Be My Woman: A Billionaire's Redemption

“Then do it,” he said, voice deadly calm. “I dare you.”

Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked out of the boardroom like a storm in a suit.

The tension he left behind was suffocating.

For a second, no one moved.

Cole’s jaw dropped.

“Is he even thinking straight?”

He shot Stella a baffled look, but she was already sweeping up the files with a mumbled curse.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.”

She glanced at the stunned board members, flashed an apologetic fake smile, and dashed out.

Cole was already chasing after Jace.

“Boss! Wait! You seriously want to blow this whole thing up?! We spent six months negotiating with those—”

Jace stopped just in front of the elevator, arms folded, calm as ever.

Stella caught up a breath behind, panting, heels clicking frantically.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack before thirty?”

Then Jace casually checked his watch and started counting under his breath.

“Five... four... three... two...”

Before he could say one, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

He took out the phone and gave it to Cole.

Cole blinked.

“Boss, it’s them.”

Jace didn’t even look surprised.

“Answer it.”

Cole picked up, listened for a few seconds, then looked up, dazed.

“They... agreed to your terms.”

Jace smirked faintly, like he’d known they would.

He took his phone from Cole and pocketed it back.

“Stella, go finalize the contract with them. Cole, deliver the necessary documents to my house. Make sure they’re signed and clean.”

He stepped into the elevator like nothing had just happened.

The doors began to close.

Stella stood there frozen in disbelief.

“Oh my fucking God.”

She turned to Cole with wide eyes.

“How does he pull that kind of stunt? I thought for sure we were going down with the ship.”

Cole sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Let’s just go. If I die of stress before forty, you know who to blame.”

---

CALLAHAN ISLAND

The jet-black car came to a stop in front of the sprawling, marble-fronted mansion nestled in the heart of Callahan Island, an isolated sanctuary few even knew existed.

Jace stepped out, his presence colder than the sea breeze that swept across the cliffside property.

A line of maids stood near the entrance in perfect formation, heads bowed.

“Welcome home, Boss,” they said in near unison.

He gave a nod, already making his way inside with long strides.

“So, you’re actually in Paris and didn’t think of coming to see me?” a familiar voice rang out, dripping with sarcasm.

Jace glanced sideways.

“Mom.”

Mrs. Marie Callahan sat elegantly on one of the white leather sofas, legs crossed, wine glass in hand like a scene out of a movie.

She was dressed in beige silk, her hair neatly pinned and her earrings probably worth more than an average person's house.

“I was busy. If you have anything to say, tell Cole directly,” he muttered, already pulling off his wristwatch and tossing it onto the table.

“Don’t you dare use that tone with me, young man. I am your mother!” Marie snapped, her voice rising an octave as she stood up.

“I don’t really care, you know,” Jace said with a scoff, unbothered as he unbuttoned his cuffs.

“Jesus Christ, who raised you?” she gasped, placing a hand on her chest like she was about to faint.

“You, apparently,” he shot back flatly. “Hold on. Why are you even here? You hate this island.”

Marie rolled her eyes dramatically.

“Of course I do. I hate coming here because it’s practically in the middle of nowhere. There’s not even decent reception. And don’t get me started on the silence. It’s depressing.”

She walked toward him, high heels tapping against the marble floor.

“How on earth is your future wifey going to meet you if you spend your entire life working and then vanishing into this godforsaken place?”

Jace crossed his arms.

“Good. That’s the idea.”

“Goodness!! This boy!!”

“You haven’t answered my question, Mom,” Jace said, his tone flat, eyes narrowed as he turned halfway up the staircase, one hand resting on the polished banister. “Why are you really here?”

Marie straightened from the velvet couch, clasping her hands together as if preparing to deliver earth-shattering news.

“Well... I set up a blind date for you.”

There was a pause.

It was silent.

Lethal.

Then came the eruption.

“Again with this nonsense?!”

Jace spun around fully, his voice thunderous now.

“Do you hear yourself? Do you have nothing else to do with your time?”

Marie flinched at the sharpness of his tone but held her ground.

“She’s not nonsense. She’s beautiful, Jace. She comes from a good family, she’s well-mannered, educated, cultured—”

“If you’re so smitten by her, maybe you should date her,” he snapped, eyes cold and jaw clenched. “Better yet, throw a wedding and marry her yourself. At least one of us will be happy.”

“Jace!” Marie gasped, her voice cracking with frustration. “Can you stop doing this to me? You’re going to kill me before my time with all this stress! I just want to see you settled. In love. With a wife. With kids. A normal life like everyone else’s son!”

“I’m not everyone else’s son,” he said coldly. “You raised me to be a weapon and not a husband. Now you want a fairytale ending? Too late.”

He turned his back and began climbing the stairs without waiting for her response.

“Jace! Come back here!” she shouted, rising to her feet.

He didn’t even flinch.

“Goodnight.”

“JACE!” Her heels echoed as she took a step forward. “Don’t walk away from me!”

“Go home,” he said without looking back.

“I hate you!” she screamed, her voice shrill and furious.

Jace reached the top of the stairs and stopped.

Slowly, deliberately, he turned his head, his eyes dark with disdain.

“The feeling’s mutual.”

Then he disappeared down the hall.

Jace entered his bedroom and kicked the door shut behind him, silence swallowing the vast space.

He tugged off his shirt and tossed it onto the chaise by the window.

He opened the cabinet near the bookshelf, pulled out a silver case, and flicked it open.

Inside, cigarettes rested like soldiers waiting for duty.

He took one out, lit it, and placed it between his lips, drawing in a slow breath as smoke curled into the air.

His jaw ticked as he exhaled toward the ceiling.

Crossing the room, he knelt in front of the mini-fridge, pulling it open.

A single, tiny cupcake sat on the top shelf.

Chocolate.

Her favorite.

He set it on the nightstand, opened a drawer, and pulled out a candle, small, pink, shaped like a heart.

With a flick of his lighter, he lit the candle, the flame flickering weakly.

He turned and walked over to the dark mahogany shelf by his bed, picking up a small photo frame.

The picture inside showed a young woman smiling brightly with messy curls, her head thrown back in laughter as she clung to his arm.

His deceased ex-girlfriend.

"Happy birthday, Ariel," he said quietly, almost inaudibly.