"Tris, you're home," my father said the moment I stepped inside. "I'd like you to meet Mr. Rowan Laxamana."
The name rang a bell—too familiar. I studied the man seated across the living room. There was something about his face, something irritatingly recognizable, but my memory refused to cooperate.
Then it hit me.
My steps slowed.
That face.
The man in the black suit.
The one who nearly ran me over earlier.
The one who had been in such a hurry, like the world was burning behind him.
The one who had handed me a business card instead of an apology.
"Rowan," my dad continued, completely unaware of the tension forming in the air, "this is my one and only daughter—Tris."
Rowan stood and offered a small, polite smile.
"Oh," he said calmly, eyes settling on me. "So you're Mr. Celestine's daughter."
Then, without hesitation—
"Nice to meet you, wife."
My blood froze.
"Y-YOU?!" I blurted out. "You're the jerk who almost ran me over earlier! What are you doing here—don't tell me my suspicion was right?!"
Rowan didn't react. No surprise. No guilt. Just a blank, unreadable stare.
"Yeah," he said casually. "You're right."
My father frowned, confusion spreading across his face. "Wait—do you two know each other?"
"He almost erased me from existence today," I snapped, arms crossed tightly over my chest.
"What do you mean, Tris?" Dad asked. Then, as if remembering something important, he turned to Rowan. "By the way, Rowan, Tris is a retired lawyer. If you ever need help—"
Dad's phone rang.
"I'll just take this call for a moment," he said. "Tris, entertain our guest. Juice, coffee—whatever he wants, okay?"
Then, smiling warmly at Rowan, "Make yourself at home."
Rowan nodded politely.
I turned to him, narrowing my eyes.
"So, Mr. Antipatiko—juice, water, or do you want me to punch you again?"
"Anything's fine," he replied smoothly. "So… you used to be a lawyer?"
"What's it to you?" I shot back.
I grabbed a glass of juice from the kitchen. When I returned, he was smiling—a slow, irritating smile that felt like mockery.
"So," he said, taking the glass, "a former lawyer. Though from what I saw earlier, you weren't a very good one. Good thing you're retired."
My eyebrow twitched.
"Are you mocking me?"
"Well," he said lightly, "you threatened to sue me for reckless driving—but you were the one riding carelessly. And I gave you my card for compensation. Unless I ran away without taking responsibility?"
"Everything you say is nonsense," I snapped. "Just like your personality."
He stood and moved closer—too close.
Before I could react, he sat beside me, his hand settling firmly on my waist. He pulled me toward him, his face inches from mine.
My breath caught.
My heart slammed violently against my ribs.
For a split second, I thought—
He's going to kiss me.
But he tilted his head, leaning toward my ear instead.
"If I were you," he whispered, each word sharp and deliberate, "You'd talk to me nicely."
I shoved him hard.
He let go immediately, and I fell back against the sofa, stunned. I straightened at once, swallowing hard. My chest felt tight. My face burned.
He smiled—amused. Satisfied.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!" I yelled.
My heart wouldn't calm down. It kept pounding, loud and fast, like it was betraying me.
"You're fun to mess with," he said. "Look at your face—were you blushing? Did you think I was going to kiss you?"
"Your audacity!" I snapped. "Want me to punch you again?!"
His expression hardened, eyes narrowing.
"Try it," he said quietly. "And I promise you won't enjoy what happens next."
I clenched my fists.
"Call off this stupid plan between you and my dad. I am not marrying you!"
He lifted a finger and tapped my forehead gently.
"Nope," he said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "This wedding is happening—whether you like it or not, wifey."
I opened my mouth to scream at him—
Footsteps echoed across the floor.
My dad walked in, beaming. He rubbed his hands together, clearly pleased, completely misreading the atmosphere.
"So?" he asked cheerfully. "Looks like you two had a nice talk."
"Dad," I snapped, pointing at Rowan, "I refuse to marry this jerk!"
"Why?" Dad asked, turning to Rowan with a fond smile. "Rowan's a good man, right?"
"Uncle," Rowan said smoothly, glancing at me for a brief second, "I want to marry Tris as soon as possible—whether she likes it or not."
My jaw dropped.
Uncle? As if he already belonged here.
"NOOO!" I screamed.
Dad barely looked at me. His face lit up.
"Of course!" he said, patting Rowan's shoulder. "Just tell me the details—I'll handle everything else."
I stood there, frozen, invisible.
Rowan's secretary suddenly rushed over and whispered something in his ear. Rowan's expression didn't change, but his eyes darkened slightly.
"I'll take my leave first, Uncle," he said. "Something urgent came up."
Before leaving, he turned to me.
"We'll see each other again, babe."
My stomach turned.
"Ew. Babe your face, jerk."
The moment his car disappeared, I stormed toward my father and slammed my palm on the table.
"Why him?" I demanded. "There are so many men out there! Why someone so arrogant?!"
Dad turned slowly. His face looked older. Tired. Worn down.
"Because we need him," he said quietly.
"Need him for what?"
"For the farm." He sighed heavily. "We don't own it anymore. It belongs to the Laxamanas now. If you refuse this marriage… we lose everything. And I could end up in jail."
My legs weakened.
"The farm… isn't ours anymore?"
I sank onto the sofa. My head spun. Pity and anger tangled painfully inside my chest.
"I love you, Tris," Dad said softly, kneeling in front of me. His hands trembled as he held mine. "I had no choice. Please… do this for me."
I pulled my hands away and stood.
"You should have told me sooner," I said, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. "I can go back to being a lawyer. I'll fix this. I still have my license. My connections. I can—"
I stopped.
Because deep down…
I knew this wasn't going to be that simple.