Chapter 174 Better With Age
Gordon watched Alistair’s interview on his laptop, his jaw tightening.
“Time will tell?” he snorted, snapping the laptop shut and massaging his temples.
He hadn’t officially welcomed Alistair into the family yet, though it was becoming painfully clear his approval didn’t matter. His daughter wanted this man, and what Caroline wanted, Caroline
got.
The media had been hounding Alistair for weeks about his connection to the Whitfield deaths and the effect on the Ashbourne Group, but he had shut them down at every turn.
Alistair went about his business as if the scandal didn’t exist, as if he had no connection to the Ashbourne family.
Gordon drummed his fingers on his desk. “Tell me something,” he said to his assistant. “Do you think he’s actually innocent? Or is he just cocky because he thinks we’ve got his back?”
His assistant considered carefully. “Looking at it objectively? I’d say he’s innocent.”
“Really?” Gordon leaned back in his chair, intrigued. “Because he plays it cool? Or maybe he’s just a good actor? Any man who caught my daughter’s eye has to be exceptional at something.”
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Donor Wilt Age
He practically spat the last word.
“No, sir. That’s not my reasoning.”
“Then what is that?”
“He hasn’t secured your approval yet.”
Gordon mulled that over.
Huh. Good point.
Having Caroline in his corner was one thing. Sure, his daughter was a prodigy–brilliant, wealthy beyond her years—but compared to Gordon? She was still playing in the minor leagues.
Not that he was proud of outranking his own daughter. He had decades on her, mountains of experience. It would be pathetic if he weren’t more powerful.
Everyone saw Caroline as born into privilege. But Gordon knew better. Apart from cleaning up her grandfather’s mess, Caroline had built Vireon Technologies from scratch. No help from the Ashbourne Group. All her.
But his assistant’s point stood: if Gordon decided to destroy Alistair, Caroline’s protection would mean nothing. He cod crush the man without breaking a sweat.
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Alistair was smart. So was Caroline.
And she guarded him like a lioness with her cub. She’d never let him walk into real danger.
It led to one conclusion: Alistair had been set up.
But by whom?
Gordon’s eyes narrowed as the pieces started clicking into place. On the surface, someone was gunning for Alistair and Vireon Technologies. But what if the real target was the Ashbourne Group itself?
He’d built his empire by trusting his instincts, dodging bullets, and navigating minefields that had destroyed lesser men.
But the last couple of years of smooth sailing had made him soft, complacent.
Now his instincts were screaming that something was very wrong, and every alarm bell in his head started ringing at once.
Maybe it was time to stop dismissing his daughter as a hopeless romantic and start trusting her judgment.
*****
“Daddy, why do all the other parents keep staring at you?”
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Eloise had been noticing it for days now. Everywhere her father went, heads turned and whispers followed.
Alistair stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Must be my good looks.”
Eloise scrunched up her face. “But you’ve always been handsome. They didn’t use to stare like this.”
“Well,” he said with mock seriousness, “maybe I’ve gotten even more handsome. Like fine wine–better with age.”
“Oh!” Eloise’s eyes went wide with understanding. “That makes sense!”
Alistair scooped her up and strode toward their car.
There were no clear photos of his face on the Internet, and walking down the street, he was usually just another attractive stranger. But the kindergarten pickup line was a different story.
Someone had leaked Eloise’s identity. It had been inevitable, really.
He and Caroline had dropped Eloise off together on her first day.
People might not recognize him, but Caroline? Different s、y.
The families who could afford this kindergarten weren’t exactly working–class. Of course someone would recognize the
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Ashbourne heiress.
Alistair hated the attention. Worse, he worried that the media would potentially frighten Eloise.
If that happened, his “polite” responses would go out the window.
Suddenly, Eloise stretched her hands up to cover his face, barely managing to shield his nose and mouth while leaving his eyes free to navigate.
“What’s this about, sweetie?”
“I don’t want them looking at you anymore,” she said.
“Why not?”
Her voice dropped to a worried whisper. “Because if they keep looking, they’ll figure out you’re the best daddy in the whole world. What if they try to steal you away from me and Mommy?”
Alistair’s heart melted and broke at the same time. All this time later, she was still carrying that trauma.
He said gently, “Nobody could ever take me away from u and your mommy. You’re stuck with me forever.”
By the time they got home, his “Time will tell” interview had
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exploded across social media.
The phrase was trending number one, with everyone from influencers to politicians trying to recreate his casual confidence. They all fell short–they couldn’t fake that kind of authentic ease.
The comments section was a battlefield.
[Look at that face! Those eyes! No way someone that gorgeous is a murderer.]
[That’s exactly what makes him dangerous. Ted Bundy was handsome, too. Psychopaths often hide behind perfect masks.]
[Can we talk about how I finally understand why the Ashbourne heiress married him? That man is finer than aged whiskey. The jawline! The elegance! He makes actual movie stars look like amateurs.]
[Right? If he became an actor, I’d be ready to marry him!]
Caroline happened to scroll past that particular thread. Her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “Marry him?” she murmured.
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