had deteriorated over the past few years. Even the best doctors couldn't improve her condition. I was her only concern now.

"Ethan, you're not getting any younger. It's time you found someone to keep you company," she said softly. She worried that if she passed away, I'd be alone.

"I know," I replied, my voice softening. "I met a girl in LA. I think she's great. We're already together. Don't worry."

"Really?" Excitement crept into her voice. She knew I'd always been distant—twenty-eight years old and never had a woman in my life.

"Really. I like her a lot," I answered calmly.

"Good, good. That's wonderful," she said before breaking into a coughing fit. When she recovered, she continued, "Well then, I'm coming to LA in three days. Bring this girl to meet me. I want to see what my future granddaughter-in-law looks like."

Her coughing concerned me, and I frowned. "Grandmother, your health isn't good right now. Why don't we wait? When I finish my business here, I'll bring her to see you."

"Nonsense. Your business in LA will probably take a while, and I can't wait. Don't worry, I'll have your father take me to the airport," she insisted.

I felt helpless but stopped trying to convince her. "Alright. Call me when you arrive, and I'll pick you up."

I hung up the phone with my grandmother. The city lights of LA streaked past the window as my driver navigated through evening traffic. Emma Blackwood's health had been deteriorating for years now, and despite consulting with every top specialist in the country, her condition wasn't improving. That persistent cough haunted me.

"Bring a girl to meet her?" I muttered to myself, running a hand through my hair.

The Davis house visit had left a strange taste in my mouth. Amanda Davis. A woman I'd met under the most unusual circumstances, who had asked for something even more unusual. A fake relationship. And I, Ethan Blackwood, CEO of Blackwood Group and heir to one of America's most powerful financial empires, had actually agreed.

What the hell was I thinking?

My mind drifted back to our first meeting. She'd been drunk, but those eyes—those eyes had remained startlingly clear. Intelligent.

"Mr. Blackwood, should I take you directly to your penthouse?" my driver's voice pulled me from my thoughts.

"Yes," I answered, before adding, "And clear my schedule for three days from now. My grandmother is coming to LA."

I'd have to find Amanda again. Convince her to meet Emma. The thought made me smirk—the brilliant medical researcher playing girlfriend to the Wall Street shark. What a circus this was turning into.

The Blackwood Estate in Upper East Side had never felt much like home. Too many ghosts, too many secrets. The LA penthouse felt more like my space—minimal, modern, controlled. But now I had a more pressing issue: my grandmother was coming, expecting to meet my "girlfriend."

I poured myself a whiskey and stared at my phone. Amanda. The woman I'd somehow agreed to marry after a single meeting. For money. The absurdity of it hit me anew.

She needed cash for her grandfather's treatment. I needed... what exactly? A break from my father's constant attempts to control my life? A way to keep my grandmother happy in what might be her final years?

"Damn it." I downed the whiskey in one gulp.

Three days. I had three days to turn a business arrangement into something that would fool Emma Blackwood—the woman who'd built half of the Blackwood fortune and could smell a lie from a mile away.

My phone buzzed again. Benjamin Blackwood. Father. I stared at it until it stopped.

Five seconds later, a text: "The Singapore deal needs your attention. Call me."

Work never stopped. The Blackwood Group wasn't just a company—it was a machine that consumed everything around it. Including families.

I texted back: "Handling it tomorrow." Then I muted his notifications.

The penthouse felt suddenly too quiet, too empty. Amanda would need to stay here when Grandmother visited. We'd need a story—how we met, when we fell in love, all the little details that make a relationship real.

The whiskey burned in my stomach. What the hell was I thinking? I barely knew this woman. Smart, yes. Beautiful, definitely. But there was something else about her—a determination in those eyes that looked right through all my defenses.

My phone lit up with an email alert. The background check I'd ordered on Amanda Davis. I hesitated, then opened it.

Amanda Davis. Top of her class at Harvard Med. A wunderkind who'd published groundbreaking research and amazed veteran physicians with her diagnostic brilliance—all before completing her residency.

So, she wasn't just smart. She was brilliant.

And broke enough to agree to marry a stranger.

Interesting combination.

I scrolled further. Father: Richard Davis, moderately successful businessman. Stepmother: Elizabeth Davis, housewife. Stepsister: Madison Davis, college student.

And there it was—the reason for everything. Grandfather: Michael Davis. Diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer. Expensive experimental treatment available only at A Hospital. Insurance denied. Cost: $2 million.

The truth behind our arrangement stared back at me in black and white.

I closed the file and made another call.