In the dimly lit hallway, Mr. Henry Grant, the visionary founder and driving force behind 'Architectural Excellence' a renowned architecture firm that transcends conventional boundaries, stood with an air of quiet authority.
His strong shoulders pushed against the fabric of his perfectly fitted charcoal suit a suit that hinted at important business meetings, stock markets, and high-stakes deals.
The silk tie, neatly knotted at his neck, displayed the discreet symbol of his achievements a subtle acknowledgment of the intricate world of commerce he had conquered.
As Sophie approached, her father's calm expression wavered. The stern mask softened, revealing vulnerability.
For all his business acumen, Mr. Grant was a father first—a role that often eluded him due to his demanding schedule. Regular meetings with Sophie were rare.
"Sophie" he murmured, his voice betraying the businessman within. It cracked, revealing the raw emotion he rarely allowed himself.
Sophie almost ran to him, and embraced him. Sophie's embrace was warm, familiar a cocoon of love. "Dad," she uttered, her voice adorable.
Mr. Grant hugged his daughter, his rough hands gentle against her back, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
James watched, a silent observer. He saw the successful businessman's exterior crumble, revealing a longing a deep desire for stolen moments with his daughter.
Mr. Grant stood there, completely unaware of James's presence. On the other side, James shifted uneasily, conscious of how to approach such a prominent businessman.
After a while, Mr. Grant's attention shifted, and he noticed James standing nearby.
His gaze shifted between James and Sophie, connecting the dots.
Meanwhile, Sophie's mind raced, she needed to bridge this gap, and introduce her father to her new friend.
"Dad," Sophie said, her voice tinged with excitement, "meet James. My new friend."
"Hello, gentlemen," Mr. Grant said, extending his hand for a handshake. James accepted the gesture by saying "hello", his grip firm and respectful. He offered a slight bow, a nod that transcended mere formality.
"You're special to me, because it's very rare that my daughter makes friends,"
Mr. Grant said, his hand gently tapping James's shoulder.
His eyes held a mixture of warmth and curiosity, as if assessing this new addition to Sophie's life.
"As soon as my plans got postponed," he continued, "I rushed home to meet Sophie. I'm glad you're here to join us." His embrace tightened around Sophie, a silent affirmation of their bond, a father's protective love.
"Nice to meet you, Sir," James said, his tone respectful.
The room settled into a comfortable stillness as they all took their seats on the plush sofa, positioned in the center of the hallway.
Brenda, glided in with a tray of steaming coffee cups. The aroma enveloped the room.
Mr. Grant leaned forward, his eyes narrowing with curiosity. "And what line of work are you in, James?" he inquired.
James shifted slightly, aware of the weight of this moment. "I'm an investment analyst," he replied, choosing his words carefully.
"I specialize in assessing market trends, risk management, and optimizing portfolios."
The conversation flowed from there, small talk about market volatility, the art of running a successful business, and the delicate balance between risk and reward.
Mr. Grant's questions were incisive, revealing a mind that had navigated financial landscapes with precision.
Sophie's gaze remained fixed on her father as he spoke.
His words were measured, each syllable carrying a weight that demanded attention.
Sophie had always admired his resilience, watching him, she understood that sometimes, it was not the volume of words that mattered, but the depth of character behind them.
Sophie's parents, individually perfect, carried their own strengths and flaws. But when they came together, their union was a collision of worlds.
Their differences, once endearing, now seemed insurmountable. "I wish everything could be simpler between Mom and Dad," she whispered into the stillness.
Midway through her father's conversation with James, Sophie couldn't contain her excitement. She interjected, her voice bubbling over with enthusiasm, "Dad, guess what? Yesterday, Mom and I had brunch together!"
As soon as Mr. Grant's ears caught the mention of Margaret, his expression shifted.
Her brows knitted and a shadow passed over his face. He uttered, "Don't talk about her"
"Dad!!!" Sophie's voice rang out, the urgency in it impossible to ignore. "You both can't always act like this," she continued, her frustration bubbling over. "Show some affection towards each other." Her expression held a blend of frustration and concern.
Mr. Grant dismissed her words, speaking in a rough, gravelly voice : "Nowadays, your mother is consumed by that so-called 'Tech Geek.' Her news articles overflow with his praise, a misplaced devotion that blinds her to reality."
His frustration seeped through each syllable. "She once championed herself as a true journalist, but now? Now she supports a rule breaker, a man who dances on the edge of legality."
Sophie's voice held a hint of defiance as she retorted, "Common, Dad, it's her job."
Mr. Grant's response was swift, his tone unyielding. "It's not her job to patronize criminals," he declared.
His words hung heavy in the room, a clash of principles.
He pressed on, his conviction unwavering. "Kidnapping people, forcing confessions these are criminal behaviors," he insisted.
Sophie: "Yes, We can't change society by promoting such actions."
Mr. Grant's gaze shifted to James, seeking an ally. "What's your opinion, James?" he asked, his voice firm, waiting for a perspective.
James paused, father and daughter fixed their gaze on him, awaiting his response.
"Sophie and I have already discussed this," James began, his voice steady. "Our society does need change, but we must adhere to the law. Mister V's methods of bending rules, pushing boundaries—may be well-intentioned, but they risk setting a dangerous precedent. I find myself agreeing with you, sir." His calm demeanor held a hint of conviction, a delicate balance between idealism and pragmatism.
Sophie's authoritative voice cut through the tension. "Even I agreed to this, but Dad, you know Mom. She's a bit rebellious. You should keep your cool and engage in a spirited debate with her. Eventually, she'll come around."
Before Mr. Grant could respond, Sophie pressed on. "Let's not discuss that masked person anymore," she declared, her frustration palpable. "Talk about something else....Dad, tell me about your recent visit to Dubai."
Mr. Grant's serious expression melted away, replaced by a gentle warmth. His eyes crinkled at the corners, and a smile, a rare sight graced his lips.
Sophie and James leaned in, captivated by his tales of the Dubai business trip. The room hummed with shared laughter, a lively exchange of words and banter.
....
As Mr. Grant took his leave, he turned to James with a parting directive: "Keep coming by, and keep my daughter company." With that, he exited, leaving Sophie and James in their own private sphere—where they both grappled with the thought of Gabriel—an elusive figure who had shadowed their mind.