Choosing the Right One

I had just stepped out of Mr. Chapman Senior's study when I ran into George Chapman and his cousins.

The moment they laid eyes on me, they scattered. But even as they walked away, they couldn't help but take jabs at me.

"Beatrice, here for George again? You really don't hold back, do you? Aren't you worried that your war-hero grandpa's rolling in his grave, watching you throw yourself at a man like this?"

George, meanwhile, stared at me coldly.

"What are you doing here?" he asked sharply. "Are you trying to get Grandpa to put in a good word for you again? You already brought up how your grandfather saved him in the war, didn't you? Haven't you milked that story enough?

"You know what, don't bother. You've already embarrassed me enough by turning our relationship into the talk of the town. I haven't made up my mind about the wedding. No matter who you run to, it won't make a difference."

His eyes were filled with contempt and disgust. Just like in my previous life, my love had never been enough to move him.

I let out a long breath before calmly saying, "Does this have anything to do with you? Mr. Chapman Senior was the one who invited me. He's throwing a birthday party for me tomorrow."

As soon as my words settled, George's cousins froze.

"What? Grandpa's hosting a party for you?" one of them blurted.

I knew exactly why they looked so stunned. Mr. Chapman Senior hadn't involved himself in family affairs in years. Now that he was stepping in, it was clear this was more than just a birthday party.

He had once told me that on my 20th birthday, I'd have to choose a husband from among the Chapman young men. Whoever I picked would inherit most of his personal estate and take over as the head of the family.

After the initial shock wore off, George's cousins turned to George with teasing grins.

"Congrats, George! Don't forget about us once you're in charge," said one.

Another chimed in, "With Grandpa backing you, you can finally step into the big leagues!"

"Congrats to you, too, Beatrice. After all these years of trying to win me over, it looks like you're finally getting what you want. You must be thrilled," George remarked, sarcasm dripping from his voice as he shot me an arrogant look.

Then, he leaned in closer and whispered, "But to avoid the same pathetic ending as last time, there's something you must agree to.

"Once we're married, we live separate lives. You stay out of my business. That's the only way I'm saying yes."

His words sent a ripple of shock through me. I hadn't expected him to make such a ridiculous demand.

I stared at him, suspicious. Had he been reborn, too?

Just then, a kittenish voice piped up behind me.

"Beatrice?"

My younger sister, Isabella Layton, approached us. She wore a miniskirt, and a shy smile tugged at her lips. Every now and then, she'd let out a soft cough.

Seeing that, George hurried over to her. "You shouldn't be out when you're sick."

Isabella lowered her head, looking pitiful. "Georgie, it was my dad's idea. He didn't want Beatrice to come alone."

George took her hand and glared at me.

"How pampered can you be? You need a chaperone just to leave the house?" he spat. "Can't you see Bella's not feeling well?"

Having said that, he led Isabella away.

As they walked off, George glanced over his shoulder and warned, "Beatrice Layton, if you keep acting like this, there's no way in hell I'm marrying you."

His words made me chuckle. The truth was, I was the one who didn't want to marry him.