Dark circles carved deep shadows beneath her eyes, a testament to a night spent in restless vigilance, checking dates, chasing thoughts, unraveling the enigma of her return to life. How had she been granted this second chance? And more importantly how would she bend it to her own will?
Fiona stared at her reflection in the mirror. The stillness of the image unnerved her; dark rings untouched, her gaze sharp, a blazing purpose simmering beneath the surface.
The door yanked open without warning, snapping her attention away.
"Hi, Fin. Why aren't you dressed yet?" Fallyn asked as she stepped inside, her hand drifting casually across Fiona's shoulder.
"Look at yourself in the mirror! What did you do to yourself overnight? Why do you have dark circles?" Fallyn's voice carried genuine concern.
"Ah, it's nothing. I just couldn't sleep," Fiona replied, her eyes meeting Fallyn's in the reflection.
"I know it's your day, but Mom will be furious if you don't look your best," Fallyn said, tapping Fiona's shoulder. "Why don't you take a shower? I'll grab my beauty kit, and we'll fix these dark circles."
"Awww, isn't my sister just so lovely?" Fiona teased, a smile barely hiding her true thoughts.
"Of course! I'm the loveliest and the best in the whole wide world," Fallyn said, striding toward the door. She paused, hand on the handle, and looked back. "If I don't take care of you, who will?"
Just then, Fiona's laughter faded as Fallyn closed the door behind her.
"Who will indeed," Fiona scoffed, tightening her jaw.
An hour later, the couch cradled Fiona's relaxed weight. Her face bare of makeup, hair loose and unstyled, dressed as casually as ever if unbotheredness were a person, it would be her.
The living room filled with the sharp scent of Eva's cologne as she sank onto the couch, her gaze immediately falling on Fiona. "What is this? Can't you at least do basic makeup?" She shot a look toward Fallyn's room. "Darling, why didn't you touch her face?"
"Fin didn't agree," Fallyn's voice called out, loud enough to echo across the room.
"Tsk. Why did I forget to get you a new gown?" Eva muttered, eyes glued to her phone as she scrolled. "Do we even have time to place an order? What's your size?"
Fiona's eyes narrowed, her chest tightening. "Mom, that will be stressful. Don't bother. I'm fine with what I'm wearing."
Indeed, it had been a long time since her parents had bought her anything. Her wardrobe hadn't welcomed a new piece in years, especially compared to Fallyn's, which overflowed with designer clothes.
Eva's finger hovered over the screen, her gaze flicking from her phone back to Fiona distracted by the sound of the front door opening.
"Hope you're all prepared. Mr. Manson will be here soon," Brett announced, hurrying toward Eva, her eyes taking in the meticulous orderliness of the house as Fallyn stepped out of her room.
"Dad! You're back!" she shouted, throwing herself into his arms and waving like a child.
Brett chuckled, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Yes, my baby." Fallyn pulled back reluctantly, cheeks warm from the hug.
"Baby, fetch the air freshener. The place should carry a scent both elegant and inviting, fit for our guest," he said, sinking into the couch with a measured ease.
Fallyn snatched the spray from the shelf, misting the room in a hurried swirl as the doorbell chimed. The scent lingered in the air, but there was no time to linger. She dropped the bottle back onto the shelf and darted to the door. Her eyes scanned the cam screen, landing on a man in a sharp suit. Heart pounding, she swung the door open only to be met with someone she hadn't expected. And behind him, moving silently like a shadow, was the man she had glimpsed on the cam.
Surprise flashed across Fallyn's face, her eyes locked on him as if drawn by some irresistible force. His towering, muscular frame exuded the power of an athlete, every line and contour honed to perfection. The tailored blue tuxedo clung to him like sculpted marble, accentuating the strength in his shoulders and chest. His neatly styled hair framed a sharp jawline and high cheekbones, while flawless, pale skin seemed to glow with a godlike, timeless beauty that stole her breath away.
"Mr. Thames, it's a pleasure to have you here," Brett said, hurrying forward. He extended his hands, which Manson gripped respectfully. "Please, this way."
The two men walked toward the living room, followed closely by Fallyn and Brian.
When everyone had finally settled, the atmosphere seemed to curve around Manson, the sharp trail of his cologne marking his undeniable authority.
