I TOOK off my black sunglasses as I watched the funeral happening a few meters away from us. 

"I couldn't believe that old man would die this early," Marina Rose–Sánchez muttered beside me. This middle-aged woman is my aunt, my father's twin sister. 

Just a few meters away from the old cedar tree where we were standing, a ceremony was happening—the funeral of the famous businessman Alexander Harding. 

The old man, who just died three days ago, owned one of the biggest conglomerates here in the US. 

As soon as Aunt Marina heard the news of the old man's passing, we booked a flight to New York. 

The burial of Alexander Harding was something my aunt Marina wanted to see firsthand. 

"He should have suffered a grueling death," Aunt Marina continued, her voice dripping with contempt. 

Aunt Marina hated Alexander Harding to the core. According to her, the old man was to blame for my father's early death. 

I was five years old when my father died in a car crash. But it was later found in the investigation that he purposely killed himself. 

I was raised by my mother. She had told me that dad succumbed to depression when he lost his business to a powerful tycoon. 

I was already sixteen when I found out from Aunt Marina that the business tycoon my mother was talking about was the famous Alexander Harding.  

Do I hate the old man? Yes. For a while. But then, I realized that hating him would do me nothing. My mother didn't raise me to be vengeful. 

But that's not the case with Aunt Marina. For the past years, her anger for the old man didn't subside. 

Through the years, she has been following the news about the old man. 

Last week, Aunt Marina had received the news that the great Alexander Harding was dead. The business tycoon died in his sleep—a very anticlimactic death. 

"The old man is already dead, Aunt Marina," I said, cocking my head at her. "I guess you will finally be at peace." 

My eyes went back to the funeral in front of us. Only a few people were there. It seemed like it was a private ceremony. Or maybe only a few attended. 

I heard that the old man was known for being ruthless and cruel. 

A tall man in the crowd caught my attention. He was the only one wearing dark sunglasses among the group. 

His nose was sharp and pointed, his jaw in a perfect angle. Her lips were red and shaped like a cupid's bow. As if begging to be kissed. 

The corner of my lips curled up in a satisfied smirk as I watched him run his fingers through his medium-length hair. It was as dark as the tuxedo he was wearing. 

damn He looked handsome and very fuckable. I muttered to myself. 

I wondered how he was related to the old man who died. 

"And peace?" Aunt Marina muttered in a bitter tone. I almost forgot she was beside me. "No, Olivia. I won't be at peace until I get my revenge." 

"How can you take revenge on a dead person?" I asked her, still not taking my eyes off the gorgeous man. 

"I will take revenge on the old man's only relative... his grandson."

I turned to my aunt. Her bloody red lips formed a smirk as she fixed her black wide-brimmed hat. 

"Grandson?" My brow shot up. 

"Yes. Duke Everett Harding. That man over there."

I followed Aunt Maria's eyes. She was looking at… him. That gorgeous man who caught my attention. 

"He's the only grandson and living relative of Alexander Harding."

oh So that handsome fuckable man that I was eyeing earlier was Alexander's grandson. I pursed my lips. That's too bad. 

"Now that Alexander's dead, I will take my revenge on Duke Everett Harding, Olivia." Aunt Marina turned to me. "And I'll be needing your help on this."

"You can't be serious, right?" I incredulously shook my head at Mr. Salivar, my grandfather's lawyer. 

Three days after my grandfather's funeral, Atty. Salivar, my grandfather's lawyer, talked to me to discuss the old man's last will and testament. 

No one expected my grandfather's death. Even me. The old man was still healthy as a bull. At seventy-five, he was still capable of managing the whole empire. The last time we had dinner together, he was able to finish a half-pound steak and three glasses of wine. 

I was in Italy for a business conference when I received the news of my grandfather's passing. 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Harding," Mr. Salivar answered. "But everything that's written here is absolute. Your grandfather clearly stated in his last will and testament that you needed to produce an heir fifteen months after his death before all of his assets got transferred to your name."

I couldn't help but let out a curse in front of my grandfather's lawyer. Alexander Harding was insane for making that condition. 

I needed to produce an heir in a span of fifteen months? Fucking bullshit! 

"What was he thinking? How could he fucking do this to me, his own grandson?" 

Atty. Salivar cleared his throat as he fixed the frame of his eyeglasses. 

"You see, Duke. Your grandfather just wanted you to settle down. You're his only grandson. I often heard from him that before he died, he wanted to see you settle down with your own family."

I shook my head once more. But then what Atty. Salivar just said is true. Every damn time grandfather and I had dinner together, he would always bring up the topic of him wanting a grandson. 

Well, I could understand his sentiments. I'm his only grandson. I didn't have a sibling since my parents separated early. My parents got divorced when I was five. It wasn't really surprising since they didn't really love each other. 

After their separation, my mother left the country, leaving me with the Hardings. The last time I heard, she was happily living in Australia with her new family. I had two siblings from my mother, but I never bothered to meet them. Even since she left the Harding household, she was no longer part of my life. 

I grew up under my father's wing. But when I was thirteen, he died in a car accident, leaving me with Alexander Harding, my grandfather.

"And what would happen if I didn't do whatever bullshit is written in that provision?" I asked Atty. Saliva. I picked up a bottle of brandy on my table and poured some into my glass. 

I offered the old man in front of me, but he politely refused. 

I brought the glass of alcohol to my mouth and drank it. I needed alcohol to calm my nerves. 

Damn! I had already been appointed as the new CEO of the Harding Group of Companies. I had spent years proving to everyone that I'm worthy to be his successor, and then this?! 

Everything I worked hard for might just go down the fucking drain, just because of his fucking provision? 

"Since you're only his legal heir, all of his remaining assets will go to the charity," Atty. Salivar stated. "All of your grandfather's business, all of his properties, including this mansion, and all the money in the bank under his name. Everything will be stripped off you, Duke. Including the Harding name."

"I can't fucking believe him!" I angrily muttered as I slammed the glass of brandy on the bar counter.