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Alessio's Perspective (POV):

Restlessly, I paced around my office, gazing at the towering skyscrapers outside my window. In just a few months, the groundbreaking for the tallest building in New York would commence, marking a revolutionary shift in the hotel industry.

In this cutthroat business, resilience was key. It meant firmly putting those who contemplated betrayal in their place. "Can you call Hendrik to my office?" I instructed my assistant.

"Sure, sir," Luke promptly responded.

A gentle knock signaled Luke's return, ushering Hendrik, my assistant and occasional friend, into my office. "Mr. Hendrik is here to see you, sir," Luke informed me with a knowing smirk.

"The poor guy thinks he's getting a promotion," Luke added, and I couldn't help but chuckle.

Discovering that Hendrik had been selling confidential information, including deals and projects, to our competitor, Peterson Inc., led me to exploit his actions. I used him as a conduit for misinformation, leaving our rivals clueless about the impending developments. However, with my objectives fulfilled, Hendrik had outlived his usefulness.

After dismissing Luke from my office, I relished this part of my job—the confrontation with those who believed they could betray me without consequences.

Hendrik, seemingly unaware of the impending storm, entered my office with his customary smile. As he joyfully announced the project's green light, I gestured for him to take a seat.

Cutting straight to the chase, I asked, "So, how much were they paying you to betray me?" His expression shifted, and his smile faltered.

"I'm sorry, sir," he stammered.

Unyielding, I confronted him about being the mole leaking our private information. Despite his denial, I knew the truth. "You could have come to me first. You know I never forgive betrayal or lies," I asserted. Threatening to expose him, I vowed to ensure he paid for his actions.

Pleading about threats to his family, Hendrik's excuses fell on deaf ears. "I'll see you in court with my lawyers. Get out of my office," I declared, dismissing him.

As he left, I reflected on how Marc Peterson's influence wouldn't save Hendrik. The game had grown tiresome; betrayal had consequences.

With a sigh, I relaxed momentarily before Luke returned, bearing news of missed calls from my persistent mother. Despite her claim of a serious accident, I dismissed it as her seeking attention.

Ignoring her, I focused on the day's agenda, declining an interview with Forbes and expressing disinterest in tabloid rumors linking me to an heiress. Another distraction, as if dealing with family matters and business weren't enough.

With my neck tensed from the stress, I prepared for a meeting with Leonardo Pierce, an essential figure for my new building project. The perfect construction site, it had attracted offers from competitors, and Pierce's approval was crucial.

As Luke warned about Pierce's attachment to the property, I assured him, "There's no person I haven't managed to talk into anything." Pierce arrived, and I seized the opportunity to present my vision, named "Agatha," for the 1640-feet building.

Despite Pierce's initial interest, he requested time to ponder the decision, emphasizing the personal significance of the property. Desperate for his approval, I suggested he stay at my hotel and get to know me better.

Disappointed by the uncertainty, I concealed my frustration with a fake smile. "I'll take you up on that offer," Pierce agreed, leaving with a promise to contact me.

Frustrated, I kicked a chair, realizing that convincing Pierce wouldn't be as straightforward as I'd hoped. Grandfather's impending visit and his knowledge of the Hendrik situation only added to my stress.

When Grandfather arrived, his smirk hinted at an awareness of recent events. "I heard about what happened with Hendrik," he commented, signaling that my struggles were far from over.

He chuckled. "Alessio, that just reveals your weakness more than I anticipated," he said bitterly. My expression shifted, and I clenched my hand into a fist to restrain my anger.

"If your employees don't respect and fear you, that makes you weak," he continued, swiftly changing the subject. "How is your new project going?" he asked.

"Why do you care so much anyway?" I inquired.

"I don't. I'm just ensuring you don't tarnish my legacy. Frankly, I believe you're capable of more meaningful endeavors than mere hotels," he replied. This was the underlying reason I had to adopt a cold and calculated approach in business—to meet his lofty standards.

"I know you'll need my help and my money for this project to succeed. Just getting this building approved could take years," he asserted.

"I'm fine," I replied, silently thankful that I hadn't turned to alcohol to cope with his constant scrutiny. Enduring his presence while sober felt like a minor miracle.

"You and I are alike. We're both ambitious," he continued, signaling an impending recounting of his life story.

"I built this business from nothing. Your grandmother left me for a wealthy man with three babies. I had no idea how I would provide for them," he paused. My father and his siblings were born as triplets, and my grandmother left in pursuit of a more affluent lifestyle.

"Years later, I am the success you see today. I've built an empire with billions to my name, and I raised my family successfully. If your grandmother could see me now, all she achieved was ending up in a nursing home," he spoke proudly.

His purpose was clear—he was here to flaunt his wealth. Even years after my grandmother's passing, he spoke of her with bitterness.

"Grandpa, you neglected your children, and most of them can't stand you," I retorted.

"That's what happens when you give your children millions. Unable to complain about growing up poor like other kids, they choose resentment toward their parents," he explained.

"Are you also going to explain why you orchestrated a fake story about me in the tabloids?" I redirected the conversation.

"Oh, come on. I was only helping you. At your age, people care about stability. That's how they know they can trust you to do the job right. The sooner you marry that girl, the easier your life will be. Her family has connections. You can divorce her right after. Women like her understand it's purely for business," he suggested.

"I didn't work this hard to sell myself out," I asserted.

"It's time you grow up and join the big boys' table. You need to realize that you don't make the kind of money I make by working hard alone. Sometimes, you have to get your pretty little manicured hands dirty," he advised.

