Chapter 2

Ella POV

My dad’s expression suddenly darkened, he turns to the strange woman beside him. “Monica, can you wait for me in the study?. I have something to handle.” My father’s voice carried an unfamiliar tone that I have never heard.

Monica nodded, smiling sweetly at him and disappeared down the hallway without sparing me a stare.

My father turned to me next.

“Ella. Room. Now.”

I looked at him for a moment. Then I turned toward the kitchen.

“I said…”

“I heard you.”

I moved quietly through the kitchen, filling two mugs with warm milk. The sounds from the sitting room whispered through, low voices, my father’s chair scraping slightly against the floor. I didn’t rush. I filled both mugs gently, wiped the counter and picked them up.

On my way out I stopped beside the guard stationed near the hallway and held one mug toward him with a look. He collected it without saying a word, disappearing in the direction of Aaron’s room.

I kept the second mug and walked back into the sitting room.

That was when I saw him properly.

He sat in my father’s chair, the one my dad never let anyone touch, the one that sat at the left side of the room like a throne he had appointed himself. One leg crossed over the other, both hands resting loosely, his dark eyes moving through the room nonchalantly.

He wasn’t nervous. If anything, he looked comfortable.

I moved toward the sofa nearby and sat down, wrapping both hands around my mug and saying nothing.

“Ella.” My father’s voice tightened the moment he noticed me. “When adults are having a conversation children should not be present.”

I looked at him slowly over the rim of my mug.

Then I stood.

“Sorry.” I kept my voice light, unbothered. “I didn’t realize the sitting room had an age requirement now.”

I moved toward the stairway and paused just at the frame then turned around.

“Interesting chair choice by the way.” I let the words sit easy in the air. “That’s where my dad sits when he’s pretending to be in control.”

I walked out.

But I didn’t go far.

The pillar just beyond the stairway was wide enough. I pressed my back against it and stayed completely still, one hand still wrapped around the warm mug.

My father’s voice came first, more gently, stripped of the authority he always had on.

“I appreciate you coming personally Mr Salvatore. Truly. I want you to know I have every intention of settling this. I simply need more time. Two weeks, maybe three and I can have at least half…”

“You said that four months ago.” The other voice was quiet. And that made it worse.

A pause.

“Yes. Yes I know and I take full responsibility for that. My company has been going through a difficult stage but I assure you…”

“Mr Adelaide.” The voice cut through cleanly. “I didn’t come here for assurances. I came here because five million dollars is not a figure my family waits on indefinitely.”

I felt something shift in my chest.

Five million.

I pressed closer to the pillar, holding in my breath.

My father’s confidence was dissolving in real time, I could hear it in the way he spoke, counting all his words, the way he kept reaching for words that wouldn’t come through. The man who ruled every corner of this house with an iron hand was sitting across from a stranger and slowly falling apart.

“There must be something we can work out.” My father’s voice had dropped into a pleading state. “I built a relationship with your father for years. Surely that counts for something.”

“My father’s relationships are not my concern.”

Silence.

The stranger’s voice shifted. Not warm but different.

“However.” A pause. “I do have an option that would settle this easily.”

My father said nothing but his eyes gave away the eager state he was in at the moment.

“The debt disappears In exchange for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

The mug slipped from my fingers. Hitting the floor with a sharp crack, warm milk spreading across the tiles as I moved. My father’s chair scraped violently as he jolted up, his footsteps heavy and fast behind me.

His hand caught my arm at the pillar.

“Ella” His voice came out in a hiss, low and furious. “What is your problem? How long have you been standing there?”

I looked at his hand on my arm.

Then at his face.

My expression must have told him everything because he opened his mouth again but I was already pulling free, walking past him into the sitting room before he could say a word.

I walked to the kitchen without saying a word. My body moved on its own reaching for the glass on the counter, filling it slowly under the tap, the sound of running water was the only sound around the house at this moment.

Your daughter’s hand in marriage.

The glass was full.

I turned.

Two guards stepped into the doorway the moment I stepped out of the kitchen, blocking the entrance with their bodies, hands raised slightly.

I stopped.

Looked at the first one. Then the second.

Neither of them moved.

Neither did I.

Air in the sitting room shifted, and suddenly they stepped aside.

I walked through.

The sitting room air was completely still. My father stood frozen near the pillar, his face pale. But I never cared. The strange man sat exactly where I had left him with the same expression. Like nothing in the last five minutes had touched him at all.

I came face to face with him.

Raised the glass.

And splashed it on his face.

As the water dripped down his face, the corner of his lips curved, slowly and unconcerned. Which bothered me in a subtle way.