The Billionaire's Brat Wants Me

The weekend was over, and I was back behind my desk, half-buried in a mountain of spreadsheets and financial briefs for the Meridian Development Initiative. The transition from Naomi's cheerful home to the quiet, faintly humming air-conditioning of Gray & Milton's Finance Division felt… abrupt, to say the least.

I leaned back in my chair, eyes narrowing at the screen. It had been a month since we kicked off Phase II, though if I was being precise, three weeks would be more accurate— one week had gone down the drain thanks to those misplaced Phase I performance files. Even now, the memory of everyone frantically searching through the server archives made my temples throb.

At least we'd found them eventually, thanks to Val.

I refocused on the task at hand, a cash flow projection model for the next quarter. The Meridian Initiative was massive: it was the government project of the decade — multi-sector, multi-billion, and destined to reshape the country's infrastructure for years to come. Highways, power grids, public transport systems — everything tied together under one massive development plan. The figures were complex, the margins tight, and the client expectations higher than usual.

I'd just finished reconciling the amortization schedule when my intercom buzzed.

"Kai, can you step into my office for a moment?" Hale's voice came through, firm but calm, the way it always was.

"On my way," I said, saving the document and pushing back from my desk.

Through the glass walls, I spotted Tasha already seated across from him, a tablet in hand, her expression thoughtful.

"Morning," I greeted, stepping in.

"Morning, Kai," Hale said, motioning for me to sit. "We were just going over the Meridian progress reports."

That tone told me something wasn't sitting right.

Tasha turned the tablet toward me, swiping to a graph filled with bar lines and red markers. "We got a note from the Bureau liaison this morning. Apparently, Moreau Dynamics revised their operational model last week. Their efficiency metrics jumped by nearly twelve percent after the update."

I looked at the screen, eyebrows drawing together. "Twelve? That's not a small tweak, that's a full restructuring."

Hale leaned back in his chair, arms folded. "That's what the Bureau said. They've been reworking their logistics pipeline, trimming down supplier redundancy, and apparently built a secondary automation model into their transport division. If that's accurate, it could add to their advantage when the next evaluation round starts."

"Of course it's accurate," Tasha murmured, sliding the tablet toward me. "They've probably been preparing that adjustment for months. The Bureau only shares updates when the numbers are verified."

I glanced between them, then at the chart again. The difference was glaring — Moreau Dynamics had just pulled ahead on a front Gray & Milton had been struggling to balance for weeks. "We'll need to review our expenditure ratios," I said finally. "If their logistics model really is that efficient, we'll look slow by comparison unless we restructure."

Hale nodded slowly. "You think it's salvageable?"

"Depends," I said, pulling my own notepad closer. "If we can rework the freight optimization and revise our subcontractor analysis within the week, maybe. Otherwise, we're playing catch-up."

He exhaled heavily through his nose, glancing toward the window. "Then we don't have a week. Make it three days."

---

Back at my desk, I sank into my chair, staring at the spreadsheet again. It was almost amusing how often Moreau Dynamics managed to slip into my day, even when Val wasn't anywhere near this office.

Not that there was an exact rivalry — not yet, anyway. Gray & Milton wasn't some small firm clawing for relevance. We were one of the big names, respected, capable, and steady. But Moreau Dynamics… they carried a different kind of weight. Legacy. Influence. The kind that made people listen before you even spoke.

Two giants in the same race — one driven by precision, the other by reputation.

Still, whenever their numbers came up in a Bureau report or comparative analysis, something in me shifted — not envy, exactly, but an itch. The quiet need to understand how they did it. What choices, what risks, what kind of thinking pushed them that far ahead.

Val would probably roll her eyes if she knew. Or maybe she'd smirk and say something about "professional curiosity."

I smiled faintly at the thought and went back to the sheet, fingers flying across the keyboard. Data cells shifted, formulas recalculated, and a new projection began to take shape.

The hum of the office wrapped around me again — phones ringing, printers clicking, faint murmurs from the cubicles down the hall. Steady. Familiar.

And yet, somewhere between the numbers, I found myself thinking about how strange it all was — two companies chasing the same bid, two different worlds moving toward the same goal, tied together by something neither of us would ever put second.

Family came first. Always. That was the rule between me and Val — unspoken, but understood.

By the time the clock on my monitor ticked past noon, the hybrid forecast was halfway done. Not perfect. Not yet. But enough to keep Gray & Milton in the game.

I leaned back and exhaled softly, watching the screen dim for a second before I reached for the mouse again.

Maybe that's what this job really is, finding rhythm in the chaos, balance between what's safe and what's right.

I smiled faintly.

And as long as I remembered what came first, the rest would fall into place.

---

The house was quiet, the kind of quiet that comes after dinner when everyone else has retreated to their corners or chores. Aline had likely disappeared into the kitchen to wash up, and Duchess was probably somewhere curled on a sunbeam in the living room. Upstairs, in our room, it was just Val and me, a shared space where work, life, and love collided in ways neither of us ever really separated.

