ALEX'S POINT OF VIEW
Dinner at the Reyes mansion always felt like an elaborate performance, rich food artfully plated, the finest china arranged with precision, and an oppressive silence that enveloped us like a thick fog. I was accustomed to it; my parents filled the air with words only when they carried weight.
Tonight, however, their words were poised to make an impact.
Before the first course had even settled on the table, my father launched into his agenda.
"Alexander, it's time you seriously consider marriage," he announced, his voice as calm as the perfectly chilled wine in front of me.
I didn't bother looking up, keeping my gaze fixed on the ornate tablecloth. "Why?"
"Because of the merger with Aurion Industries," he replied plainly. "Stability is essential. A married CEO sends the right message."
Finally, I lifted my eyes to meet his. "So this monumental merger hinges on my personal life?"
My mother tapped her fork lightly against her plate, her expression disapproving. "You're thirty-two, Alexander. Most men your age are already fathers."
"Most men your age," I shot back defiantly, "aren't me."
My father's steely gaze didn't waver. "You want this deal. We want an heir. This is mutually beneficial."
That's when the truth hit me, they weren't merely suggesting, they were making demands.
I set my glass down with a soft clink and stood. "Fine," I said, squaring my shoulders. "I'll find a wife."
My mother's voice quivered with concern. "Alexander…"
I pressed on, cutting her off. "But don't expect children from us," I added coolly before striding out of the dining room, their stunned silence echoing in my ears.
I climbed the marble stairs two at a time, already dialing my assistant Henry as I reached my office.
"Sir?" he answered, urgency lacing his tone.
"Find me a wife," I commanded. "As soon as possible."
After a moment of silence, he hesitated. "Sir… are you serious?"
I ended the call, my resolve unshaken. I always was.
By morning, my desk was cluttered with meetings and reports, but none captured my focus. My father's deadline loomed like a storm cloud, and with every passing minute, my irritation simmered just beneath my composed exterior. Henry had to deliver results.
So, when he knocked and opened my office door, I lifted my gaze, praying for someone who could blend seamlessly into the world I inhabited.
Instead, I was met with an unexpected sight.
A petite, anxious woman stood half hidden behind Henry, her gaze lowered like a frightened rabbit. Her attire seemed to shout of struggle, and her hands shook visibly.
Not what I had in mind.
Disappointment cut through me, sharp and unyielding. It wasn't personal; it was about practicality. She didn't fit the mold required for the situation at hand.
I didn't hide my disappointment. Pretending was a luxury I couldn't afford.
"Sir, she's the one," Henry asserted, attempting to advocate for her.
I leaned back slightly in my chair, jaw tightening. "What is this?"
The woman shrank further into herself, anxiously avoiding my eyes.
She looked terrified.
Which only complicated things further.
Henry spoke again, trying to justify his choice, but I silenced him with a raised hand. I wanted to assess this woman for myself.
As I scrutinized her closely, she seemed even smaller, fragile in a way that made me rethink this entire arrangement.
"You're here for the contract?" I asked, my tone flat.
Her voice trembled with uncertainty. "Y…es."
I released a slow breath; the last thing I needed was someone who had no grasp of what she was stepping into.
I stood and moved around my desk, stopping just in front of her. She refused to meet my gaze, her heartbeat practically echoing in the silence between us.
"You know nothing about this agreement," I stated. "Yet you're ready to sign?"
Her lips quivered. "I… I need your help. Please."
Still trembling, still desperate.
Henry chimed in again about her mother's critical condition and the urgency of the situation. I cut him off, having heard enough. Her desperation was evident, but it didn't stem from an understanding of the contract's gravity; it came from a place of sheer survival.
People drowning in despair made reckless decisions.
The type that could jeopardize my already precarious plans.
"Sit," I instructed her, my voice brokering no argument.
She immediately obeyed, settling into the chair with a hesitance that tugged at something within me.
I studied her for a long moment, too long, really. Long enough to see past the fear.
She wasn't greedy or calculating. She was just… scared. Scared for someone she loved.
But that didn't make her the right fit for this arrangement.
"You understand that entering into a contract with me isn't something you rush into?" I queried.
She nodded too quickly. "Yes."
"And you know there's no backing out once it begins?"
"Yes."
But I could see the truth lurking beneath her anxious facade. This wasn't understanding; it was desperation posing as determination.
"And you truly believe you can handle what this contract requires?" I pressed.
A faint swallow passed her lips. "I… yes."
But I could see she couldn't, not yet.
I sighed and sought Henry with a glance.
"Take her downstairs. Let her hear the contract in full."
"Yes, sir."
She rose, visibly unsteady, and before she exited, I spoke again, directed not at her, but loud enough for her to hear.
"If this is what you truly want, let her listen. After that, I'll make my decision."
I noticed her shoulders sag, a wave of shock washing over her, followed by a flicker of fear. And then came acceptance, a surrender to reality.
She understood I hadn't accepted her.
Not even close.
As the elevator doors closed behind her, I exhaled a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.
She certainly wasn't what I expected.
But she might just be the catalyst this situation needs.
As soon as they walked out, I grabbed my phone and called my parents.
"I found a wife," I said, trying to sound casual.
My mum gasped. "Oh my God, already? Please tell me you didn't kidnap someone's daughter."
I rolled my eyes, leaning back in my chair. "You complained when I was single. Now I've found someone, and you're still complaining?"
She laughed, the excitement edging into her voice. "I'm not complaining, it's just, fast."
"Whatever. You'll meet her soon."
"I can't wait!" she exclaimed.
I hung up before she could bombard me with more questions.
