Chapter Four

The Whiter estate looked exactly as I’d left it twenty-four hours ago—imposing gates, manicured gardens, the sprawling mansion. Everything was perfect on the surface, just like always.

The front door opened before I reached it. My stepmother, Victoria Whiter, stood there, flawless as ever.

“Maddison,” she said, voice dripping with false concern. “Thank God you’re alive. We were so worried.”

Liar. If she’d been worried, she’d have called the police or organized a search.

“Where’s Father?” I asked, moving past her into the marble foyer.

“In his study. He’s been... upset. Jude came by this morning. He told us everything.”

I wondered if he mentioned how quickly he’d chosen Cassidy over me.

“I need to talk to Father,” I said.

“Maddison, wait—” Victoria reached for my arm, but I pulled away. She flinched. Good. Let her wonder what happened to me.

I found my father in his study, hunched over a tumbler of whiskey despite it being noon. Harrison Whiter had once been formidable, but years of Victoria’s influence had turned him into a shadow of the man my mother had married.

“Father,” I said from the doorway.

He looked up. For a moment, relief, then coldness, disappointment, maybe anger.

“Maddison. You’re home. Jude told us what happened.”

“I’m sure he did,” I said. “Did he tell you how he chose Cassidy over me?”

“He said there was no choice. Only one person could be saved.”

“And he chose her,” I said, hands trembling. “Without hesitation. Without doubt.”

Father took a  sip of whatever he had in his cup. “You’re being dramatic. Cassidy needed immediate attention.”

A bitter laugh escaped me. “I was thrown on a rooftop…” I stopped, swallowing the words. He wouldn’t care. “The wedding is off. I’m not marrying Jude Morrow.”

“You’re being selfish, ungrateful,” Father snapped. “After everything we’ve done for you, after the life we’ve given you.”

“The life Mother gave me,” I corrected. “Everything comes from her family, her money. You’ve just been spending it.”

His hand twitched, and I feared he might strike me.

Victoria swept in with my stepsister, Elise, trailing behind. Elise, three years younger, had competed for Father’s attention since Victoria married in.

“Harrison, darling, don’t upset yourself,” Victoria cooed. “Maddison’s been through a trauma.”

“I’m thinking perfectly clearly,” I said.

Victoria’s expression hardened. “If you won’t marry Jude, there’s another arrangement.”

Ice settled in my stomach. “What arrangement?”

“Gerald Whitmore has expressed interest in you,” Father said.

Blood drained from my face. Gerald Whitmore, sixty-seven, a notorious real estate mogul, collected young wives like cars. Rumors about him were ugly.

“You can’t be serious,” I whispered.

“Generous merger with your father’s company,” Victoria said smoothly. “It secures the Whiter family for another generation.”

“You’re selling me,” I said flatly. “To that monster.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Elise said. “Gerald Whitmore is respected. You should be grateful.”

“I won’t do it,” I said. “You can’t force me.

Father’s face went cold. “Then you leave with nothing. No money, no support, no access to your mother’s trust. You’ll be cut off completely.”

“You have one week,” Victoria said. “Marry Gerald Whitmore, or lose everything.”

I didn’t respond. I walked through the house, out the front door, down the driveway. My hands shook. My chest felt tight. I couldn’t go back. I couldn’t marry Gerald Whitmore. But I had nowhere to go, no money, no one to turn to.

I was utterly alone.

A few minutes later, a black sedan swerved to avoid hitting a woman crossing the street. The car clipped her. She stumbled and collapsed.

Without thinking, I ran to her. Others watched, phones out, but no one helped. That was Notch City.

“Ma’am?” I knelt beside her. “Can you hear me?”

She was elderly, in her seventies, dressed expensively. Blood trickled from a cut on her forehead.

“I’m... I’m alright,” she murmured.

“Don’t move. You might have injuries.” Her head wound was superficial. Nothing seemed broken, but she could have internal injuries.

I called an ambulance and soon sirens wailed in the distance.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Grace. Grace Chen.”

“Grace, I’m Maddison. The ambulance is almost here. You’ll be fine.”

Her eyes focused on me. “You’re very kind. Not many would stop these days.”

“Anyone would,” I said, though we both knew it wasn’t true.

Paramedics arrived, loaded her onto a stretcher. Grace caught my hand.

