The CEO and the Country Wildflower chapter 33

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The CEO and the Country Wildflower
Chapter 33: The Prodigal Son Returns


The iron gates of the York family estate loomed before them, cold and unwelcoming. Emelly tightened her grip on Lucas’s hand, feeling the tension radiating off him. His jaw was set, his shoulders rigid—every inch the formidable CEO, yet beneath it all, she sensed the wounded boy who had been cast aside years ago. “You don’t have to do this,” she murmured. Lucas exhaled sharply. “Yes, I do. Richard Brown won’t stop until he’s destroyed everything. If my father still has connections, we need them.”


The gates creaked open before they could announce themselves, as if someone had been expecting them. A butler greeted them with a polite nod, though his eyes flickered with surprise at Lucas’s presence. “Mr. York,” he said stiffly. “Your father is in the study.” The walk through the grand halls felt like a march to judgment. Portraits of stern-faced Yorks watched them pass, a silent reminder of the legacy Lucas had both inherited and rejected. Emelly squeezed his hand again, earning a sidelong glance from him.


The moment their fingers intertwined, she felt the familiar warmth, the way his migraine always seemed to dissolve in her presence. But today, even that magic couldn’t erase the storm in his eyes. The study door was ajar. Inside, Charles York stood with his back to them, gazing out the window at the sprawling gardens. He didn’t turn as they entered. “I wondered when you’d come crawling back,” Charles said, his voice rough with age but still sharp with authority. Lucas stiffened. “I’m not here for myself.


York Group is under attack.” That made Charles turn. His gaze swept over Lucas before landing on Emelly, lingering with a mix of curiosity and disdain. “And who is this?” “Emelly Clus,” she answered before Lucas could, lifting her chin. “The woman who’s been cleaning up the messes your son refuses to admit he’s made.” A beat of silence. Then, to her surprise, Charles let out a dry chuckle. “Brave words for someone standing in my house.” Lucas stepped forward, cutting off whatever retort Emelly had ready. “We don’t have time for games. Richard Brown is exploiting a hidden clause in the merger terms. If we don’t stop him, he’ll seize control of York’s patents.” Charles’s amusement faded. He moved to his desk, pulling out a file. “I warned you about him years ago. You were too arrogant to listen.” “And you were too busy disowning me to care,” Lucas shot back. The air between them crackled with decades of resentment. Emelly cleared her throat. “Look, we can either rehash old wounds or figure out how to save the company. Your choice.”


Charles studied her, then sighed. “You always did have a knack for picking stubborn women, Lucas.” Ignoring the jab, Lucas pressed, “Do you still have influence with the board?” “Some.” Charles tapped the file. “But it’ll cost you.” “How much?” “Not money.” Charles’s gaze locked onto his son’s. “A seat at the table. Permanently.” Lucas’s jaw tightened. Emelly could practically hear the internal battle—pride versus survival. Before he could answer, she interjected, “Done. But only if you help us now.” Charles raised a brow. “You speak for him?” Lucas’s hand found hers again, squeezing lightly. “She does.” A slow smirk curled Charles’s lips. “Interesting.” He picked up the phone. “Then let’s make some calls.”