Chapter 3 Alexander Blaze

Alexander hated being summoned. Especially by his father.

He stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows of his corner office, one hand casually tucked into his pocket, holding his phone to his ear with the other. Below him, the city stretched toward the horizon, a crawling web of morning traffic and glass facades catching the early sunlight.

From this height, everything appeared orderly. Predictable. Almost peaceful.

Alexander knew better.

"Your father has been asking for you since seven," his assistant reminded him over the line.

Alexander closed his eyes briefly, exhaling a quiet sigh. "And you're only telling me now?"

"I told you forty minutes ago, sir."

"Then why repeat yourself?"

"Because you ignored me the first time."

A faint, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of Alexander's mouth. "You're getting brave, Daniel."

"I'm getting tired, sir."

Alexander chuckled softly and ended the call, slipping the phone into his jacket pocket before turning toward his desk.

Blaze Logistics & Transport occupied three full floors of one of the city's premier commercial towers. From freight forwarding and warehousing to international supply chains, the company had expanded aggressively under his direction.

It was his achievement. His responsibility. And, above all, his proof that he could succeed without riding on his father's coattails.

At twenty-six, Alexander had zero patience for those who assumed his life had been served on a silver platter. They saw the tailored suits, the pristine office, and the surname that forced doors open-they rarely saw the relentless grit behind it. He had spent years forging supplier networks, negotiating razor-thin margins, managing difficult clients, and making call decisions that could cost millions if he miscalculated.

He had made mistakes, learned from them, and earned every win. He had no intention of letting anyone frame his success as a mere inheritance waiting to happen.

His phone vibrated against his desk. The name flashing on the screen hardened his expression instantly.

Father.

Alexander tapped the screen and brought the phone to his ear. "Good morning."

"Where are you?"

"My office."

"And why aren't you here?"

Alexander glanced at the heavy brass clock on his desk. "Because I have a company to run."

A heavy silence stretched across the line. "You have obligations beyond that company, Alexander."

Leaning back against the edge of his desk, Alexander muttered, "Here we go."

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

His father's voice dropped an octave, cold and unyielding. "I expect you at the house in thirty minutes."

"I have a meeting."

"Cancel it."

"No."

The silence that followed was heavier than the demand. Few people spoke to Marcus Blaze in that tone. Fewer still survived the fallout without regretting it.

Alexander had learned early that his father was a man who demanded absolute obedience. He expected compliance, not debate. Unfortunately for Marcus, Alexander had inherited every drop of his stubbornness.

"You seem to have forgotten who you are," his father said quietly.

"I know exactly who I am."

"Then remember the family you belong to."

Alexander's jaw tightened. There it was. The conversation never stayed on business for long; it always veered back to the same obsession: the legacy, the family, and the future his father had mapped out for him. A future Alexander had never asked for.

"I'll come by when my schedule clears," Alexander said smoothly.

Before his father could answer, Alexander cut the call.

He stared at the black screen for a long moment before setting it facedown on the wood. "Damn it."

A crisp knock sounded at the door. "Come in."

Daniel stepped inside, a digital tablet balanced in one hand. "Your ten o'clock has arrived early."

"Who is it?"

"The representatives from the international freight group we discussed yesterday."

Alexander adjusted his posture, his business instincts taking over. "Already?"

"They claim the matter is urgent."

"They always do." Alexander straightened his cuffs and held out a hand for the digital folder Daniel passed him. "Let's see what they're offering."

For the next hour, Alexander shut out his personal life entirely. The representatives wanted access to his distribution network for a massive overseas shipment. While the potential volume was lucrative, their proposed terms heavily favored their own margins while pushing most of the liability onto Blaze Logistics.

Alexander sat quietly through their presentation, taking notes and scrutinizing their projections. When they finally tried to pressure him into signing an immediate letter of intent, he closed the tablet with a quiet snap.

"I'm not signing this."

The lead representative frowned, adjusting his tie. "Mr. Blaze, surely we can adjust the secondary figures-"

"Adjust them all you like," Alexander interrupted calmly. "The risk distribution doesn't work for my firm. I don't absorb liability for cargo I don't control."

"We were hoping to finalize the framework today."

"Then you should have brought a serious proposal."

The men exchanged tight, uncomfortable glances. Alexander stood, extending his hand with crisp professionalism. "Send me a revised draft. If it makes business sense, we'll talk."

They departed with polite, strained smiles. Daniel waited until the door latched shut before shaking his head. "You could have let them down a bit easier."

Alexander walked back to his chair. "I was perfectly reasonable."

"You practically ushered them into the elevator with their proposals tucked under their arms."

"At least they left with their proposals intact."

Daniel sighed softly. "Sometimes I wonder how we keep clients."

"Because I know what I'm doing," Alexander replied, looking up. "And I look good in a suit."

Daniel let out a quiet laugh, briefly cutting through the tension in the room.

Then, Alexander's phone lit up with a text alert.

«Father: We need to discuss your future. Do not make me ask twice.»

The light mood evaporated instantly. Alexander flipped the phone back over, turning toward the window once more.

His future. As if it were a piece of real estate his father owned. As if years of sweat equity meant nothing compared to the shadow of the Blaze name.

He had built Blaze Logistics to create something clean, legitimate, and entirely his own-a shield against the darker side of his family's empire. But deep down, he knew the truth: you couldn't completely wash away a name like Blaze.

His father's reach went far beyond corporate boardrooms. The legitimate enterprises were merely the polished surface; beneath them lay an underworld built on absolute loyalty, fear, and debts that couldn't be settled with bank transfers. Alexander had grown up in that shadow, well aware of what happened to those who tried to cross it.

He wanted no part of that life. But wanting out didn't mean he could simply walk away cleanly.

The office door opened abruptly. Daniel stood in the doorway, the easy humor gone from his face, replaced by a rigid seriousness.

"Your father is here."

Alexander turned slowly, his eyebrows pulling together. "What?"

"He's downstairs. Heading up in the private elevator."

A short, humorless laugh escaped Alexander's chest. "Of course he is."

He straightened his tailored suit jacket, settling his shoulders. For all his independence, there were still moments when he felt less like a CEO and more like a son being called to account.

He walked toward the door to face his father. Marcus Blaze could demand whatever he wanted, but Alexander was determined to make one thing clear: he had built his own empire, he had his own rules, and he would not hand over his life just because someone else had decided how it should end.

Not even his father.