The Flower That Grew from Ashes novel Chapter 48

Weekend.

The autumn rain that had been falling for days finally stopped. The sky was washed clean and bright, and sunlight pierced through the clouds, gilding the glass tiles of the Lehman Estate with a radiant trim.

Barnum Lehman, the elusive patriarch of the family, uncharacteristically skipped going into the office today and stayed home the entire day.

In the morning, while Annelise was strolling through the gardens with Lizzie, she noticed Barnum and Felix, the head butler, playing chess all morning in the first-floor lounge.

After lunch, Annelise was reading in her room when a knock came at the door.

It was Felix.

Dressed in a sharply ironed black butler's suit, he stood at the door, bowing slightly. His posture was respectful, yet his eyes carried an unquestionable authority.

"Madam, the master has requested your presence in the lounge for a drink."

Annelise's heart gave a slight jolt.

In the Lehman family, being summoned by Barnum for a drink usually meant one thing. It was time to talk business.

"Alright, Felix. I'll be right down."

She closed her book and selected the most modest, elegant beige long dress from her closet.

Barnum pushed a delicate cup toward Annelise with unhurried movements. "Try this. It's a rare vintage blend from this year."

Annelise picked up the cup and took a small sip without speaking. She knew this was just the prelude.

Sure enough, Barnum set down the teapot, lifted his eyes, and stared at her with a burning gaze, cutting straight to the chase. "Annelise, have you thought about the shares?"

Annelise placed the cup back on the table, raising her eyes to meet Barnum's gaze without an ounce of subservience. Her voice was light, but every word was crystal clear. "That thirty percent stake is the only inheritance my father left me. His will clearly states that these shares must be held by me personally and can never be transferred. If I sign that transfer agreement, I'd be betraying my father's dying wish. It would be entirely disrespectful."

She knew that for a traditional businessman like Barnum, who placed extreme value on 'rules' and 'reputation,' invoking concepts like 'dying wishes' and 'filial duty' carried far more weight than simply crying or flatly refusing.

Barnum's face betrayed no emotion. He merely remained silent, rubbing his thumb against his teacup. The atmosphere in the lounge instantly turned stifling.