The CEO's Secret Obsession-Chapter 148: "She is perfect exactly the way she is,"

[Carter Mansion]

Patricia stormed into the living room like a thundercloud.

"I swear to God," she announced, dropping her bag on the couch, "if one more rich family tries to fix me, I am committing a felony."

Evelyn looked up instantly. "Patricia, what happened?"

Melissa, who had been sorting flowers at the table, frowned. "Fix you how?"

Patricia opened her mouth—then noticed Ursula seated by the window, calmly sipping tea.

She stopped short.

"Hi, Grandma Ursula," she said, forcing a breath. "Sorry. I am in a mood."

Ursula glanced at her over the rim of her cup, eyes sharp but fond. "I can see that, darling. Sit before you combust."

Patricia collapsed onto the couch beside Evelyn with a groan.

Melissa crossed her arms. "Okay, I am clearly missing something."

Evelyn hesitated, then asked, "Is it about Lucas?"

That made Patricia sit up. "And his mother."

"Helen Hart?" Melissa blinked. "What did she do?"

Patricia dug into her bag and pulled out a neatly folded card, tossing it onto the table like evidence.

"She sent me skincare and a six-month Pilates subscription."

Melissa stared. "Why?"

Patricia laughed bitterly. "Exactly." She took out the note his mother had sent her and handed it to Evelyn.

Evelyn picked up the card, read it, then winced. "Oh that’s not subtle." Before passing it to Melissa.

"No," Patricia snapped. "It’s passive-aggressive body shaming wrapped in beige stationery."

"This sounds like something Helen Hart would say." Melissa looked between them. "But how does his mother even know you?"

Evelyn sighed. "Lucas introduced Patricia as his girlfriend at the mall."

Patricia shot her a look. "Temporarily and without consent."

Melissa’s eyes widened. "He did what? But why?"

Ursula set her cup down slowly.

"Ah," she said. "Now that makes sense."

Patricia turned toward her. "You know the Hart family, don’t you?"

Ursula nodded once. "Unfortunately."

Evelyn leaned forward. "Grandma knows everyone 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

"Then please tell us what her problem is," Patricia sighed.

Ursula folded her hands in her lap. "The Harts are particular with old money and old standards. They don’t believe people grow into roles, they believe people are screened for them."

Patricia scoffed. "So I failed the audition I didn’t even sign up for?"

"You weren’t auditioning," Ursula replied calmly. "But Helen Hart believes every woman near her son is."

Evelyn frowned. "But Lucas isn’t even that close to his family. That’s what Alexander told me."

"Exactly," Ursula said. "That’s the problem."

She continued gently, "Lucas walked away from the Hart legacy and built his own life. But families like theirs don’t forgive that, they wait."

Patricia crossed her arms. "Wait for what?"

"For him to return," Ursula said. "Or for leverage."

Melissa muttered, "That’s unsettling."

Ursula nodded. "Helen Hart is preparing for a future she assumes is inevitable. And she is making sure any woman near her son fits the standards she decided on."

Patricia’s voice hardened. "I am not his girlfriend and I am definitely not his future wife."

Ursula looked at her steadily. "Then make sure he understands that as clearly as you do."

"Well—" When Patricia looked at her, Evelyn shrugged, "You can’t be so sure about that."

"What—"

"I mean, maybe in the future something might happen."

Patricia exhaled sharply. "Over my dead body and I clearly told him I want no part of this."

Ursula smiled faintly. "Very good because the moment you stay silent, women like Helen Hart start rewriting your role for you."

Patricia slumped back. "I just wanted a free sandwich and coffee, not generational trauma."

Melissa laughed despite herself.

Ursula chuckled softly. "Welcome to powerful families, dear. They never start with war, they start with gifts."

Patricia groaned. "If she sends me one more thing, I will mail her a treadmill with my autograph."

Ursula’s eyes sparkled. "Now that would be memorable."

