At Le Château Royale, the clinking of silverware was the only sound between them. Lydia and Rowan ate in silence.
Rowan finally broke it, dabbing his lips with a napkin. "So... you're a Zander?" His voice held amusement.
Lydia met his gaze. "Yes."
A slow whistle left his lips. "Damn. The woman I pulled out of a pool turns out to be the President's daughter."
She shrugged. "Life happens."
His brow arched. "But why the secrecy? No one knows what the President's daughter looks like."
Lydia's expression darkened. "You must have heard about the tragedy ten years ago, right? My father had four children. One was poisoned, another died in an accident, and the youngest was kidnapped. Her body washed up on the beach."
Rowan exhaled sharply. "That's... horrific."
Lydia nodded "All within a year."
His fingers tightened around his glass. "How did you survive?"
Lydia's gaze flickered. "I was stabbed. But someone saved me in time. After that, my identity was erased. For my own safety."
Rowan studied her. "That must have been hard, force to live a low-key life.
She laughed. "No. If anything, I liked it. No attention. No stalkers. No fear. My parents paid a poor family to raise me."
"You went from wealth to poverty?"
"Yep, There was a time I was bullied. Times I couldn't afford textbooks. I ate once a day. Worked on a farm." She smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "I lived."
Rowan leaned in. "And knowing your father was rich?"
She exhaled. "I forgot them. Embraced my new life. Learned things." A small smirk tugged her lips. "Like cooking, knitting, farming…"
"Farming?" Rowan's lips twitched. "Go on, impress me."
She ticked off on her fingers. " I can plant Maize. Groundnuts. Tomatoes"
He chuckled. "Alright, alright. You win."
She stabbed a piece of steak with her fork. "Enough of me, tell me about you."
Rowan leaned back. "I'm my parents firstborn son. Raised with one goal, inherit the family empire."
Lydia tilted her head. "And you don't know how to farm, do you?"
"Hell no. But I can cook."
"Oh?" Her brows lifted. "What can you cook?"
He grinned. "I can fry eggs. And make noodles."
She choked on her drink. "Wait, that's it?!"
"Yup."
Lydia threw her head back laughing. "Rowan, a six-year-old can do that!"
He shrugged, grinning. "Still counts." After dinner, they watched a horror movie. Rowan flinched at the jump scares, but Lydia didn't even blink.
Rowan stole glances at her, both amused and intrigued. "You're unreal."
She smirked. "You're a scaredy-cat."
Later, they walked under the city lights.
Rowan hesitated before saying, "I want to know you, Lydia. Really know you more than this. "
"Okay?"
"In a romantic way, let take things to next level who knows…"
Her smile faded. "Rowan… I don't do love anymore."
"Why?" His jaw clenched.
"I agreed to this date for my mother's sake. That's all."
"I get it." He nodded, hiding his disappointment.
But deep down, he didn't.
When Lydia returned home, her mother was waiting by the door.
"How did it go?"
Lydia rolled her eyes. "Mom, please."
"Come on. What did he say?"
"Wait, why aren't you in your room?"
"I was waiting for you child."
She sighed, tossing her purse on the sofa. "He's nice. A gentleman, witty, he is funny."
Her mother's eyes twinkled. "So… do you like him?"
Lydia cleared her throat. "Too soon for that."
Mrs. Zander chuckled. "Alright, whatever you say. Your father wants to see you in his study."
Lydia saluted playfully. "Roger that."
She took the stairs to her dad's study room.
Upstairs, she knocked once before stepping in. "Dad?"
Mr. Zander barely looked up from his papers. "Tomorrow,Ben's company will be selecting their new CEO tomorrow, I want you there."
Lydia frowned. "Ben's company?"
Then it clicked.
Her ex-husband's family business.
Her lips parted. "Isn't that Clinton's…"
"Yes. He and his cousin are the candidates."
"Oh."
"Not oh, you will exercise your power there, I want you to show that you are capable of being my heir."
Lydia smirked. "And you want me to flex my power?"
Her father's gaze sharpened. "Lydia no personal feeling involved."
"Don't worry dad." She straightened.
"I sent files to your email. Study them. They are the strength and weakness of Ben's company."
"I will."
"Good. That's all. Goodnight." He reached for his coffee. Adjusted his glass.
"Aren't you forgetting something?"