He concluded our conversation. "I think that's enough for our chat today," he stated, rising from his chair with the support of his cane. I watched him leave my office, finally able to release the pent-up tension.

While my grandfather was wrong about many things, he had a point. I was overconfident but lagging behind on my project. The conventional approval process would be too time-consuming, and asking my grandfather for help would mean admitting I couldn't succeed without him. My only alternative was seeking assistance from my father, which had its challenges, but it seemed more viable than turning to my grandfather. It meant dealing with my mother to make it work.

Facing my parents wouldn't be easy, especially after a year of canceling all family events. I summoned Luke to my office.

"Cancel the rest of my appointments for the day and prepare the chopper. I need to visit my parents," I instructed. "Tell the pilot to have the chopper ready."

________________________________________

As the chopper hovered ten feet above my parents' mansion in upstate New York, I observed the tennis court, garden, and swimming pool. There was no one outside except a few maids going about their tasks.

I detested being at home. While work made me feel powerful and in control, my parents attempted to control every aspect of my life. My grandmother siding with them only complicated matters.

The chopper landed on the strip, and I stepped out, removing my sunglasses. Dad approached me as I made my way to the house.

"If it isn't the son I forgot I had," he sarcastically remarked.

"Hi, Dad," I greeted.

He pulled me into a hug. "Your mom is pretty upset. You should have at least brought some flowers," he suggested.

"No worries. I'll just take some from the thousands she has in her garden," I quipped.

Dad chuckled, and we walked to the mansion, discussing the latest football match. Mom, seated on the couch, lost her smile as I approached. She tilted away, pretending not to notice me, and began sipping her coffee.

"Hi, Mom," I greeted.

No response.

In just 1, 2, 3...

She dropped her magazine. "I've never regretted having you as a son more. What kind of person doesn't show up to their party?" she shouted.

"Mom, I told you I wasn't interested in those kinds of things. I'm busy. I told you," I replied.

"It's my fault. It's my fault that I couldn't have any more children after I had my ovaries removed. I'm the reason I had cancer. Maybe if that hadn't happened, I would have another more grateful child," she pretended to sob.

I ignored her, as usual.

"I wish you were more like your cousin; he is always seen with a girl," Mom said.

"You want me to be a whore?" I asked.

"Yes, at least that way I'd know there was a chance of you accidentally getting someone pregnant," she replied.

I didn't understand; I simply wanted to focus on my work. There was no point in wasting time on meaningless relationships.

"What kind of a person has a child at twenty-seven?" I questioned.

The thought of having a child scared me. Why couldn't they just get a dog like normal people?

"You've decided to abandon us. You need to stop making excuses and just give me a grandchild," Mom insisted. She was more hardheaded than I was.

Dad cleared his throat, taking a seat between Mom and me. "You know, son," he began. "If it doesn't 'work,' we can always get you the help that you need," he suggested.

I covered my face with my fists, unable to believe what he had just said. This was why I claimed to be an orphan throughout middle school.

"There are plenty of people who experience the same problem. It's nothing to be ashamed of," Dad continued.

"We don't need to have this conversation. It works perfectly fine," I interjected.

There was a brief pause as my parents contemplated their next theory.

"Do you think our son is gay?" Mom exclaimed, looking at Dad.

Their eyes widened, mirroring the same expression.

"I'm not gay," I clarified. "Stop talking about me as if I wasn't there."

Mom rolled her eyes. "Where is Grandma anyway?" I asked.

"She is sleeping away her disappointment of her only grandchild not showing up to his birthday party," Mom replied. "Are you going to miss my funeral next?"

I sighed, leaving my seat. We were never going to agree on anything. I was done having this conversation.

"Dad, there's something I need to discuss with you," I said.

I left the room for the bar room, our mancave. Dad followed behind me.

"You know, your mom was pretty upset. She had to apologize to so many guests," Dad said.

He poured himself some whiskey. "I need your help," I sighed.

"Did you get someone pregnant?" he asked.

"No," I replied. "What's up with you and Mom wanting grandchildren? We just spoke about this," I said.

"Since you moved out, your mom redirected all the attention she gave you to me. Honestly, your mother can be exhausting," he explained, taking a sip of his whiskey.

"Well, I was hoping you would introduce me to the Mayor. I need to have a project approved, and going through the usual procedure would take way too long," I said.

"Why not just bribe your way like every billionaire in this city?" he suggested.

"I don't want to risk any scandals. I want this to be as discreet as possible—the fewer people who know, the better," I replied.

"I'll be happy to help you out, son," he said, slapping me on the shoulder.

"Well, I knew you were here because you wanted something," Mom interjected.

Dad and I turned around to find Mom leaning in the doorway. I recognized that tone—it meant she wanted something.

This was bad news for me; Dad pretty much did everything Mom said.

This presented an opportunity for her to extract something from me. Consequently, there wouldn't be a meeting with the mayor unless I acquiesced to her terms.

"What do you want, Mom?" I inquired.

"I want you to go on a few dates," she stated.

"Fine, I'll show up to my birthday party next year," I countered. I couldn't afford to spend an hour pretending to listen to someone.

"And I need you to bring a girl home," she insisted.

She wasn't relenting; this seemed like the best deal I could secure.

"Are you really going to exploit your own son when he needs your help?" I questioned, attempting to appeal to her better nature.

"That look hasn't worked on me in twenty years, plus, you left me no other choice," she responded.

I shook my head at her.

"One day, you'll have your own kids, and you can control them too," she said with a smile.

"So, will you be joining us for dinner tomorrow, son?" Dad asked.

"No, I have a guest I need to entertain at my hotel. It's time I finally see for myself how things are running," I replied.