“Will you come to the hospital? I don’t want to be alone.”

“Of course,” I said. I didn’t really have anywhere to go.

At the hospital, Grace was propped up, more alert. Bandaged and bruised, she smiled warmly.

“Maddison,” she said. “You stayed.”

“I said I would. How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a car,” she said dryly. “Old age isn’t for the faint of heart.”

Lily, a woman in her mid-thirties, rushed in.

“Grandmother! Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. This young woman saved me,” Grace said.

Lily turned to me, tears in her eyes. “Thank you so much.”

“You don’t need to thank me.”

Grace studied me. “You’re troubled. Something happened to you.”

“I’m fine,” I lied.

“You’re a terrible liar,” she said. “Are you married?”

“No. I was engaged, but that’s over.”

“Good. If he let you go, he doesn’t deserve you.”

Lily smiled. “Grandmother meddles. Fair warning.”

“I’m old. Meddling is one of my pleasures.”

“Would you like to marry my grandson?” Grace asked.

I blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“My grandson. Thirty-two, successful, handsome. You saved my life. I want him to marry you.”

This was insane. But at least it wasn’t Gerald Whitmore.

“He doesn’t know yet,” Grace said.

“I... I need to think,” I said. What did I have to lose? I was already facing a forced marriage. At least this was a choice.

“Take your time,” Grace said. “But not too long. You’re running out of it.”

One week. That was all.

---

William Chen stood outside Room 412, jaw tight. Grace Chen, his grandmother, was the only person who’d supported him fully. Seeing her hurt, possibly dying, terrified him.

“Grandmother,” he said, moving to her bedside. Relief flooded him, bandaged forehead, bruising, nothing serious.

“I was hit by a car,” she said. “A young woman saved me. She’s beautiful, kind, intelligent, and needs a husband.”

“Grandmother—”

“Marry her.”

William looked at Lily. “A stranger. A woman you met today.”

“She’s special,” Grace said. “And you need a life outside work. Someone kind. Someone who needs help like you do.”

He thought of his mother, trapped in a business marriage. He wouldn’t let this happen again.

“If I do this, clear terms, boundaries. Marriage in name only. She gets protection, access to resources. I get peace of mind, maybe penance for those I couldn’t save.”

“You get a wife who won’t control you,” Grace said.

William nodded. “I need to think.”

“She’s coming tomorrow. City hall. No pressure. Just a conversation.”

-

City Hall.

William arrived early, having researched Maddison Whiter. Twenty-six, literature graduate, no scandals. Engaged to Jude Morrow until recently, the night he’d rescued her from a warehouse.

The front doors opened. She stepped through. Steel in her shoulders, determination in her eyes.

“You’re Grace’s grandson,” she said.

“I am. William Chen. Boss of Black Herd.”

“You’re the man who saved me.”

“Yes,” he admitted.

“Did you know?”

“No. I didn’t connect the dots until after I agreed.”

She laughed sharply. “Of course. The man who pulled me off a rooftop ends up my arranged marriage prospect. Fate or the universe laughing?”

“Maybe both.”

Her desperation mingled with defiance.

“Terms in writing. Clear boundaries. I won’t be trapped,” she said.

“Agreed. Lawyers involved. Access to your own money. Divorce anytime, no contest.”

“I want your word.”

“To those I care about? Everything.”

She extended her hand. “Alright. Let’s get married.”

They entered the clerk’s office, applied for the license. Waiting period waived.

Ceremony brief, private.

“I do,” they said to each other.

Mr. and Mrs. Chen.

They left the city hall.

“Now?” she asked.

“Now, I take you home. Penthouse. Introduce reality. Figure out how to make this work.”

She laughed. “From a forced marriage to a predator to a billionaire CEO. My life is strange.”

“It’ll get stranger,” William warned. “Complications. Enemies. Media. My father won’t approve.”

“I just escaped my own controlling family. Your father can get in line.”

“You’re tougher than you look,” he said.

“I have to be.”

They got into his car. Notch City rolled past the windows. She’d been ready to fall before. Now she was taking a different leap, trusting a stranger.

William glanced at her. “Welcome to the family.”

“Thank you. I guess.”

Something shifted in both of them. Maybe this strange, transactional marriage could become something better. Something worth choosing.