Chapter Two: Visitor

      I sat at my desk, staring blankly into space. I hadn't slept a wink last night, my mind constantly replaying what Dad had said. I was so lost in thought that I didn't even notice his secretary approaching or even calling my name.

"Ma'am Freya! I've been waiting for you in the conference room!" she said, finally waving her hand right in front of my face.

"Oh! I'm sorry, Trisha."

"Are you alright, Ma'am? I was standing right here and you didn't see me at all..."

"I'm fine. Let's just go to the conference room," I cut her off, not wanting to discuss it.

I was just about to leave when my phone suddenly rang. I picked it up immediately, but since the number was unknown, I decided to hang up and left it lying on my desk.

After the meeting, I came back to the office and was surprised to see an unexpected visitor waiting there.

“Trisha, what is he doing here?" I asked, annoyed.

"I didn't want to let him in at first, Ma'am, but he insisted so much," she replied, giggling and trying to look sweet.

"Seriously, Trisha! You are well aware of our company rules, don’t you?” I scolded her.

"Don't blame your secretary. Actually, it's your fault I'm here right now," he said seriously.

"Ma'am, I'll leave you two alone. You seem to have some serious LQ going on!" Trisha joked, making my blood boil even more.

"LQ? As in Lovers' Quarrel? And who told you this 'Mr. Thief' is my boyfriend?" I asked sarcastically, shooting her a sharp glare.

"Tsk! It's okay, Trish. I'll handle this. Just give us some privacy," the arrogant man said, acting like he was already best friends with my secretary.

"What are you doing here, Mr. Thief?" I scoffed. "And how did you find me? Oh right! You're not just a thief, you're a stalker too!"

"Can you please just shut up for one minute, brat?" he snapped. I glared at him but fell silent. He stepped closer and grabbed my shoulders firmly.

"Why are you here? What do you want? Money?" I shouted, terrified and appalled by his behavior.

"You! I need you, Miss Freya!" he declared, staring straight into my eyes. His words sent a shiver down my spine.

"Yesterday, my lawyer went to the police station, but you were gone. And the police told me your wallet was never actually stolen. So? Do you not intend to apologize for falsely accusing me?" he demanded. His grip on my shoulders tightened even more.

"Ouch! You're hurting me!" I cried out, but he didn't let go.

"Will you please stop calling me, thief? I am Dylan Anderson! I am not a thief!" he snapped.

"You will regret this if you don't apologize for the embarrassment and trouble you caused me yesterday," he warned seriously.

"So what if I refuse to apologize? What are you going to do about it?" I challenged him stubbornly.

"Fine. But don't you dare come begging to me later," he said in a low voice, almost a whisper, before finally releasing me.

"W-what do you mean?" I asked him, confused.

He let out a laugh and stared at me from head to toe.

"I admit it, you are stunning. You have the looks and the body, and your hair is gorgeous… you look like a perfect doll. But it seems like beauty is all you have," he criticized harshly. "You have a foul mouth, a murderous glare, and your attitude is a trash!"

"Oh please, Mr. Thief! You are the problem here!" I argued. "How can you call yourself a man when all you do is insult people? Tss!"

"We can discuss that in court, Miss Miller."

"What? You don't mean to say that—"

"Yes! It's my turn now. I'm taking you to the police station. And, I will sue you for defamation and false accusations!" His voice was laced with irritation as he turned his back on me.

"Hey, wait a minute!" I shouted, but he acted as if he couldn't hear a thing and just walked straight out of my office.

      WHEN the clock struck five, I slowly packed my things, dreading the thought of going home. I knew Dad would just start pressuring me again to accept that arranged marriage.

I paused and sat back down, trying to figure out how to calm my nerves. But before I could even get comfortable, my phone rang—it was Mom.

"Mom?" I answered with a heavy sigh, bracing myself for what she was going to say.

"Come home early. Your dad prepared a nice dinner because his friend's son is coming over tonight. You need to be there to meet him," she said.

"What? Mom, tell me Dad was just joking about this marriage thing, right?" I asked nervously.

"Your father is very serious, Freya. We have no choice but to follow. It’s for your own good too, honey," she tried to sound gentle.

"No!" I snapped, my voice rising in frustration. "It’s only for Dad's sake, Mom! Not mine!"

"Honey, let's just talk at home, please."

I stayed silent and hung up, letting the feeling of despair sink in.

I was forced to drive home despite my reluctance. My imagination ran wild as I thought about this mysterious man.

"What kind of monster is he?" I’m worried. "What if he is violent? What if I end up being beaten and mistreated just to save the company? And what if he looks horrible?" Fear gripped me the entire way.

As soon as I stepped inside the house, mom rushed over beaming. "Oh, thank goodness you're here!" she exclaimed, trying to kiss me. However, I turned away coldly, refusing to acknowledge her excitement.

"I'm going to my room. I'm exhausted," I told her, ignoring how her expression fell.

"Freya, please! They will be here soon. You have to be here to meet him!" Mom pleaded.

"I spent the whole day managing the business, Mom. Can I not have even a moment of peace? I will join you later," I said coldly.

"Okay, okay... I'll call you when they get here," she sighed.

I didn't respond and just walked straight to my room, flopping onto the bed. I tried to sleep, but my mind wouldn't stop. I kept imagining what my future husband might look like, and the thoughts terrified me. I was scared of what lay ahead. I wasn't ready to get married. I wasn't ready to be someone's wife.

Half an hour passed, I heard my mom knocking, telling me to go down for dinner. I guess the guests had arrived.

I didn't make an effort at all. I kept my uniform on, left my hair messy, and didn't touch a comb. I deliberately wanted to look unattractive and unappealing. If he saw me like this, surely, he would reject me.

I even sniffed my clothes… they smelled a bit like sweat. Perfect! I was sure he would be disgusted.

I walked slowly into the dining room... but I froze the moment I saw who was standing there.

The man my parents chose for me to marry... was the very same man I accused of being a thief!

We stared at each other in complete shock as I took the seat opposite him.

"Mister Thief?" I spat.

"Miss Spoiled Brat?" he retorted.

We rolled our eyes in unison.

I felt like the whole world was playing a cruel joke on me. Out of billions of men in this world, why did Dad have to choose him?