The gates to Ashford Estate slid open with a low groan.
"We can turn around," Matthew said, his voice barely above a whisper. He'd said it three times already, each time slower than the last.
"No," Maya answered, giving his hand a squeeze. Her blue dress – the only one she owned that felt "nice enough" for this place – rustled against the leather seat. "We both know you can't keep running from them."
The drive wound through manicured lawns and ancient oaks, leading to a mansion that had stood for three generations – all marble columns and dark brick. He didn't argue. They'd been together three years, and she knew him better than anyone – knew how the weight of his name sat heavy on his shoulders, how he'd grown up thinking love was something you earned, not something you were given.
Inside, the foyer stretched high above them, crystal chandeliers casting shadows like spiderwebs across the marble floor. Eleanor Ashford appeared before they'd even reached the stairs – her black pantsuit sharp and unyielding, her hair pulled back so tightly it seemed to pull her lips into a line as permanent as the mansion's foundation.
"Matthew," she said first, then paused – her eyes sliding over Maya like she was examining a stain on her carpet. "And… Maya. How… thoughtful of you to join us."
"I wanted her here," Matthew said, stepping forward so he stood slightly in front of Maya – his shoulder tensed, shielding her slightly from Eleanor's sharp gaze. "Everything you have to say to me, you can say to both of us."
Eleanor's lips pressed thinner. "Very well. Your father is in the sitting room."
The fire roared in the hearth, but the room still felt cold. Richard Ashford sat in his usual armchair, his hands folded over his stomach, his gaze fixed on the flames. He didn't look up as they entered.
"Sit," he said, his voice deep and rough like gravel.
Maya perched on the edge of the sofa, her back straight enough to make her shoulders ache. Matthew sat beside her, their hands finding each other under the cushion – his were trembling.
"Thank you for having me, Mr. Ashford," Maya said, her voice clear despite the knot in her throat. "Mrs. Ashford."
"We called Matthew home to discuss matters of importance to our family," Eleanor said, settling into a chair across from them. "Matters that have been planned for a very long time."
"I know what you're going to say," Matthew cut in, his jaw tight. "And the answer is no. I'm not marrying Sophia Vanderbilt."
Richard finally lifted his eyes – dark and hard, exactly like his son's, but without the warmth that made Matthew himself. "You don't get to say no to this, boy. The alliance with the Vanderbilts was agreed upon when you were still in diapers. It's our legacy – our future."
"Legacy?" Matthew stood up so fast the sofa cushion slid out from under Maya. "You call this legacy? Selling me off like a prize bull to keep your company afloat?"
"It's not selling – it's securing," Eleanor snapped, standing too. "The Vanderbilts will take us to heights we've only dreamed of. What can she give you?" She gestured at Maya, her hand sharp as a whip. "A life of counting pennies? Of working with people who'll never amount to anything?"
Maya felt something inside her snap. She stood slowly, her hands steady at her sides. "My parents work two jobs each to make sure we have what we need," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "They taught me that a person's worth isn't measured in dollars – it's measured in how much they care about others. Matthew knows that. He's known it since the day we met."
Richard stood then, his broad frame filling the room. "You have no right to speak of what our son needs. You don't understand our world – you never will."
"I understand love," Maya said, looking him straight in the eye. "I understand that when you care about someone, you don't make choices for them – you stand by them, even when it's hard. I love your son, and I won't let you make him choose between me and the life you think he should have."
Matthew pulled her close, his arm wrapping around her waist. "She's right," he said, his voice steady now. "I'm not choosing against you – I'm choosing for myself. For us. I won't marry Sophia. I won't throw away everything we've built."
"Then you throw away everything we've built," Richard said, his voice like stone cracking. "The company, the house, your inheritance – all of it will be gone."
Matthew didn't hesitate. "I have her," he said simply. "That's all I need."
He led her toward the door, his hand warm on the small of her back. Eleanor called out behind them.
"Matthew! You'll regret this! You'll have nothing!"
He didn't turn back, but Maya felt him squeeze her waist.
Outside, the night air was cool and clean against her face. Matthew stopped on the steps, cupping her cheeks in his hands. The light from the mansion windows made his eyes shine.
"Are you sure?" he asked again, his voice soft. "We'll have to start over – really start over."
Maya smiled, brushing her thumb over his lower lip. "I've never felt like I had everything before," she said. "Not until now."
He kissed her then, right there on the steps of the house that had raised him but never felt like home. Behind them, the mansion stood dark and imposing – but ahead, the stars were just beginning to come out.
As we pulled away, headlights flashed down the long drive – the Vanderbilt crest gleaming bright on the grille of a sleek black limo, heading straight for the mansion.
[END OF CHAPTER 1]