It was a shame that James had already mapped out their futures ages ago.
George was the reliable, old-school type. He was the safe bet for maintaining the family legacy. But Klein was ruthless and decisive, and he was James’s favorite successor.
Thanks to Klein’s bold moves, the Harris family stood at the pinnacle of Ravorport’s high society. Many regarded him as a wild card, but every risky decision he made had proven to be the right one.
Five years ago, James had stepped back from the company for good, placing Klein in charge.
But Klein had never been one for the spotlight. He had handed off the domestic business and ventured overseas to carve out his own empire.
James shot Carter a knowing look. “What, are you worried Klein will keep you in line now that he’s back?”
Klein was 33-not old by any means, but he had a serious, old-fashioned demeanor.
Back when Carter was 17, he had once snuck out with Emily for a joyride in the family car. Klein had nearly gotten him into serious trouble with the law for it.
So, Carter had always felt a twinge of fear around Klein.
He rubbed his nose, trying to appear nonchalant. “No way, why would I be?”
He forced an awkward laugh, but when he caught Whitney’s icy glare, a few sparks of anger flared up inside him.
Leaning in close to her ear, his voice thick with annoyance, he whispered, “What’s so funny?”
Whitney picked up a piece of fish and popped it into her mouth, a smirk playing on her lips. “Nothing. I just think you’re pretty amusing.”
Suddenly, a deep, magnetic voice cut through the air. “What’s so funny? Mind sharing the joke with everyone?”
Whitney’s heart skipped a beat at the sound.
A tall figure approached, gradually coming into view.
He wore a charcoal gray suit, his black shirt buttoned up to the collar, giving him an air of authority. His eyes were sharp and piercing, his brows drawn together, and his expression unreadable.
“Dad, sorry I’m late.” The speaker was none other than Klein Harris.
Whitney felt a jolt of surprise at Klein’s unexpected inquiry. Just moments ago, she had been playfully teasing Carter, but now, the playful banter evaporated, leaving her unable to muster even a semblance of a smile.
It wasn’t merely that Carter harbored a fear of Klein; Whitney found herself desperate to steer clear of Klein altogether.
When she was sixteen, she spent an entire month rehearsing how to confess her feelings for Carter in the privacy of her thoughts. Finally, when the adults of the Harris family were away, she gathered her courage and approached Carter’s bedroom door, her heart racing. She stared down at her shoes, feeling the weight of her anxiety pressing down on her. With a deep breath, she knocked softly, her palms clammy with anticipation.
As the door creaked open, she kept her gaze firmly on the floor, too shy to meet the eyes of the boy she admired. Her cheeks flushed a bright crimson as she managed to whisper, “Carter, I like you.”
In that moment, she wished she could erase the memory from existence. Just then, a man’s voice, tinged with mild amusement, broke through her thoughts. “Whitney, Carter’s room is downstairs.”
Startled, she looked up only to find that it wasn’t Carter standing before her-it was Klein.
There he was, clad only in a towel, the faint scent of body wash lingering in the air around him. His eyes danced with a playful glint, mixed with a hint of confusion that only added to her embarrassment.
Whitney felt her heart race, and she couldn’t bear to hold his gaze any longer. With a stammered apology, she turned on her heel and hurried down the stairs, not daring to look back.
After that mortifying encounter, Whitney avoided Harris Manor for months, each visit a painful reminder of that day.
“Hey, wake up.” Carter’s gentle nudge brought her back to the present, and she blinked, momentarily disoriented.
Quickly lowering her head, she mumbled, “Hi, Uncle Klein.”
Carter observed her with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. “She was just giving me attitude a second ago, but as soon as Uncle Klein shows up, she goes all quiet,” he thought, a smirk creeping onto his face.
“Uncle Klein, we were just talking about you! It feels like ages since you returned. We’ve all missed you,” Carter added, his voice brightening.
Klein settled into a chair next to James, casually tossing his jacket over the back and rolling up his sleeves with an air of nonchalance. “Oh really? That’s funny, because I distinctly remember you being the one laughing the loudest when I left, Carter,” he replied, a teasing glint in his eyes.