Lydia folded her arms. "Not even gonna ask about my date?"
Her father barely blinked. "You went on a date. Good for you. Dismissed."
Lydia scoffed. " Ugh! Unbelievable!" Storming out, she threw a glance back at his office, stomped her foot, and left.
The next morning, Benjamin's Company was abuzz. Clinton arrived at the board meeting, confident. His grandfather always favored him. His performance had been stellar.
Some boards members were congratulating him in advance.
The board of executives sat around a long, polished table, files and tablets spread before them. At the head of the room, the chairman, a man in his late seventies adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat.
"Let's begin."
Seated on opposite sides of the room, Clinton and Ryan, the two candidates for the CEO position waited, their faces unreadable.
A senior executive, Mr. Harris, tapped his pen against a file. "We have thoroughly assessed both candidates' contributions to the company. Let's review the performance reports."
A large screen lit up.
"Clinton," Harris began, "you have spearheaded three major projects, increasing revenue by 27% in the last fiscal year. Your leadership has been aggressive, yet effective."
Clinton leaned back, crossing his arms, a confident smirk playing on his lips.
"Ryan," Harris continued, turning to the other man, "your projects have shown steady growth, focusing on long-term stability rather than aggressive expansion. Your leadership is methodical and calculated."
Ryan remained still, nodding slightly.
The chairman folded his hands. "Both approaches have merit. However, given the numbers…" He gestured to the screen where the votes were displayed.
Clinton: 72%.
Ryan: 28%.
Murmurs rippled across the room.
Clinton inhaled deeply, satisfaction curling through him. He had won.
Ryan glanced at the board members, but there was no surprise on his face, only resignation.
The chairman exhaled, nodding. "It seems the board has spoken. Clinton…"
Before he could finish, the conference room doors burst open.
A breathless assistant rushed in, clutching a phone. "Sir, we have a situation."
The chairman scowled. "We are in the middle of an important…"
"It's the President's daughter," the assistant interrupted. "She's on her way here."
A silence fell over the room.
Executives exchanged uneasy glances. Some adjusted their ties, others straightened their posture.
Clinton's brow furrowed. "Who the hell is she? And why does she have a say in this?"
Nevertheless, he stood up.
Before anyone could answer, the doors swung open again.
And Lydia Zander walked in.
A sharp scent of amber and jasmine filled the air. Hair in a sharp ponytail. Red lips curved into the ghost of a smirk.
Clinton almost lost balance, color draining from his face.
Her gaze swept the room before landing on Clinton.
She reached the head of the table, eyes locking onto his.
Then she smirked.
His throat went dry.
Despite the air conditioning, sweat prickled at his temples.
"Lydia?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.
She smirked. "Surprised to see me?"
Clinton's fingers curled into fists. What the hell was she doing here?
The chairman adjusted his glasses, clearing his throat. "Ms. Zander, this is unexpected." Even the chairman couldn't hide his shock.
Lydia turned to face him. "I apologize for the intrusion, but as the President's daughter, and considering my family's stakes in this company, I believe I have the right to be here."
A murmur ran through the room.
Clinton's jaw clenched. "What do you want, Lydia?"
She arched a brow. "I'm here to exercise my power."
Ryan, who had been silent the entire time, leaned forward slightly, interest flickering in his eyes.
The chairman hesitated. "Ms. Zander, we were just about to finalize our decision,"
"Then I arrived just in time." Lydia pulled out a folder and set it on the table. "Before you proceed, I think you should see this."
The executives exchanged wary glances before the chairman finally gestured for the documents. A few men leaned in, scanning the pages.
As they read, expressions shifted.
Frowns deepened. Mouths tightened. One man even muttered a curse.
Clinton's heart pounded.
What the hell was in that folder?
After a long, tense silence, the chairman exhaled sharply. "Ms. Zander, where did you get this information?"
Lydia's smirk never wavered. "That's not important. What's important is that you see the full picture before making a final decision."
The chairman adjusted his glasses again, looking between Clinton and Ryan. His fingers tapped against the table.
Then, he turned to Clinton.
"Clinton, do you have anything to say about this?"
Clinton's mouth opened, but no words came out.
His mind raced. What the hell did she just do?
Lydia crossed her arms, waiting.
Clinton's victory was crumbling before his eyes.