Chapter 53


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    One


    Honor thy mother and father.


    Grayson Chandler smothered a sigh. With all due respect to Moses, but if he’d been stuck listening to


    Grayson’s mother nag on and on and about hisck of duty, loyalty and wife, the prophet might’ve


    asked God to nail down the specifics on thatmandment.


    Swearing. Out.


    Muzzling. Out.


    Faking a coronary episode to avoid herining. Gray area.


    For a moment, a flicker of guilt wavered in Grayson’s chest. But at the moment, he was caught in his


    mother’s crosshairs. Pit bulls with lockjaw had nothing on Cherise Chandler. She didn’t let go of


    something—whether it was a project, a subject or a grudge—until she was done with it.


    Which didn’t bode well for him.


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    He was thirty years old and president of KayCee Corp, one of the most sessful global tech start-up


    companies in the country and he hadn’t been a child to be controlled long before he left his parents’


    house. For years, he’d answered only to himself, owed no one else exnations or justifications.


    Yet none of that mattered when it came to the crystal blue gaze that could make him feel like the little


    boy who’d been busted hiding a stray dog under his bed for a week.


    Hell.


    Parental guilt trips were a bitch.


    “Grayson, your stubbornness is bing ridiculous,” his mother said, a note of irritation in her voice.


    She shifted closer and a small frown marred her brow. “You’ve proven your point with this little business


    venture of yours and Gideon Knight’s. But your father needs you now, your family needs you. It’s time


    to stop ying at CEO, step up and take your ce at Chandler International. It’s your responsibility.


    Your duty.”


    He clenched his jaw, trapping the vitriolic stream of words that scalded his throat. This little business


    venture. Time to stop ying. As if striking out on his own without the emotional or financial support of


    his Chicago old-money, well-connected family was the equivalent of a rousing game of Monopoly. With


    those few words, she’d dismissed years of his and Gideon’s hard work, relentless determination and


    resulting sess.


    He should’ve been used to this casual disregard. Of his aplishments. Of him. As the second son,


    the “oops baby” of Daryl and Cherise Chandler, he’d been an afterthought from birth. But somehow, his


    skin had never grown that thick.


    Another ck mark in the “Why Grayson Isn’t Jason Chandler” Column. Right under rebellious. Selfish.


    And disloyal.


    Didn’t matter that he’d had a hand in founding a tech tform that served major businesses and


    assisted them in tracking their shares with its unrivaled software. Didn’t matter that his business was


    one of the most sessful start-ups to hit the financial scene in thest five years.


    None of it mattered because it wasn’t Chandler International.


    Dammit.


    Grayson shoved his hands in his tuxedo pockets and nced away from his mother’s scrutiny. Guilt


    and shame knotted his gut.


    He was throwing a pity party, but at least he was alive.


    Jason couldn’t say the same.


    And because his mother had lost her son—her favorite son—Grayson imprisoned the sharp retort that


    weighed down his tongue.


    “I take my position at and ownership of KayCee Corp as seriously as Dad does with Chandler. I also


    understand my obligation to our family. But as I’ve told both of you, mypany is my legacy just as


    Chandler is Dad’s.”


    “Don’t be deliberately obtuse, Grayson. It’s not the same—”


    “Mother,” he interrupted, voice cold. “Now isn’t the ce or time for this conversation.”