Three

Chapter 3

### SILVA'S  POV

A sickening smile crept onto my lips at his words. I peered at him, staring behind the mask of depression and sadness he wore.

Blackmail?

He was either too weak in his brain to delude himself with such a thought of pulling my strings with that act, or my actions must have made him think I cared.

"I will ensure you have a peaceful funeral," I spoke, with a grin, as he hissed.

"Bloody brat!" he roared. "You will marry. You have no choice."

"That's where you are fucking wrong. I do. I will never marry her."

"You will."

I spun around, striding toward the door. "The doctor will be here by 12 to check that liver of yours."

"You will marry her, Silva."

"Over my dead body."

---

### KIARA'S POV

"Schedule a meeting with them by 12," I said, glancing through one of the many heaps of files that crowded my table, nose buried in the book as I read in between the lines.

Securing a deal with the Russians was a perfect lane to strive to the top, a contract that would open so many freaking doors. But I wasn't a fool to sign their contract without reading every line. They weren't named the brutal industrialist for nothing, nor was I named the smartest and best for nothing.

No matter how intriguing the idea of being at the top was, I had to tread carefully. One little mistake and I am left with nothing but ashes of my company. And I refuse to let what I spent years building be submerged in nothingness.

"Ma'am."

I hummed a response, pondering on the clauses of the contract.

"The Russians suggested we host a party to announce their partnership."

"Partnership? I prefer the term 'contributions.' I work alone."

"Yes, you do, but they are also contributing..." She emphasized the word, hinting at her little disapproval of it. "They do own a little share in it."

"Indeed, they do. All we need is their name to merge us into the Russian market. They know that too. The only reason they agreed is they knew we had potential."

"Okay. No party?"

"Definitely no. We are just in the planning phase. We can't shove our ideas into the world." I do my work in the dark and let my achievements take the spotlight.

"The..."

"They will understand. This is business. One wrong move and everything flips. I can't freaking take that risk, not when I am so close to the top."

"Okay, ma'am." I paused, dragging my gaze off the file and the lady who stood opposite, fitted in a black suit, her long black hair clipped to the side, revealing her baby face. She looked more like a baby than a baby would look; thankfully, her brain wasn't the same story. She was sharp, smart, thrived under pressure and loved to lighten the office with her words.

"What is it, Linda?"

"Uh, I thought this would break history. 'New York's Ice Queen bags a contract with the brutal industrialist days after her three awards.' Groundbreaking. The news channel will blow up with this news, and we will double our interest, be known worldwide."

She does have a point. It wasn't a 50-50. It was a hundred. "But what comes after?" I asked as she went quiet.

"Uh... popularity."

"Nope. More competitors. A thousand companies would come after us, trying their level best to bring us down. They will infuriate us. I do like a good competition, but I don't need such distraction, neither do I have the time. Not now." She nodded. "The Russians should understand this too. They are..." I stopped at the buzzing sound of my phone.

"Mom?" I whispered. I wondered why she was calling. Probably to tell me I have a child, which I should also wait for.

I slid the answer button, placing the phone against my ear.

"How are you, darling?"

"What is it?"

"I really want to see you." I drummed my fingers against the glass desk. "Darling, I am serious."

"When?"

"By 12."

"I have a meeting. I can't..."

"Darling, please."

I turned to Linda. "Cancel my meetings."

"Will you come? Home."

I hated myself for what I would do next, but I couldn't help it. She is my mother. "Yes, I will." She hung up as I grabbed my bag, with the file in my other hand. "The production team should be ready by 10 tomorrow. No excuses."

"Yes, ma'am."

I left.

The drive from my office to the mansion was barely 20 minutes, enough reasons why Father would barge into the company to "check up" on things.

More like monitor.

I parked the car in the driveway, slipped out, and headed toward the gigantic mansion that stood far away. Unlike the last time I came here, I took a detailed look at it. Even after the years, its beauty still remained intact.

My blue heels clicked against the white tile which ran through the sitting room, blending with the white and spotted back couch, a mini statue seated at each one.

"Darling." I snapped out of my thoughts, staring at my mother. She had her normal sweet smile as she approached me. "You came?"

"Of course." She leaned in for a hug.

"Thank you." We headed to the chairs and sat while she remained mute. "About yesterday..."

"You could have called. You could have told me it was a lie." Hell, I was going crazy with the thought of losing you.

I swallowed that last part, unwilling to show an ounce of weakness.

"I know. I'm sorry, but..." Excuses. "I wanted to see you. I have been calling you for the past three years."

"We met on occasions....."

"But I wanted you here with me. I..."

"I understand, Mother." I didn't, but I hated how I made her feel helpless and defenseless. "You called?"

"I wanted to talk to you about your father and the marriage. I know he may sound angry at you, but he does care. He did try to stop this wedding. He did, but..."