And for the first time since leaving Lucas’s office, Patricia felt less furious and far more grounded.

.....

[Hart Mansion — Evening]

The Hart mansion hadn’t changed.

Same polished floors, same suffocating silence and the same feeling of being inspected the moment you walked in.

Lucas stood in the center of the formal sitting room with his hands shoved into his pockets and his jaw tight.

Helen Hart sat on the sofa, perfectly composed with her legs crossed and a porcelain cup balanced delicately in her hand.

She looked up at him like he was late for a meeting she had scheduled years ago.

"You are home," she said. "I wasn’t expecting you tonight."

"That’s because I didn’t come to visit," Lucas replied flatly. "I came to talk."

Her brow lifted slightly. "About?"

"Patricia Wu."

That did it.

Helen set her cup down slowly, carefully, like she didn’t want to spill anything—including her disdain.

"Oh," she said. "Her."

Lucas took a step forward. "You need to stop contacting her and no sending gifts or whatever that was."

Helen waved a hand dismissively. "Relax. I was only being considerate."

"That wasn’t considerate," Lucas snapped. "That was invasive and she isn’t even my girlfriend. I just made that up so you would stop bugging me."

She tilted her head, studying him. "Then I am relieved."

He frowned. "Relieved about what?"

"That you have finally clarified she isn’t your girlfriend," Helen said calmly. "Because frankly, she would never fit into this family."

Silence fell heavy between them.

Lucas laughed once, sharp and humorless. "Excuse me?"

"The Wu family may be wealthy," Helen continued, unfazed, "but wealth alone doesn’t make someone suitable. Their social standing is adequate at best."

Lucas’ hands curled into fists.

"And besides," she added, eyes narrowing slightly, "she lacks refinement."

"That’s your problem?" he demanded. "Refinement?"

Helen leaned back. "It’s more than that. She doesn’t have the right features."

Lucas stiffened. "What features?"

Helen sighed, like she was explaining something obvious. "Her nose, for one. Not auspicious and not balanced. I was already speaking to a few surgeons who—"

"Enough."

His voice cracked through the room like a whip.

Helen froze.

Lucas stepped closer, eyes blazing. "There is nothing wrong with her nose or her hands, her body or the way she exists."

Helen stared at him, stunned by the fury she rarely saw directed at her.

"She is perfect exactly the way she is," he continued, voice shaking now. "And the fact that you would sit there and dissect a woman like she is a project disgusts me."

"Lucas," a deep voice cut in.

Mr. Hart had entered silently, his presence filling the room without effort.

"That’s enough," he said calmly, though his eyes were hard. "Lower your voice."

Lucas turned toward his father. "She crossed a line."

"Crossed a line?" Helen scoffed. "I am protecting this family."

"No," Lucas shot back. "You are controlling it."

Mr. Hart studied him for a long moment. "You left to build your own life and we allowed that."

"Allowed?" Lucas laughed bitterly.

"And now," his father continued evenly, "it’s time you come back."

The words landed heavy.

Lucas’ chest rose and fell slowly. "I know."

Helen’s eyes sharpened. "Then stop acting like this."

Lucas shook his head. "Not like this and definitely not now."

Mr. Hart frowned. "You don’t get to decide the timing forever."

Lucas picked up his jacket from the chair. "I am not deciding forever, I am deciding now."

He turned back to Helen, voice deadly calm. "You will leave Patricia Wu alone. If you contact her again, we are done. Completely."

Helen’s lips tightened. "You are choosing a woman over your family?"

"I am choosing basic decency," he replied. "You should try it."

Without another word, Lucas turned and walked out.

The heavy doors closed behind him with a final echo.

Helen sat rigid, stunned.

Mr. Hart exhaled slowly. "You pushed too hard."

Her jaw clenched. "He will come back."

"Yes," he agreed quietly. "But not the way you planned."

And for the first time in a very long time, Helen Hart realized she might have lost control of the one thing she thought would never slip from her grasp.

Her only son.

....