The Abandoned Groom Married his Ex's Enemy!

The ride to the river took longer than Alexander remembered.

Or perhaps everything had simply seemed closer when they were children.

They followed the old path past the eastern pasture, where the grass grew higher, and the trees gradually thickened.

Giovanni rode beside him.

No security.

No assistants.

No schedules.

Just two men on horseback carrying bread, apples, and a bottle of water because Rosalie remained convinced adulthood offered no protection against hunger.

”You remember the shortcut?” Alex asked.

Giovanni looked ahead.

”Through those trees.”

”That wasn’t a shortcut.”

”It was.”

”We got lost.”

”You got lost.”

”We were together.”

”You followed me.”

”Exactly. Therefore, you got us lost.”

Giovanni smiled.

”Dominic blamed both of us.”

Alexander’s expression shifted slightly.

Then he smiled too.

”He went back and told everyone the river moved.”

”That was his defense?”

”He was committed.”

They laughed.

The memory carried no sting.

Dominic had been part of those days.

They didn’t need to erase him to enjoy remembering them.

At the river bend, they dismounted and allowed the horses to drink.

The water looked narrower than either remembered.

Still clear.

Still moving steadily around the old rocks.

Giovanni stood near the bank.

”We really swam here.”

”Naked.”

Giovanni looked toward him.

”That part didn’t need saying.”

”It absolutely did.”

”We were idiots.”

”We were children.”

”Same thing.”

”The most idiotic thing we did was having our circumcision here instead of at a clinic.” Alexander removed his shoes and socks.

”Yeah, thank Patrick for that.” Giovanni stared.

”What are you doing?”

”Feet only.”

”Good clarification. I thought we were swimming.”

”I won’t stop you if you do want to swim.”

”Next time, if I’m wearing boxer shorts.”

They sat near the edge, trousers rolled slightly, feet in the cool water.

The horses grazed nearby.

For several minutes, neither spoke.

Alexander opened the bag.

”Apple?”

Giovanni took one.

”I thought your mother packed bread too.”

”She did.”

”Then why offer the apple first?”

”Health.”

”You stole potatoes at the reunion.”

”That was social eating.”

Giovanni laughed. He reached for the bottle of water and poured it into the plastic glasses.

Alex bit into his apple.

Neither of them could do this easily in the city.

Sit.

Do nothing useful.

No one asking for signatures.

No phone ringing every few minutes. Apparently, the area had no coverage.

No reason to look at their watches.

Alexander leaned back on one hand.

”I should finish my master’s.”

Giovanni looked over.

”You haven’t?”

”Few units left.”

”I thought you did.”

”No.”

”Why stop?”

”Work.”

”That sounds suspiciously like an excuse.”

”It was.”

Giovanni nodded.

”Finish it.”

Alex looked at him.

”That’s your advice?”

”Yes.”

”Very profound.”

”You already know what you want.”

”That doesn’t make scheduling easier.”

”Neither does waiting five more years.”

Alexander considered that.

Giovanni had completed his graduate degree before formally taking over Mercer Group.

Different circumstances.

Different timing.

Still.

”I’ll look at the requirements.”

”Good.”

”You’re annoyingly supportive.”

”Would you prefer discouragement?”

”Occasionally.”

”I’ll schedule it.”

Alex smiled.

After another moment, he said, ”Grandfather’s trust releases the remaining assets when I turn forty.”

Giovanni’s attention shifted.

”All of them?”

”The remaining family shares and several personal assets under the trust.”

”And then?”

”Mine.”

”No marriage condition past the age?”

”No.”

That had taken lawyers enough time to establish after the failed arrangement with Dominic.

The original provisions had included safeguards, timing conditions, and contingencies, but ultimately the assets wouldn’t remain suspended indefinitely simply because Augustus’s preferred marriage never happened.

At forty, Alexander would control them outright.

Giovanni looked toward the river.

”What are you going to do?”

”I don’t know.”

”Keep the shares?”

”Probably some.”

”Sell?”

”Maybe.”

”Start something?”

Alexander glanced at him.

”That’s the question.”

Giovanni took another bite of the apple.

”You don’t need another company.”

”I know.”

”Then why start one?”

”Because I might want something that’s mine.”

Giovanni understood immediately.

Vance Holdings belonged to Alexander in one sense.

He ran it.

Led it.

Protected it.

But it had existed before him.

Augustus.

Alejandro.

Generations of expectations.

A business inherited with responsibility attached.

Giovanni had Mercer Group too.

But Ysabella’s and Matteo’s were different.

They were personal.

Built from memory rather than obligation.

”What would you do?” Alex asked.

”If I were you?”

”Yes.”

”Nothing for at least six months.”

Alexander frowned.

”That’s boring.”

”Exactly.”

”Why?”

”Because forty-year-old Alexander might want something completely different from current Alexander.”

”Current Alexander finds that insulting.”

”He’ll survive.”

Alex looked toward the water. He watched the ripple after he threw a small pebble.

”What kind of business would fit me?”

Giovanni considered it seriously.

Not construction.

Alex already had enough of that world.

Food was possible, but Rosalie’s project might satisfy that interest without Alexander needing to own another restaurant.

Then he remembered.

”Sculpture.”

Alex looked over.

”No.”

”Why not?”

”Because that isn’t a business.”

”It can be.”

”I sculpted when I was younger.”

”You were good.”

”You remember?”

Giovanni gave him a look.

”Unfortunately.”

”What does that mean?”

”You corrected my carving once for forty minutes.”

”It needed help.”

”It needed mercy.”

Alexander laughed.

Giovanni continued.

”A studio. Gallery. Commissioned pieces. Maybe classes.”

”Me teaching?”

”Why not?”

”Because I run Vance Holdings.”

”People are allowed more than one skill.”

Alex looked thoughtful.

”That’s not terrible.”

”I’ll treasure that compliment.”

Another possibility followed.

”Restoration.”

”What?”

”Old furniture. Woodwork. Sculptures. Heritage pieces.”

Alexander’s expression shifted.

That fit differently.

The ancestral home itself carried generations of objects worth preserving.

He liked craftsmanship.

Patience.

Things made slowly enough to last.

”A restoration studio,” Alex said.

”Could include commissions.”

”Small.”

”Better.”

”Not some giant business.”

”Exactly.”

Alexander stared toward the water.

”I like that.”

Giovanni smiled.

”I know.”

Alex looked at him.

”That’s becoming an irritating phrase.”

”Your father says it too.”

”Apparently everyone knows me better than I do.”

”Sometimes.”

The river moved quietly around their feet.

And for the first time, the idea of turning forty didn’t feel like receiving another inheritance from a dead man.

It felt like receiving a choice.

He can even start earlier.