Chapter 2

"Alright, it's time to depart. Let's go, Camilla," Stuart declared with a sense of authority, the weight of responsibility evident in his demeanor.

"Goodbye, Mom and Dad," Camilla bid farewell, her affectionate tug on Stuart's arm betraying a genuine closeness between them.

Rake, Stuart's meticulous assistant, awaited them near the sleek, black Lamborghini, opening the door with a courteous bow that spoke of practiced elegance.

"Good morning, young master," Rake greeted, his gestures refined and respectful, bowing repeatedly as a mark of deference.

Seated in the passenger seat, Stuart directed the driver to commence their journey. The convoy of five Lamborghinis outlined in a display of opulence, their engines roaring to life as they glided toward Gates Entertainment, the sprawling empire that bore the family name.

"Stuart, I'll be in the office tomorrow. During that time, you're not allowed to be with any girl, not even your secretary," Camilla embraced his arm, her head resting on his shoulder in a possessive gesture, while Stuart remained focused on his laptop, a screen of unwavering determination.

Observing this, Mr. Rake thought, "I expected the young master to be more tender to his fiancée than others, but he treats everyone the same." The enigma of Stuart's emotions and his ability to mask them intrigued the astute assistant.

Arriving at the colossal Gates Entertainment building, Mr. Rake opened the car door for Stuart, who ascended the elevator to his cabin on the thirteenth floor with practiced ease. Greetings echoed in the hallways as he passed, oblivious to a girl on the couch, a seemingly insignificant detail in the grand tapestry of his day.

Entering the conference hall, Stuart initiated the meeting with a commanding presence, his charisma drawing attention and respect from the gathered executives. The discussion flowed seamlessly under his guidance, a testament to his business acumen and leadership.

In the evening, while Stuart immersed himself in work, his phone incessantly rang, disrupting the focused atmosphere of his office. Irritated, he considered answering but heard a reproachful voice, a voice that conveyed clear displeasure and a touch of vulnerability.

"Will you ignore my calls for work?" the voice expressed its frustration, demanding attention.

"Don't create a scene. Come and sit," Stuart replied, engrossed in his files, his tone clipped and business-like.

"You don't care about me, Stuart. I'm not important to you," the voice continued, occupying the sofa opposite his table, a silent plea for acknowledgment.

Unperturbed, Stuart read through his files, his eyes scanning the words on the documents before him. As the person knocked on his table, he asked irritably, "What do you want, Roy? Can't you see I'm working?"

"I want you to go to the gym. Camille, your lovely fiancée, asked me to bring you. She has a surprise prepared for you, I think," Roy conveyed, his words laced with a sense of obligation.

Suspicious, Stuart eyed him. "Don't look at me like that. This time, I'm telling the truth, or she will kill me," Roy assured, revealing the intricate dynamics of Stuart's personal life.

"I have urgent work. Tell her I can't come," Stuart asserted, his priorities clear despite the potential romantic gesture awaiting him.

"Come on, my friend. You're getting married. Please be reasonable. Even if you're not into marriage, consider her feelings," Roy implored, a rare display of vulnerability from a man usually so composed.

Setting aside his work, Stuart reluctantly agreed, "Wait for me. I'll finish this in two minutes," the compromise indicative of the delicate balance between personal and professional commitments.

On the way, Roy, a confidant and a friend advised him to be considerate of Camilla's feelings. "Tell me honestly, are you still thinking about her?" Roy asked, frustrated with the elusive nature of Stuart's emotions.

Stuart remained silent, the hum of the car engine providing a backdrop to the weighty conversation.

"Wake up from your dream. When did you last meet her? How well do you know her?" Roy continued, challenging the romanticized notions that seemed to cloud Stuart's judgment. "Stuart, you met her when you were just a year old. How can it be love at first sight? How long will you wait for a girl who doesn't exist in your life and hurt another girl deeply in love with you?"

Suddenly applying the brakes, Stuart narrowly avoided hitting a motorbike in front of them. Roy felt a pang of guilt for his weighty words, realizing the impact they carried.

"Ahhh," they heard a scream, prompting them to exit the car, the external chaos mirroring the internal turmoil.

A girl was on the road beside her damaged motorbike. Roy approached to help, but she refused any assistance, her independence shining through.

"Miss, are you okay? Do you need help?" Roy asked, his tone sincere and apologetic.

"Are you out of your mind? Can't you see I'm injured? What were you thinking while driving? Or were you drinking and driving?" she scolded, her assertiveness cutting through the tension.

"No, miss. We're sorry. Our fault for not paying attention to the road," Roy apologized, recognizing the gravity of their oversight.

"It's okay, but don't be careless again. You could also get in an accident and get hurt," she cautioned, a momentary lapse in her stern demeanor revealing a genuine concern for their well-being.

"Sure, we'll take you to the hospital and compensate for your bike," Roy offered a gesture of responsibility and an acknowledgment of the consequences of their actions.

"I don't want to go to the hospital now, but I need to get to a nearby place to deliver something," she explained, her commitment to her responsibilities unwavering.

"What a coincidence, we're heading there too," Roy said, looking at Stuart, who nodded, a silent agreement to accompany her.

The delivery girl accepted their assistance, the unexpected turn of events intertwining their paths. Roy, always the diplomat, introduced himself with a business card, a tangible symbol of credibility.

"I'm Roy Wills. Here's my business card. You can contact me after you know how much we have to compensate," Roy introduced, extending the card with a professional finesse.

"I'm Christi, a delivery girl," she responded briefly, her guarded demeanor revealing little about the enigmatic young woman.

As the trio proceeded together, Roy assumed the driver's seat, navigating the complex dynamics of the situation. Yet, amidst the evening shadows, questions lingered in Stuart's mind, the encounter with Christi and Roy's earlier words acting as a catalyst for introspection. The journey that began with the weight of familial obligations now took an unexpected turn, unveiling the complexities of love, duty, and the intricate dance of fate.