Carter shifted uncomfortably, his cheeks tinged with embarrassment. “That was a lifetime ago, Uncle Klein. Let’s not dwell on it now,” he said, attempting to steer the conversation away from the past.
“Dad, sorry I’m late. I’d like to propose a toast,” Klein announced, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
James chuckled, the corners of his mouth crinkling into a smile. It was well known that Klein was his favorite son, and the affection was evident.
“No worries, Klein. You just got off the plane. No drinking for you tonight,” James replied, shaking his head in mock disapproval.
Klein merely smiled, a hint of rebellion in his eyes, and downed his drink in a single gulp.
His calm gaze swept across the room before settling on Carter. “So, Carter, have you and Emily gotten your marriage license yet? I came back just for your wedding,” he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice.
At that moment, Emily’s glass slipped from her fingers, smashing to the floor and scattering shards everywhere.
“Oh no, sorry! I lost my grip,” she exclaimed, bending down to gather the pieces.
Without hesitation, she knelt to pick up the glass, but as she did, she suddenly gasped, a sharp breath escaping her lips as pain shot through her finger.
“Careful!” Carter called out, his voice laced with concern.
He rushed over to her side, gently cradling her injured hand. “Why do you always manage to get hurt like this?” he teased, though his tone was a blend of genuine worry and playful banter.
“Grandpa, I’m taking Emily to get her hand bandaged,” he announced, his demeanor shifting to that of a protective older brother.
Ignoring the disapproving glances from the table, Carter wrapped his arm around Emily’s trembling shoulders and led her away, determination etched on his face.
Whitney rolled her eyes internally, thinking, He should really hurry up and get her bandaged. If he doesn’t, that tiny cut will be healed by the time he gets back.
James, Sabrina, and George exchanged glances, their expressions darkening. They weren’t fooled by Carter’s act of concern; they all knew there was more to it.
Sabrina offered Whitney a gentle smile, patting her hand reassuringly. “Whit, you know Emily’s always been delicate. It’s only natural that Carter looks out for her,” she said, her voice soothing.
Klein turned the plate of fish toward Whitney with a faint, inscrutable smile. “Try some fish, Whitney. I remember how much you loved it when you were a child,” he suggested, his tone casual, yet the way he spoke as a proper elder made her squirm.
She couldn’t stand the thought of him reminiscing about her childhood. Keeping her head down, she murmured, “Thanks, Uncle Klein.”
Even after dinner concluded, Carter and Emily didn’t return.
Whitney stood up, a sense of finality in her voice as she addressed James. “Grandpa, it’s getting late. I have a court case tomorrow, so I should head out now.”
James couldn’t help but curse Carter silently in his mind. Finally, he replied, “Alright, work comes first.”
He glanced around the table, then added, “Wait, you didn’t drive, did you? Why not let Klein take you home?”
Whitney immediately shook her head. “No thanks, Grandpa. Uncle Klein’s been drinking.”
The thought of Klein getting pulled over for a DUI right after returning home made her stomach churn.
Klein chuckled, brushing off her concerns. “It’s fine. I have an international meeting tonight, so I’m leaving anyway. The driver can drop you off on the way.”
And just like that, Whitney found herself reluctantly climbing into Klein’s car.
She attempted to slide into the front seat, but the driver promptly locked the door, leaving her no choice but to settle into the back seat. “Thanks, Uncle Klein,” she said with an awkward smile.
Klein smirked, “No problem.”
“Where to? The place you and Carter share?” he asked, his voice low, a hint of alcohol still lingering in his words.
Whitney almost shook her head in protest but remembered that the Harrises were still unaware of her breakup with Carter. “Skyline Garden,” she replied, nodding slightly.
Klein’s expression turned serious as he instructed the driver, “Skyline Garden, go.”
As they drove, Whitney angled her body towards the window, desperate to avoid Klein’s gaze.
But even in the silence, the tension in the car was suffocating, making her feel trapped.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.