Mr Hayden Himself

Charlotte’s POV

Before I could straighten up, a hand rough, strong, deliberate caught my chin and tilted it upward.

“Sit,” he said.

I did. Maybe because there was no space to stand, or maybe because his tone left no room for argument.

When my eyes finally adjusted, I saw him. Hayden Maxwell. The man I’d only seen in business magazines and society pages. The same man my sister had thrown away like last season’s handbag.

He looked…different. Not in the face that was still devastatingly handsome but in the stillness. His blue eyes were open, sharp, yet unfocused. His gaze slid past me, then returned, as if searching for something beyond sight.

“You’re quieter than I remember,” he said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I muttered, staring at the polished table between us.

He leaned back, one hand resting on the armrest of his chair, the other tracing the rim of a glass filled with melting ice. “You should. My assistant tells me you’ve been avoiding my calls, my messages, my lawyers.”

I frowned. “Lawyers?”

Hayden’s lips curled, not in amusement but in disbelief. “You really want to play that game, Cecilia?”

That name. My chest constricted.

I opened my mouth to correct him, but the words refused to leave. If I told him the truth now, what would happen? He’d throw me out, and I’d still owe him, no. My family would owe him twenty million dollars.

I swallowed hard. “What’s this about?”

He stood slowly. Even without sight, his movements were deliberate, commanding. He walked toward the bar, pouring another drink without spilling a drop. “You spent twenty million dollars of my money,” he said flatly. “You called it ‘wedding preparations.’” He turned, head slightly tilted. “Do you recall that?”

I blinked. “Twenty million? That’s ”

“ exactly the number.” His voice cut through mine. “I didn’t care when you bought gowns or rented hotels. I didn’t even care when you ignored me for months. But now that you’ve decided to cancel the wedding, I want it back.”

Cancel the wedding. Of course, he thought I was Cecilia.

I looked down at my trembling hands. “You’re saying… you want the money back?”

“Yes.”

“In full?”

“Do you plan to pay me in installments?”

The question wasn’t sarcastic. It was terrifyingly genuine.

“I don’t have that kind of money,” I whispered.

“Then we’ll figure out another arrangement.”

His tone softened, but it didn’t ease the weight pressing down on me.

“What kind of arrangement?”

He came closer. I could feel his presence before I saw him heat, power, an invisible pull. He placed his glass on the table, his fingers brushing the wood near mine. “You know,” he murmured, “when you first proposed this engagement, you called it a business merger. Your words, not mine. Now that you’ve changed your mind, I’d like to close the account.”

He tilted his head slightly, listening to my silence. “You’re shaking,” he said.

“I’m not ”

“Yes, you are.” His hand reached out, stopping just short of my cheek. His fingers hovered there, almost touching, as if reading the tremor in the air. “Afraid of me?”

I forced a laugh that sounded brittle even to me. “You think everyone is afraid of you, don’t you?”

“No.” His hand dropped back to his side. “Only the ones who owe me.”

That was when something inside me snapped. Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe pride. “Fine,” I said, standing abruptly. “You want your money back? You’ll get it.”

He smiled faintly, though his eyes didn’t move. “How?”

I froze.

Exactly. How?

The silence between us stretched until I could hear my own heartbeat.

“I’ll marry you,” I said suddenly.

The words hung in the air, fragile but deadly.

Hayden stilled. “What did you just say?”

“I’ll marry you,” I repeated, louder this time. “You said it was a contract, right? Then let’s make it real. I’ll go through with it.”

He laughed a short, hollow sound that made my skin crawl. “That’s funny. Even for you.”

“I’m not joking.”

He tilted his head, studying me or listening, maybe, to the edge in my voice. “And why would you do that?”

“Because I can’t pay you back,” I said. “And because… maybe I should finally do something reckless.”

He was quiet for a long time. The ice in his glass cracked.

Then he whispered, “You’re not Cecilia.”

My stomach dropped. “What?”

“Your voice trembles differently,” he said softly. “Cecilia’s arrogance has a rhythm. Yours… doesn’t.”

I took a step back, heart pounding. “You’re mistaken.”

“I don’t make mistakes,” he said, straightening. “Not twice.”

He walked past me, stopping inches away. The faint scent of cedar and whiskey enveloped me. “Tell me,” he said near my ear, “who are you?”

My lips parted, but nothing came out.

He chuckled darkly. “No answer. Fine. We’ll pretend a little longer.” He turned his head slightly, and though his eyes couldn’t see me, they pinned me to the spot. “If you want to marry me, Charlotte, then show up tomorrow. Ten a.m. Maxwell Tower. Don’t be late.”

My name in his mouth felt like thunder unexpected, shattering, electric.

“How do you know ”

“I said don’t be late.”

He turned away, dismissing me like a deal already sealed.

The guards opened the door again. I stumbled out, dizzy, my heart hammering.

How did he know?

I pushed through the bar, out into the night air that bit against my skin. My phone buzzed in my hand three missed calls from Mother, one from Father, and one message from a number I didn’t recognize.

It read.

Unknown: If you walk into that tower tomorrow, you’ll never walk out the same.

The phone slipped from my hand, clattering against the pavement.

The car engine behind me roared softly, steady, patient like a predator waiting for its prey to move. I turned slowly, my pulse thudding in my ears.

The door opened.

And he stepped out.

Jacob.

“Cecilia,” he breathed, taking a step forward.

My body stiffened. He still couldn’t tell us apart. Ten years of marriage and he still didn’t know my face.

He moved closer, his voice breaking. “Cecilia, I…I shouldn’t have let things be like that between us. You don’t understand what she… what Charlotte did to me.”

I swallowed hard. “What she did?”

He nodded quickly, not even noticing the tremor in my voice. “She ruined everything. You and I were supposed to be together. You know that, right?”

His eyes were feverish, his words tumbling over themselves.

“Jacob, stop ”

“No, listen to me!” He grabbed my hand, his grip too tight. “I made a mistake. Ten years, Cecilia. Ten years wasted on her. But you ” His gaze softened, trembling. “You were always the one. You’ve always been the one.”

The world tilted. Rain began to fall, thin and cold, streaking down my cheeks and mixing with the tears I hadn’t realized were already there.

I almost laughed. In pain though, not humour.

He leaned closer, his breath shaky. “Say something, Cecilia. Please.”

I forced myself to meet his gaze. “You’re right,” I whispered.

Relief flooded his features. “I knew it. I knew you still-”

“I’m Charlotte.”