C10 Grandfather’s Approval

Daniel drove through the quiet, tree-lined suburbs toward the facility again on Saturday morning, but this time, he wasn't alone.

He hadn't formally asked Sephora to join him, nor had he scheduled it on her calendar. He had simply pulled his midnight-black sports car up to the curb outside her modest apartment building at 9:00 AM, rolled down the window, and offered a terse, two-word command: "Get in." No long explanation. No corporate protocol. No apology for the sudden invasion of her weekend or her personal space.

And Sephora had gone with him. Of course she had.

The drive had been mostly silent, filled only with the low hum of the engine and an unspoken tension that hovered in the small space between them. When they arrived at the facility and walked down the quiet, sterile hallway toward the garden room, Sephora felt her pulse quicken.

Edward Mallik was sitting near the large glass bay windows, draped in his usual plaid blanket. But the moment Daniel stepped into the sunlight with Sephora standing right beside him, a startling transformation came over the old man’s face.

The soft, frail expression he usually wore instantly vanished. His faded eyes snapped sharp, bright, and intensely calculated. For three terrifying seconds, he looked precisely like the billionaire grandson standing next to him—ruthless, assessing, brilliant, and completely unbothered by politeness.

"Grandfather," Daniel said, his voice dropping into a rare, quiet warmth as he stepped closer. "This is Sephora. My assistant."

"His assistant?" Grandfather repeated, a slow, deeply knowing smile spreading across his weathered features. "How very interesting. So you're the one he's been calling 'Simons'?"

"That's me, Mr. Mallik," Sephora said, stepping forward with an easy, natural grace and extending her hand.

Edward reached out and took it. His grip was surprisingly firm despite his failing body, and he held her hand a beat longer than necessary, his sharp eyes scanning her face, taking in her steady posture, her warm dark eyes, and the quiet strength she carried herself with.

"She's got spirit, Danny," Grandfather observed, turning his sharp gaze back to his grandson without letting go of her hand. "I can see it instantly. Look at the way she stands right beside you—she's not the least bit intimidated by you."

"No one intimidates her," Daniel said smoothly.

Sephora glanced sideways at him, her heart skipping a beat. There was something buried deep in his tone—a subtle, heavy thread of quiet pride and fierce affection. They were emotions he systematically hid from the rest of the world, feelings he never expressed about anyone else in his billion-dollar orbit.

They spent the entire afternoon together in the sunlit garden room. Sephora sat across from the old man, completely mesmerized as he shared stories about Daniel’s childhood. He talked about how terrifyingly ambitious Daniel had been even as a young boy, how stubbornly ruthless he was when he set his mind to a task, and, beneath it all, how painfully lonely he had been growing up inside a vast corporate dynasty.

As the stories unfolded, Sephora watched Daniel closely. Sitting beside his grandfather, the icy, unyielding CEO completely melted away. She watched his severe features soften, his dark eyes filled with a raw, fierce devotion as he held the old man’s trembling hand—gripping it tightly, as if terrified that if he dared to let go, his grandfather would simply fade into thin air.

When it was finally time for them to leave, Grandfather subtly gestured for Daniel to step closer, pulling him aside near the door while Sephora gathered her coat.

"Don't you dare let her go, Danny," the old man whispered, his paper-thin voice raspy yet vibrating with absolute certainty. "I can see it, boy. I see how she looks at you when she thinks you aren't paying attention. And I see how you look at her when you think no one is watching. That is love, Danny. Real, unvarnished love. Not the empire-building kind. The kind that actually matters when the lights go down."

"Grandfather, please—"

"Promise me," Edward demanded, his fingers digging into Daniel's forearm with surprising strength, his dark eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Before I'm gone... promise me you'll stop hiding behind your armor and let yourself have this."

Daniel stood frozen, looking down at the dying man who had raised him. "I promise," he whispered softly.

He made the promise because he simply couldn't bear to deny a dying man his final wish. But deep down, as his cold, logical mind resumed control, Daniel knew it was a promise he could never truly keep. Allowing himself to get close to Sephora meant opening his heart to vulnerability. Vulnerability meant weakness. And in the shark-infested waters of the global market, a single moment of weakness meant his entire multi-billion-dollar empire could crumble to pieces.

The drive back to the city was heavy with an overwhelming, suffocating silence. The sun was setting over the skyline, painting the interior of the leather-bound car in deep shades of gold and shadow.

Sephora stared out the passenger window, watching the city lights begin to flicker on, one by one.

"He's dying," she said quietly, her soft voice cutting through the hum of the engine.

Daniel kept his eyes fixed strictly on the road ahead. "Yes."

"And he just wants to see you happy before he goes," she added, turning her head to look at his sharp, rigid profile.

"That's his issue, not mine," Daniel snapped, his voice tight, defensive, and cold.

Yet, even as the harsh words left his mouth, Sephora looked down at his hands. His knuckles were clamped onto the leather steering wheel so violently that they were completely white, his whole frame vibrating with suppressed grief and terror.

Sephora didn't push him. She didn't call out the lie, nor did she try to break down his sudden wall. She simply leaned back into her leather seat, looking out at the glittering skyline, a heavy, somber realization settling over her heart.

The stakes had completely changed.

Edward Mallik was running out of time. And somehow, that tragic ticking clock made every lingering look, every accidental touch, and every unspoken emotion between her and Daniel feel infinitely more urgent—and impossibly dangerous.