Chapter Three

Clinton's POV. 

By the time we got home, I already knew something is wrong and peace might not be on Granny's schedule tonight.

Margaret rolled herself into the living room like a queen returning from exile, inhaler clutched in one hand, eyes sharp, mouth already prepared for battle.

“Clinton,” she said, before I’d even closed the door properly, “don’t you noticedhow beautiful that woman is?.”

I sighed and kicked the door shut. “Grandma, can we at least let my shoes come off first?”

“She was beautiful.”

I stopped mid-step. “That was fast.”

“She had hips,” Margaret continued, completely ignoring me. “Good hips and a good character. Strong hips. Women with hips like that don’t abandon people.”

I stared at her. “You cannot judge a woman’s character by her hips. And one time help doesn’t guarantee that the rest pf her character are great”

“I can,” she snapped. “Because I have lived longer than you.”

Here we go again. The ancient of days bursting her age experience non stop.

“She helped you because you were wheezing,” I said, pulling off my jacket. “Not because the universe sent her to rescue our bloodline.”

Margaret gasped dramatically. “Our bloodline needs rescuing. Look at you. Thin. Moody. Still unmarried.”

“I’m thirty-two,” I shot back. “Not expired milk.”

She waved her hand. “Men expire later, but not that much later.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “what is the point about that young girl, miss margaret.”

“I blessed her,” Margaret corrected. “She picked up my inhaler like it was precious. Do you know how many people look away when I struggle?”

My voice softened despite myself. “I know.”

“And she didn’t,” Margaret said, eyes narrowing. “That is a wife in qualifying.”

I laughed once, sharp and humorless. “You want me to marry a stranger because she pick up your inhaler? C'mon , this is 21st Century, we don't do that here”

“I want you to marry her because you are alone,” Margaret snapped. “And don’t you dare deny it.”

Silence followed. She is reminding me again. Granny has been worried since I lost my parents at a very young age of seven and she want me to get married, believing her time will soon up and the asthmatic attack has been severe. To her, it's a sign that she is going to die soon.

She always knew when to strike.

“I am fine,” I muttered.

“You are surviving,” she said. “That is not the same thing.”

I turned away, my chest tightening. “I cannot do this, Grandma. Don’t expect me to just wake up and marry someone because you decided it’s time.”

Margaret huffed, crossing her arms. “I did not carry this family on my back for fifty years to watch you die lonely.”

“I am not dying,” I said.

“You are not living either,” she replied immediately.

I groaned. “You are unbelievable.”

“And yet,” she said smugly, “you love me.”

Unfortunately I do even thou she blackmail. 

She leaned forward then, voice lowering. “Ask her.”

“No.”

“Ask her.”

“No.”

She smiled sweetly. “maybe you want me to die after another attack.”

“That is emotional blackmail." I stared at her, defeated.

“Fine,” I muttered. “I’ll talk to her. But I am not promising anything.”

Margaret beamed. “That’s my boy.”

I tapped the keys on my phone, the screen glowing blue in the dim car interior. I had made the call to my assistant, I needed information on her. Her name, her workplace, and more importantly, her address. Not that I planned to use it like a stalker; this was about Grandma. Margaret. And her relentless, nagging insistence that I secure someone decent before she… well, before she lost the strength to insist.

The next day, I got everything I needed to know. 

Driving toward her neighborhood, I couldn’t help the tension coiling in my chest. I thought about the girl because Grandma had demanded it, and I would do anything for her.

The street stretched out in quiet monotony, the afternoon sun reflecting off the windows of brick houses. And then, there she was. Small, hunched slightly over a trash bag, tying it up with deliberate care.

 It struck me in a way I hadn’t expected: how ordinary she looked in the light of the neighborhood, how human. And yet… there was that same aura, that tension, like the world had trained her to flinch at everything.

I parked a few meters away, rolling the window down. “Hello!” I called, voice firm but low. The word had weight. She froze immediately, hands clutching the bag, and turned slowly. That moment, the hesitation, the wariness told me everything. 

“Yes?” she asked, voice cautious, eyes scanning around like she expected someone to leap from the shadows.

“Can I see for a moment?” I said, stepping out of the car. “I mean right now.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Excuse me?”

“I won’t take much of your time,” I said. I could feel my chest tightening, the old instinct of protectiveness kicking in. 

She laughed, short and incredulous, a bark of disbelief. “I don’t even know you. What are you some kind of… stalker?”

“Apologies, you save my Grandmother yesterday,” I said, the edge in my voice softening just enough to be threatening. “can you get in so that we can talk better?”

Her eyes widened, a flicker of something like horror passing over her features. “She… loves me?”

Her hands shook slightly as she hesitated, tugging the bag closer to her chest. I could feel the uncertainty radiating from her. I could almost hear the thoughts ricocheting: Who is this man? Why does he know me? Why is he asking this?

“Look,” I said, stepping closer, lowering my voice, “ Granny is suffering asthmatic just like you know and she kept talking about dying soon. She love how you are kind and insisted I ask you. I’m offering a contract marriage. Nothing more.”

Her eyes narrowed, and then she laughed, bitterly, a short, sharp sound. “You’re insane. I don’t know anything about you. Why would I.. why would anyone agree to something like that?”

“Because it’s temporary. Because it will help her. Because I am asking. Because I will do anything to make this happen for her.” My jaw tightened. “And because I will make it worth your while, I'm ready to pay any amount.”

Her gaze flicked toward me, wary, calculating. I could see the wheels turning in her mind. “Money?” she asked carefully, like testing the water.

“Yes,” I admitted. “Enough to make this worth your while. But it’s not about money, it’s about her. Do you understand?”

She exhaled sharply, a mix of disbelief and resignation. “I… I will think about it,” she said finally, stepping back from the door of my car. Her eyes never left mine as she added, “I will get back to you.”

I nodded, trying not to show the tension coiling in my chest. “Good. Take your time. But don’t take too long.”

She hesitated, then turned and walked toward her direction. The way she moved was familiar somehow, like a shadow brushing against memory. I watched her go, the sunlight catching the hair at the nape of her neck, the slight tension in her shoulders. And despite myself, I felt the tug of something I hadn’t expected.

Margaret would be satisfied. At least for now. But I couldn’t shake the unease curling low in my stomach. Something about her was… familiar. Too familiar. And I didn’t yet know why.