My coldhearted ex demands a remarriage

Chapter 612:

Carrie hesitated for a heartbeat but followed him. Sliding into the car, she found herself suddenly aware of the quiet that settled between them. Daxton climbed in after her, shutting the door with a soft click.

For a moment, neither spoke. Finally, Daxton broke the silence.

“Carrie, did you know your grandfather is Josh Morrison?”

Her head snapped toward him, disbelief etched across her face. “Josh Morrison? Are you certain? That’s… impossible. How could my grandfather be him?” Her voice trembled slightly. Josh Morrison—the Morrison family’s piano prodigy—had died tragically young.

Daxton leaned back slightly, his gaze unwavering as he spoke. “I realized it when I attended your grandmother’s funeral. His tombstone confirmed it. Your grandfather was not just any Morrison—he was the Mr. Morrison I have been searching for all this time.”

Carrie blinked, her mind struggling to keep up with the revelation. “Josh Morrison…” she murmured, the pieces clicking together.

Suddenly, so many things made sense. Her grandmother’s deep knowledge of Josh’s compositions. The antique piano at home—its sound so rich and pure, unlike anything modern instruments could replicate. She had always thought it was just a family heirloom, nothing more.

“This,” Daxton said, pulling a yellowed photograph from his wallet, “is a picture of Mr. Morrison from his family archives.” He handed her the fragile photo, and Carrie held it with trembling hands.

Her breath caught as she studied it. The young man in the picture, barely in his teens, was undeniably her late grandfather. His features were softer, more youthful, but the resemblance to the older man in the portrait on his tombstone was unmistakable.

Daxton’s voice softened as he recounted the tale. “Mr. Morrison did not die in an accident, as the world believed. He fell in love with a girl from a small town and gave up his studies abroad, his inheritance, and even his position as heir to the Morrison family fortune to be with her. All he took was a piano, and the two of them eloped.

“His father,” Daxton continued, “was furious. In his anger, he declared his son dead to the world. But after Mr. Morrison’s father passed away, the current head of the family—your grandfather’s brother—regretted the estrangement. He asked me to find Mr. Morrison. He believed that even after all these years, Mr. Morrison’s descendants deserved to reconnect with their roots.”

Daxton placed a hand over hers, his touch firm but comforting. “You are not alone, Carrie. You have got a family—a history. And now that I have found you, I want to take you to the Morrison estate.”

Carrie stared at him, her heart racing. He had dropped everything—flown here in a private jet—all for her. And yet, there was no joy on her face, only confusion.

“Family,” Carrie murmured under her breath, the word lingering softly in the still air. She repeated it as though testing its weight on her tongue.

Her grandfather had passed away when she was too young to remember much about him. The Morrison family was a faint shadow in her life, a name she knew but had never truly connected with. He had never spoken of them.

Noticing her muted enthusiasm, Daxton’s expression softened. His tone followed suit, carrying a note of understanding. “If you are not ready, we can postpone it for now. I will let the Morrison family know. There is no rush—you will be in Isonridge for a while. We can arrange the meeting whenever you feel prepared.”

Carrie hesitated, her mind weighing his words. “It is fine,” she said after a moment, her tone resolute. “I will have to meet them eventually. Delaying it for a couple of days will not change anything.”

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