Sitting behind my desk, the stillness of the morning weighed heavily against the walls of my office. One thought sliced through the silence, the girl from yesterday. The contract.
I pressed the intercom button with purpose.
"Henry, call in the girl who signed the contract yesterday. I need her here now," I instructed, my tone leaving no room for debate.
"Right away, sir," came his quick reply.
I leaned back, my fingers tapping rhythmically on the glossy surface of my desk. If she was foolish enough to sign up without reading the fine print, I needed to show her just how serious this was.
A knock broke through my thoughts. Henry slipped in with a brief nod.
"She's on her way," he said succinctly.
I returned my gaze to my phone, impatiently scrolling through the final report I needed to approve. Tension coiled within me as the minutes ticked by. The soft buzz of my phone and the steady beat of my own breathing filled the otherwise quiet space.
Then it happened, the door swung open, and I heard the faint rustle of fabric.
She stepped in.
Elena Hart.
Yes, I had to check her to see if no crime was committed.
I kept my focus on my phone, not ready to acknowledge her presence just yet. Instead, I raised a hand and motioned for her to sit.
"Take a seat."
She obeyed immediately, almost too quickly, an instinct born out of years of being taught not to take up space. I could see her clutching her bag tightly in her lap, a lifeline to calm her nerves.
As I feigned interest in my phone, I was acutely aware of her, the nervous rhythm of her breath, the tightness in her shoulders, and the outfit that made my eyes hurt.
We would have to address that.
Finally, I lowered my phone and addressed her, my tone firm yet calm.
"We're meeting my family soon. You need to be prepared."
The confusion flooded her expression. "Meet… your family?"
"Yes," I replied, my voice steady.
But instead of accepting it, she faltered, hesitation creeping in as it tugged at my patience.
"Um… sir," she murmured, "can I… can I go through the contract again? Just to be sure of what I signed?"
That caught my attention.
Slowly, I looked up, locking eyes with her. The moment our gazes met, a surge of tension crackled like electricity in the air, gray clashing with brown, fear colliding with resolve.
She didn't just say that, did she?
I appraised her fully now, the way her pulse raced at her throat, the way she swallowed hard. Innocence and uncertainty radiated from her, and frankly, it annoyed me.
And yet, there was something else I couldn't quite name.
I let the question linger, letting her squirm under my gaze.
"What," I asked, my voice laced with icy calm, "did you just say?"
She froze, fingers tightening around her skirt as if it were her only means of comfort. Pathetic.
She knew exactly what I heard, but she steeled herself, forcing the words out.
"I just want to review the contract again. I need to be sure of what I signed."
I scrutinized her, allowing a smirk to creep onto my mouth, a cold expression not born from amusement, but disbelief at such naïveté.
"You're that naïve?"
I kept my voice low; it didn't need to rise. The quieter I spoke, the more she quaked.
I stood, my movements deliberate as I adjusted my suit jacket.
"If you think this is a game, Miss Elena, you've completely misunderstood the situation."
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, instinctively retreating as I approached her, like prey sensing a predator.
"You signed a legal one-year contract," I stated. "And there's no backing out."
I halted right in front of her, and I could feel her breath coming in uneven gasps, fear, confusion, and weakness swirling in the air between us.
None of it phased me.
"We're meeting my family," I reiterated. "You will act like the daughter-in-law they expect. You won't complain. You won't question me. You will play your part."
Her voice trembled when she responded, "I… I only needed the money. I didn't realize it was this. Please, I just need time to think."
"Time?"
I let the word linger, a cruel joke coming from her lips.
"I wasted enough time on you yesterday while you scurried out of my office in tears. I don't have time to indulge your emotions."
I brushed past her and returned to my desk. She remained frozen, as if the weight of my words rendered her immobile.
My gaze swept over her, from her worn-out shoes to the faded dress that shouldn't have entered my company.
It wasn't disgusting, disgust implied emotion.
It was simply unacceptable.
"Forget packing anything from home," I said, my tone flat. "Your belongings won't meet my standards."
Her eyes went wide, hurt flashing there, but that feeling had nothing to do with me.
"You're bringing only your identification," I pressed, my tone firm. "We need it for the marriage registration."
Her lips whispered the words, "marriage registration," and I noticed the shock in her eyes but chose to ignore it.
"Miss Elena Hart," I declared, "today marks the end of your old life. It's a clean start, a new image, new rules."
Her voice quivered. "What about my mother? She's just starting to recover. I can't just leave her like this. What will I even tell her?"
I offered a cold shrug. "That, my dear, is your problem, not mine. Figure it out without causing unnecessary drama."
She hesitated, desperation creeping into her voice. "But I…"
I cut her off, my tone slicing through the air. "If you're not on board with this marriage, then you owe me every single penny I spent on your mother's surgery. Today."
I could see the realization wash over her. Her breath hitched, and fear flickered in her eyes.
Deep down, she knew she couldn't pay it back.
And so did I.
With a finality that left no room for argument, I dismissed her with two chilling words. "That's all."
Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my black card. Without a glance in her direction, I let it slide across the desk toward her.
"Buy something suitable to wear," I instructed. "We'll be meeting my parents soon. You need to look the part."
She stared at the card as if it were a weighty boulder, her hands trembling when they finally made contact.
"Cost doesn't matter," I added. "Your new wardrobe will be delivered to the mansion."
Her new home, forced upon her by a contract.
I adjusted my tie, breezed past her, and pushed the door open without a second glance.
"Don't come back dressed like that," I said, the door closing behind me with finality.
No hesitation. No regret.
Just business.