Chapter 29

Chapter 28

Kent’s Pov

My hands grip the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turn completely white as I speed down the dark, empty highway toward my family's house.

I cannot understand it. For my entire life, I have been trained to keep my emotions locked away. I control my temper, I control my words, and I always follow the rules my family sets for me. Yet, one brief hour with Daniella at that dingy diner completely destroys every single wall I built. Her sad eyes, her trembling voice, and the way she almost told me something huge before running away keep replaying in my mind over and over again.

When I finally pull my car into the massive, stone-paved driveway of my family’s estate, my stomach feels sick.

Tonight is the formal family dinner. Tonight is the night my grandfather and parents are officially announcing my engagement to Freya to the high-society world. A few minutes later, I am walking through the grand double doors of the dining room, stepping into a room filled with bright crystal chandeliers, expensive silver silverware, and people in loud, fake clothes talking about money and power.

Freya sees me walk in and instantly walks over, her arm sliding possessively around mine like a chain. She is wearing a blinding white dress that looks like a wedding gown already.

"You're late, Kent," Freya says, her voice sweet for the guests to hear, but her eyes are sharp and cold. "Everyone is waiting. My father is about to make the toast."

"Traffic was bad," I lie smoothly, pulling my arm away from her grip just enough to keep some space between us.

We sit down at the long mahogany table. The dinner feels like a slow, painful trap. Throughout the meal, Freya keeps touching my shoulder, smiling at the guests, and loudly referring to herself as my future wife. Across the table, her father smiles like a businessman who just closed a major deal, talking loudly about how our upcoming marriage will combine our family empires and make us untouchable.

I sit there with a stiff, fake smile plastered on my face. But inside, I am screaming. Every time Freya touches my hand or calls me her husband-to-be, I compare it to the simple, real ease I feel when I am sitting next to Daniella in a sticky diner booth. Freya is all cold plastic and expensive perfume. Daniella is warm, breathing, and real.

I don't touch my food. I just push the green beans around my plate while my brain races with what Daniella almost told me at the diner. She was going to tell me something important. I can feel it in my bones.

"Smile, Kent," Freya whispers sharply under her breath, leaning in close so her sharp perfume burns my nose. "You look like you're attending a funeral, not your own engagement party."

"It's a long week," I mutter, staring straight ahead.

After what feels like a lifetime of endless courses and fake laughter, the guests finally move into the grand parlor for champagne. Freya pulls me away from the crowd, dragging me into a quiet, shadowed hallway near the back stairs. The minute we are out of sight, her sweet mask drops instantly.

"What is wrong with you tonight?" Freya snaps, crossing her arms over her chest. Her eyes narrow as she glares up at me. "You haven't looked at me once. You haven't smiled. Is there someone else?"

My heart gives a heavy, dangerous thud against my ribs, but I force my face to stay completely blank. "Don't be ridiculous, Freya."

"Don't lie to me!" she hisses, stepping closer. "People are talking, Kent. My friends saw you leaving the university parking lot late last week. They saw you talking to a student. That poor, messy girl from your literature class—Daniella."

The air leaves my lungs all at once. For a second, I think I stopped breathing. But I force my voice to stay cold and level.

"You are listening to silly gossip," I say, looking down at her with pure ice in my eyes. "Stop worrying about rumors, Freya, and focus on the agreement we both know exists. We are getting married for business. End of story."

Before she can answer back, heavy footsteps echo behind us in the hallway.

We both turn around. My grandfather is standing there. He is an old man, but he still looks like a giant predator, with iron-gray hair and cold, calculating eyes that have run our family business for fifty years. He looks at Freya first, then turns his heavy gaze onto me.

"Freya, leave us," my grandfather says smoothly.

Freya shoots me one last angry, poisonous look before she turns around and walks back toward the noisy parlor.

When we are completely alone, my grandfather steps closer to me. His face is like stone.

"I hear whispers, Kent," my grandfather says, his low, gravelly voice echoing in the quiet hallway. "And I don't like whispers. You signed the contract. Your father signed it. Our company’s future depends on this union with Freya’s family."

"I know the contract, Grandfather," I say quietly.

"Do you?" he asks, narrowing his eyes. "Let me remind you of what happens if you break it. You lose your position at the firm, you lose your inheritance, and your family is left with nothing. You have no room to escape this marriage, Kent. Not with that girl. Not with anyone else. Keep your head down, do your duty, and play your part."

He turns around and walks away, leaving me standing alone in the cold hallway. His words hang in the air like a heavy iron cage, locking me in place.

I pull my phone out of my suit pocket, feeling completely trapped by my family, by the contract, and by a life I never wanted.

Just as I stare at the dark screen, it lights up brightly in my hand.

A new message from Daniella.

My fingers tremble slightly as I unlock the phone and open it.

Kent, I'm sorry to bother you so late. I've been feeling really sick again tonight. I can't stop throwing up, and my head is spinning. I'm scared.

Looking down at her words, every warning my grandfather just gave me vanishes into thin air. Every threat about the contract, the family business, and losing my inheritance completely disappears from my mind.

Despite everything my family just threatened me with, and despite the fact that I am trapped in a rich man's cage, my very first instinct is to drop everything, walk out of this house, and go straight to her.