"But he couldn't." I thinned my lips then continued. "You know what Father always said. It is not the dedication, or hard work, or thought that matters. It's the results. He failed. And I am not marrying that..."

"You don't have to." I shifted my gaze to the source of the voice. Father stepped in, looking like he had the hardest day of his life.

Wait... did he just say I don't have to? "I don't?" I asked.

"Yes. Silva Blackwood called off the wedding."

"What?" I should be thankful to that arrogant man, but all I felt was anger.

"He said he would rather die than marry our daughter." My blood turned cold.

"Rather die than marry me?" I laughed, not a genuine one. "What the hell does he mean by that?"

"He rejected you! Only God knows what you did to him."

"Rejected me? Who the freaking hell does he think he is? Reject me? I am Kiara Monera. I don't get rejected. I freaking do the rejection. I am irresistible, the best. I am everything he desires but can never have. So how dare he say no to the proposal?" I barked.

"I thought you didn't want to get married to him," Mother said, worried.

"Of course I don't. I loathe him, but that's because I am the best and he is not. How dare he reject me?"

"Can you stop whining?! The marriage is canceled. Your shouting wouldn't fix anything."

"It will, Father. I can't believe he dared reject me." I scoffed. "Arrogant and self-centered bastard."

"Darling, calm down."

"I am." Truly. I would drive down to his silly office and smack him across his stupid face.

"You can..."

"Goodbye, Mother." I grabbed my purse and file and walked off. "And Father, tell him I said even if he was the last man on earth, I would die a million deaths rather than even think of marrying him." I stormed out.

Exactly what I needed.

---

### SILVA'S POV

"If we face the north region, our product is their every need. We..."

"According to the chart, the South is in desperate need of it. Packaging or not, they would gobble it up. So why then did you say North?" My fingers clicked against the desk while I awaited his answer. He gulped down in fear, shaking in his pants.

"Sir, well, the North is more civilized. Our product will gain massive fame there."

"And what about profit?"

"I... I..." The door busted open as the last person I expected to see walked in, disrupting the meeting.

"Leave us," Grandfather spoke, and they scurried out in fear.

"To what do I owe this visit?"

"What did you tell the innocent girl?"

"What innocent girl?"

"Your bride."

Fuck! I have been trying hard to erase her from my memory, which I had been successful at until he decided to speak about her.

"She is not my bride, and I didn't say anything to her."

"You did, because she called off the wedding."

"She what?"

"She said she would rather die than marry you." My fist clenched.

"What the fuck does she mean? Is she rejecting me?" I scoffed. "Impossible. I am Silva Blackwood, everyone's heartthrob, the king of perfection, the kind of man she spent all night praying for. There is no way..."

"She did! You told her something."

"I didn't, nor do I care to. I know her kind. She must have said such to play hard to get, to make us beg her."

Bullshit!

"Fix what you did, Silva."

"I didn't..."

"I don't care. You must marry her." He breathed out, turned, and headed to the door before I spoke.

"I will not marry such an egotistic and self-deluding CEO."

"We will see about that."

Kiara freaking Monera. You really are playing with the wrong person.

---

### ONE MONTH LATER

### KIARA'S POV

"Aunty, Chuck pulled my hair." The little cutie whined, rubbing her hair. I turned my gaze to Chuck, who was stuffing his face with candy.

"Chuck!"

"I'm sorry, Aunt."

"Apologize to her, not me."

"Sorry, Belle."

"Kiara."

"Maria." I came up to her as she smiled warmly.

"The children have something for you."

"Really?"

"Yes." Belle giggled and ran off to join the other kids.

"It's really beautiful..." Maria said, gazing at the kids who played merrily on the field. "...what you are doing for these orphans. Thanks."

"No need to thank me," I mumbled. "I am doing this for myself. I'm selfish."

My relationship with these orphanages was complex. I loved it because it felt like home. Staying, laughing, and being with these kids felt warm. It felt like I belonged somewhere. And sometimes I hate being here; it reminds me that I was like them, alone, with no one to truly call their own. Today was one of those days I felt I belonged. I needed this, especially with the heavy pressure and nausea I had been feeling.

"Aunty." Belle peered at me, tapping my hands with her little hands. "Take."

"Thank you." I took the piece of cake, ready to munch on it before its scent penetrated my nostrils, flipping my stomach. I ignored it, ready to take a bite before it swirled out of control. I held my mouth and ran off, emptying my stomach at the nearest flower pot.

Fuck! Workload must be affecting my taste buds.

"Kiara." The elder woman called out, worried.

"Maria, I'm fine. Just work, I think."

"I don't think that's it."

"Huh?" I blinked, wiping my hands over my lips.

"Kiara," she called out affectionately.

"What happened?"

"You are pregnant."