Eva's voice floated through the room, soft and melodic like a lullaby. "What can we offer you, Mr. Thames?"
Manson crossed one leg, resting his right elbow on the couch arm while his hand supported his tilted head. His gaze burned into the two women seated before him.
Calm and precise, Brian replied on his behalf, "Yes 90H2O, please."
Meanwhile, Fiona hadn't spared them a single glance since their arrival, her eyes glued to her phone as if the world depended on it. But Brian's words struck her like a jolt, her eyes snapped wide, and her fingers froze mid-scroll, hovering helplessly over the screen.
"Uhh…" Eva's words caught in her throat.
"Hmm… Mr. Thames could we perhaps offer another spring water?" Her smile wavered, tinged with awkwardness and shame.
Thames retrieved his phone from his pocket, the light glinting in his eyes as his gaze remained fixed on the screen. Brian stepped in with effortless grace, breaking the silence. "Fiji spring water, please.
"Of course." Eva hurried to the fridge, swinging it open; revealing six bottles, their chilled surfaces glittering under the light.
Brett, it seemed, had been quietly prepared. A few days ago, he had bought a pack of Fiji water and two bottles of wine almost as if he had known this moment would arrive. The subtle foresight made the room feel even smaller, the tension thicker.
The tray, with the glass and bottle of water perfectly arranged, rested on the table as Fallyn hurried forward, eager to help her mother serve Manson.
Before she could reach it, Brian's hand rose in a quiet, commanding gesture, halting her in her tracks. "Please don't serve it. Just leave it as it is," he said with calm authority, standing silently behind Manson, his presence a subtle reminder of control.
As the scene unraveled, Fiona's thoughts spiraled inward. Though anger simmered beneath the surface toward her parents, it was Manson's infuriatingly detached composure that truly grated on her nerves.
'You're doomed, Fiona. Is this the proud, emotionless stranger they're selling you to?'
The thought reverberated heavily in her chest as she fixed him with a resentful stare until his eyes lifted and locked onto hers. The sudden connection made her flinch, her breath hitching despite herself.
"So," he said coolly, his voice deep and unyielding, edged with an icy authority, "which one of you is Fiona?"
"Fiona, stand," Brett ordered, his tone brooking no refusal. "This is Fiona, Mr. Thames, our eldest daughter."
Manson's gaze lingered on her a moment longer than necessary, measured and unreadable.
Instantly, Eva's gaze hardened at Fiona's continued stillness. "Won't you greet him?" she asked evenly, though the warning beneath her calm was unmistakable.
"Uh… hi. G-good day, sir," Fiona stammered, the words catching awkwardly in her throat.
Manson did not acknowledge her greeting.
Instead, he made a brief, almost imperceptible gesture toward Brian, his gaze sliding over Fiona with cool appraisal from the crown of her head to the soles of her feet, measured, detached, final.
Brian stepped forward, placed a sleek briefcase onto the table, and opened it with practiced precision. He withdrew a set of documents and laid them out neatly.
"Here are the documents," Manson said, his voice firm, imbued with an unquestionable authority. "You may review them before signing."
Brett reached for the papers just as Eva hurried to his side. Their attention went straight to the bold figure printed at the bottom of the page. A satisfied smile bloomed across their faces.
Without bothering to read a single clause, Brett shoved the documents flat against the table, seized a pen, and signed without hesitation indifferent to the terms, blind to the cost.
"Very well, Mr. Thames," Brett said, his voice alight with barely contained glee, as though Fiona no longer existed. She had been left standing, forgotten an afterthought beside the weight of money now within reach.
The realization snapped something in her. "Can I sit down, Dad?" Fiona asked, her irritation spilling through.
"Oh right. Yes. Sit," he muttered distractedly, waving a careless hand.
"The cheque, sir," Brian said, extending it toward Brett.
Brett seized it at once, his grip firm, his smile unmistakably satisfied.
"I will inform you of the engagement date," Manson said coolly as he rose to his feet. "For now, I'll take my leave."
"Of course, sir. Anytime you're ready," Brett replied, nodding eagerly.
With a sudden movement, Fiona stood, words teetering on her tongue 'Uh' yet she faltered, forcing Manson to pause.
"Is there a problem, miss?" Manson's voice was calm, smooth, and entirely unreadable.