Page 10 of Under His Control
“No such luck, brother.” Damas places a thick folder on my desk. “The lawyers are adamant. Apparently, Mother and Father put every conceivable clause and backup clause in that will. No heir, noHospitium. If you refuse, or fail to accomplish the request, the process of liquidation and donation begins.”
“Typical of them to throw in so many contingencies.”
Damas’s lips curve. There’s that smirk.
“They were thorough. You have to give them that.”
“I don’t want to give them a damn thing.”
Our parents have been dead for years—three for Mother, five for Father. Yet even from beyond the grave, they manage to manipulate my life. I loved them, admired them, but they always wanted me to become someone other than who I was. A man who’d settle down, produce a family, carry on the Ovechkin name.
For years, I was in the dark about the process through which I’d inherit theHospitium, and ownership would officially become mine. The lawyers kept it vague, cloaked in language that felt ceremonial more than binding.
Only several months ago—three years to the day since my mother passed—did everything click into place. That’s when the final clause of the will was triggered, and when the truthlanded in my lap like a lead weight—no marriage, no heir, noHospitium.
I still can’t believe it.
I can hear Father’s voice scolding me now:You can’t keep working like this forever, Anatoly. You need a wife, a legacy.
I pick up the folder and open it, skimming the first page of the documents inside. It’s a neat summary of the entire estate, listing our shares.
“I thought I could stall indefinitely, but apparently, that’s not an option anymore.”
Damas taps the page. “The lawyers have a timeline, which, I admit, they’re only now enforcing because you’ve avoided their polite reminders for so long.”
I shoot him a glare. “Polite reminders? They sent multiple letters telling me I had to get married and father a child, as if it’s something you can just check off a list. I ignored them because, well, it’s nonsense.”
He lifts his hands in a mild shrug. “It’s not nonsense to them, clearly. And it most definitely wasn’t to Father. This was his final wish.”
Hearing those words is like a gut punch. I hate that both of my parents are gone, and that this is how they’ve chosen to speak to me—through legal documents and obligations.
Slumping into my chair, I rub my temples. “What do they think I am, a stud horse? Someone to be trotted out and forcibly bred?”
Damas smirks. “Well, your love life isn’t exactly a parade of serious relationships. Maybe they anticipated you’d nevercommit, and this was their way of ensuring you’d actually settle down one day.”
A humorless chuckle escapes me. “Fantastic. Now my entire legacy—the hotel I’ve poured my life into—hinges on me producing a child.”
“That about sums it up.” He raises a finger. “And don’t forget, it has to be a legitimateheir, within the oh-so-holy confines of marriage. No knocking up a random cocktail waitress from downstairs and calling it a day.”
I snort. “A legitimate heir. All of this makes it sound like it’s the year 1825, not 2025.”
Damas chuckles. I don’t. There’s nothing funny about any of this.
I set the folder down carefully, feeling the weight of its contents and the conversation bearing down on my shoulders.
TheHospitium.
My business. My home.
From the day I learned to walk, I was toddling around its hallways, greeting guests, watching Father hold court with high rollers in the VIP lounge. I made my first business deal at nineteen years old in one of its conference rooms. It’s mine, intimately and completely. The idea of losing it makes my vision blur with anger.
Damas clears his throat. “So, what’s your plan? Getting married is a big step. Having a child is an even bigger one.”
I turn in my seat and rake a hand through my hair. “I don’t have one. I’m trying to wrap my head around all of this. I justfound out the timeline is real and that these lawyers can and will enforce it. Hell, if it comes down to it, I guess I can try to fight them in court, but that would be disrespectful to our parents.” I let out a frustrated sigh. “I can’t betray them like that.”
“Which is precisely why you need to consider other options. I’ve mentioned surrogacy.”
“Right,” I reply dryly and uninterested. “You suggested I hire a stranger to bear my child. It’s like ordering a product online.”