I scrolled through emails on my phone, eyes skimming numbers and projections I'd already half memorized, when a soft sigh drew my attention. Then another. And another. Sixteen sighs later, each one punctuated by the subtle tap of her finger across the tablet screen, I finally set the phone down and leaned back on the headboard.

"Okay," I said, raising my voice just enough to cut through the rhythmic sound. "What's wrong this time?"

Val looked at me, her expression a careful mix of irritation and hesitance. She held her tablet between us, thumbs hovering over the screen like it might bite her if she spoke too loudly.

"It's… Lucien," she muttered finally, her voice quieter than usual. She bit her lip, deliberating how much to tell me, knowing that while I was her husband and her confidant, the real problem was that we were rivals in this Meridian project.

I pushed myself upright slightly, curiosity piqued. "Oh? What did he do now?"

"He's been messing with the numbers again, Kai. Changing projections, tweaking calculations… like he thinks he knows better. And this isn't a small thing — it affects timelines, budget forecasts, everything. If this keeps up, it could throw the whole Meridian project off course."

I didn't respond immediately. Instead, I studied her face. The frown, the tense jaw, the way her fingers lingered over the tablet as though letting go would make the numbers fall apart. I knew her. I knew when she was genuinely concerned and when she was just… annoyed. This was concern. Real concern.

"You're smarter than me," I said finally, voice soft. "You'll figure it out. You always do."

Her lips pressed together in that way she does when she's thinking — the way she knows she can't just complain, she has to let the logic catch up with her emotions. But then she leaned back, exhaling slowly.

"No," she said. "I need to tell someone. If I don't… it'll just fester, and that's worse."

I raised an eyebrow. "Someone like… me?"

She shot me a sidelong glance, then sighed again. "Yes. You. Of course you. You're my… shoulders, remember?"

I chuckled softly, leaning back against the headboard. "Right. Shoulders, listening ear, occasional advisor, occasional pain in the neck…"

Val's lips twitched into a reluctant smile. "Exactly."

She tapped on the tablet a few more times, scrolling through the report, then looked up at me. "It's this bit here," she said, holding the screen toward me. "Lucien changed the efficiency metrics. He said it'd look better on paper if we… adjusted the numbers for the new board review. But he doesn't understand the downstream effects. It's not just the numbers themselves. It's the projections. The timelines. It's everything."

I nodded slowly. "I see." I could see the anger and frustration in her eyes, but also the way her lips quirked slightly when she was trying to keep control. "And your dad agreed to let him have the Meridian review pass-through?" I asked carefully.

Val sighed again. "Yes. Can you believe it? He said, 'Lucien will be running this for final review, and it's time to test him as the firstborn.'"

She narrowed her eyes, shaking her head. "Firstborn, sure. But not the brightest idea he's had lately. My dad trusts me more, he knows I'd catch the errors. But apparently, this is also… some sort of test for Lucien. To see if he can manage responsibility."

I leaned back, exhaling softly. "Huh. I'd almost call that an advantage for Gray & Milton… if it weren't making you this stressed."

Val's eyes softened as she looked at me, her lips quirking into a tiny, wry smile. "You're enjoying this too much," she said.

"No," I said, tone gentler now. "I'm just saying… family first, right? That's what we always say. The project is important, but it's not worth more than your peace of mind."

Her eyes softened. "Exactly. Family first."

We sat like that for a moment, letting the weight of the day and the layers of corporate entanglement settle around us. She scrolled through the tablet a few more times, double-checking the numbers she knew Lucien had altered, her fingers brushing lightly against mine as though the contact might ground her.

"I'll fix it," she said quietly, almost to herself. "I'll get it back in line."

I smiled, pressing a hand over hers. "I know you will. That's why I don't worry. You've got this."

Her sigh this time was softer, less a release of frustration and more a settling into trust. "I just… hate that he doesn't understand. Or maybe he does and just doesn't care," she muttered, lips pursing.

"Let's not think that way," I said, tilting my head toward her. "Whatever his reasons, it's not worth letting it eat at you. You're more capable than he'll ever be. Focus on what you can control — which is everything your hands touch."

Val let out a laugh that was half resignation, half amusement. "Everything I touch…"

"Yes," I said, smiling. "Everything. And I'll be here, reminding you of it whenever you need."

She leaned against me, letting herself relax finally. "You always know what to say," she said softly.

"And you always know what to do," I replied. "We balance each other."

Her eyes softened, and she whispered, almost to herself, "Family first."

"Always," I said, voice low. "Always."

The room was quiet again, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning and the faint glow of tablet screen.

I watched her for a moment longer, letting the peace settle in. The numbers on her tablet would need fixing. Lucien would eventually have to answer for his little adjustments. But right now, the work could wait a bit.

Right now, family first.

I closed my eyes, letting the thought linger as I reached over to take her hand, curling my fingers around hers.

And for the first time that evening, the tension lifted — just a little — replaced by the quiet certainty that we had each other, no matter how high the stakes or how messy the corporate chess game became.

---

To be continued...