I Picked My Future Husband... From Blind Boxes

My name was Tabitha Cole, the only daughter of the Cole family, spoiled beyond measure.

I had seven adopted older brothers, and the third eldest, Karl Boone, was the most handsome and the one I had mustered the courage to tell my dad about my eagerness to marry.

After a long silence, my dad spoke. "Well, I respect your choice. Karl is capable and stable; he was always the best candidate. Once he returns, we'll throw you a grand wedding and make you the happiest bride in the world."

From that day forward, I began waiting.

My other brothers often teased me, saying that the once mischievous "little tyrant" who caused chaos had turned into an unshakeable "statue of longing".

I listened but didn't bother to glare at them. I wanted nothing but for Karl to return safely and sooner.

Whether he arrived riding a horse or in a beat-up car, I didn't care. I just wanted him to come back and marry me.

Two years passed in a flash.

"Miss, he's back. Mr. Boone is back!" reported the maid.

I jumped up and rushed to the living room, but she stopped me. "He's in the punishment cell."

I saw her worried expression, and a wave of unease washed over me.

"Alright." I hurried downstairs barefoot, oblivious to the sharp pain shooting through my ankle when it got twisted.

The atmosphere there was heavy, almost suffocating. My other six brothers were standing there silently, their faces grim.

I stopped running, my heart thumping wildly before sinking into cold dread. There, prostrated on the cold floor, was Karl Boone, drenched from head to toe.

At the head of the room sat my father, his face ashen and radiating a terrifying aura of fury.

My mind began to race. Securing the overseas market was a monumental achievement. Karl should have been in the main hall receiving praise. Yet there he was, messy like a drowned mouse.

According to our family rules, only those who had committed grave errors and needed to confess and face punishment were summoned here.

"Dad," I called out, drawing all eyes on me.

Dad's anger and heartbreak were boiling over, but he forced it down, asking dryly, "Tabitha, why are you here?"

"Karl's back, so I came to see him," I replied. "Why is he kneeling there? Our family's great contributor should be seated properly. Someone, help him up to a chair."