IV

"I—I need to talk to your boss. Um... Is F-Franklyn Carrington in his office?" I asked the moment I approached his secretary.

She gave me a polite smile. "Yes, Ma’am. May I have your name so I can inform Sir that you wish to speak with him?"

It wasn’t surprising that she didn’t recognize me. I had never stepped foot in Franklyn’s company before. If I hadn’t made a complete mess of things last night and needed to get away from my father—at least for a while—I wouldn’t be here now.

"Ah, yes! Ummm... I-I'm Cosette Blanche Allen. Please tell him that it's important."

The secretary nodded and disappeared into Franklyn’s office.

I took a shaky breath, gripping the strap of my bag tightly. Hold it together, Cosette. The last thing I needed was to break down in the middle of his office—in front of his employees, no less. No, if I was going to cry, I’d do it where only Franklyn could see.

A few minutes later, his secretary returned, offering me a reassuring smile.

"You can go in now, Miss Allen. Sir is available to speak with you."

I nodded and stepped inside, quietly shutting the door behind me.

Franklyn was leaning against his desk, his arms crossed as he studied me with curiosity.

And the moment I saw him—saw someone familiar, someone safe—I broke.

I rushed toward him and threw my arms around him, gripping his shirt tightly. He stiffened, surprised by my sudden outburst, but he didn’t push me away.

I buried my face against his chest, silent tears spilling down my cheeks.

He didn’t speak—just held me, offering silent comfort.

Minutes passed before I finally pulled away, quickly wiping at my damp face.

Franklyn exhaled, eyeing me with growing suspicion. "What was that, Cosette Blanche Allen? Don’t tell me..."

I avoided his gaze and sucked in a shaky breath. I’m so f*cked. What have I done?

He ran a hand through his hair, turning away as if already knowing the answer. "Sh*t," he muttered before facing me again.

"What happened last night, Setta? Your plan—didn’t it work out? I helped you!"

"The plan... happened," I whispered.

Franklyn frowned. "Then why the hell are you crying? Why do you look like you just walked into a disaster?" He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Damn it, Cosette, I told you I didn’t agree with this plan!"

I bit my lip, my throat tightening. He had warned me. He told me not to do it, but I had been too desperate to listen.

I clenched my fists. "I went to the wrong condo unit."

Franklyn’s eyes widened, and for a second, he looked like he might actually collapse. He quickly gripped the edge of his desk for support.

"Y-You what?"

I swallowed hard, the words almost refusing to come out. "I went to the wrong condo unit, Frank. I didn’t end up in Harrison’s place. I—"

I stopped.

I couldn’t even say his name.

I was too shaken by his threat.

The way Yohan had looked at me after Dad’s outburst. The way his eyes had practically screamed "you’re dead."

Franklyn must have noticed my hesitation because his expression darkened.

"Cosette," he said carefully. "Whose unit did you end up in?"

I let out a trembling breath. "Yohan Warren’s."

The room fell into a stunned silence.

Franklyn paled. "Sh*t."

Exactly.

And if my father has his way… I’m about to be married to the most ruthless man in the business world.

"What the hell, Cosette?!" Franklyn's voice boomed, his frustration palpable. "I gave you the right floor and the right number! How the hell did you mess this up? Are you blind?"

I shot him a sharp glare. "I followed your text, asshole! I went to room 456—just like you told me!" I snapped back.

Franklyn blinked, his brows furrowing. Then, to my surprise, he stepped closer and grabbed my shoulders, his grip firm but not harsh.

"F-Franklyn?" My voice wavered as unease crept up my spine.

He took a deep breath, his expression softening into something that looked suspiciously like pity.

"Setta..." He exhaled. "It was room 455. Not 456."

The words hit me like a freight train.

No.

I felt the strength drain from my body. My knees buckled, and I would have collapsed had Franklyn not caught me. He guided me to the nearest couch, forcing me to sit as I stared at him in stunned disbelief.

No. No, no, no—this can’t be happening.

I looked at him with wide, desperate eyes, my vision blurring. "Franklyn," I whispered, my voice trembling. "Please tell me you made a mistake. Tell me you got the number wrong. Not me!"

He let out a slow sigh and pulled out his phone. After a few moments, he turned the screen toward me, his face unreadable.

"Read it, Setta," he said, his tone quieter but firm.

I hesitated, then took the phone from his hand. My fingers trembled as I scrolled through our conversation from last night.

No.

My stomach twisted violently as I read the messages.

Cosette:

Frank, I'm outside Whitmore Apartelle. Please text me the exact room number of Harrison's unit. Thank you!

Franklyn:

Are you really doing this, Cosette? If you fail, it's not my fault! I warned you!

Cosette:

I know, Frank! Faster! Please send me the number!

Franklyn:

Fine! It's room 455. Be careful, Cosette.

I almost dropped his phone.

Franklyn plucked it from my limp hands, raising an eyebrow. "Now, tell me—which unit did you go into?" He folded his arms. "And what the hell happened in there?"

Shame clawed at my chest. My throat closed up, burning with humiliation. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid! I had one job, and I still managed to screw it up.

I felt my face crumple as tears spilled down my cheeks.

"H-Hey!" Franklyn panicked, sitting beside me. "Stop crying! Damn it, Cosette, I—"

I turned to him, my entire body trembling.

"I went to Zion Yohan Warren's unit," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper. "Something... happened between us. And—" I swallowed hard, squeezing my eyes shut. "And this morning, my dad saw us."

Franklyn stilled.

A heavy silence filled the room.

Then I forced out the final, soul-crushing words.

"He wants me to marry him."

Franklyn's mouth fell open. He blinked once. Twice.

"C-Cosette—"

"You know there's no way out of this, Frank!" My voice cracked as I clutched my head, frustration and despair tightening around my chest. "I just wanted to help my sister—I wanted to help Gene—but instead, I made everything worse. What now? A double wedding?" A bitter laugh escaped me, but it was drowned by the tears spilling down my face.

"I hate this. I hate myself. I'm so stupid!"

My body trembled as I broke down, but before I could spiral further, Franklyn pulled me into his arms. He didn’t speak. He didn’t scold me. He just held me, his hand running soothingly up and down my back as I sobbed into his shoulder.

But no amount of comfort could change the reality of my situation.

I can’t marry Yohan.

He’s a devil. A ruthless, arrogant, cold-blooded bastard. And when he said I was "dead" to him, I knew he meant it. If this marriage actually happens, I might as well be signing my own damn death sentence.

Damn it!

This is all because of that damn alcohol! I swear—I will never, ever drink again.

Not one sip. Not one drop.

But more than that…

I will do whatever it takes to stop this marriage.

I will never marry that man.