Chapter 63 A Brewing Storm

Nicholas Andrieux The mansion loomed ahead like a fortress, dark and unwelcoming under the moonlit sky. I had been debating heading to my penthouse for the night, but that changed the moment I received his call. My father never called unless it was serious. And from the clipped tone in his voice, I knew it wasn’t good. I gritted my teeth, my hands tightening around the steering wheel as I pressed down on the gas, the engine roaring as I sped through the estate’s private road. I didn’t even bother acknowledging the butler who opened the grand doors for me. Instead, I walked in with purpose, my shoes clicking against the marble floor as I made my way straight to my father’s study. The door wasn’t even fully open before I heard his voice. “About damn time,” George muttered from inside. I ignored him. Instead, my eyes went straight to him. My father, Lionel Andrieux, sat behind his massive oak desk, his fingers steepled together, his face a mask of controlled anger. He looked up