Chapter 215: Not Exactly A Wallflower Anymore
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So I did. Article after article painted a picture of the Seymour family in broad, wealthy strokes. Italian immigrants in the 1930s who had turned a small car repair shop into a dealership empire—eight locations nationwide, with a ninth in the works.
Hundreds of millions in net worth, private schools, charity events, the whole bit. And Ethan, sweet, down-to-earth Ethan was the heir to it all, the oldest son of William Seymour, the current yet absent CEO.
I already knew he was rich. Everyone knew the Seymours were loaded. But seeing it all laid out like this, family photos from society pages, Ethan in a tux at some fundraiser when he was fourteen, smiling politely beside his parents made it hit different.
He’d always seemed so normal to me. The guy who split fries at the diner, sent me goofy memes, and held my hand like it was the most natural thing ever.
Then I clicked on an article from seven years ago: "Seymour Brothers Announce Leadership Transition."
William Seymour, Ethan’s dad, was taking a year-long "sabbatical" in Monaco with his wife. He was handing over daily control of the empire to his younger brother, Logan Seymour.
Huh, Logan Seymour.
I froze, a slow grin spreading across my face. Turning the laptop toward Adrien felt like unveiling a treasure.
"Still think I’m crazy now?"
He leaned in, eyes scanning the screen, and let out a low whistle. "Well, damn."
Then he reached over and ruffled my hair like I was a golden retriever who’d fetched the newspaper. "Never said you were crazy. Just mildly, fucking delusional sometimes."
