Chapter four

I spent most of the following morning preparing for dinner at the Rourke residence.

It wasn't that I was particularly worried about meeting Damian's grandmother. I simply understood that the woman could play an important role in determining whether our marriage arrangement would succeed.

And if Damian was anything like the man I remembered, his grandmother was probably one of the few people capable of influencing his decisions.

At ten o'clock, Ethan sent me a message containing the address and the time of the dinner.

Ethan Cole: Good morning, Miss Summers. Mr. Rourke has asked me to remind you that dinner will be at 7 p.m. Please let me know if you require transportation.

I replied politely.

Chloe: Thank you, Ethan. I'll arrange my own transportation.

I put my phone down and returned to my wardrobe.

I selected a simple but elegant wine-red gown. It hugged my figure without revealing too much, and its modest neckline gave it the sophisticated appearance I wanted.

I wasn't going there to impress Damian with expensive clothes.

I was going there as a woman who knew her worth.

---

At exactly 6:50 p.m., my car pulled up in front of the Rourke mansion.

The property was enormous.

Tall iron gates opened automatically, revealing a beautifully maintained garden and a long driveway lined with trees. The mansion itself was a magnificent combination of modern architecture and classical elegance.

I stepped out of the car and adjusted my dress.

A uniformed attendant approached.

“Good evening, Miss. Are you expected?”

“Yes. I'm here to see Mr. Damian Rourke.”

“Certainly. Please come this way.”

He led me through the main entrance.

The interior was breathtaking. A crystal chandelier hung above the grand staircase, while expensive paintings decorated the walls.

My eyes lingered on one particular painting.

It was an original masterpiece by a European artist whose work I recognised immediately.

I smiled.

Even billionaires had good taste.

“Miss Summers.”

I turned.

Damian stood at the bottom of the staircase.

He wore a dark navy suit, his shirt open at the collar. His expression was calm, but his eyes briefly travelled over my dress.

“You're punctual.”

“I was invited for seven.”

“Most people consider that a suggestion.”

“Then perhaps most people need to learn how to respect other people's time.”

A faint smile appeared on his face.

“Come. My grandmother is waiting.”

He extended his arm.

I looked at it briefly before accepting.

As we walked toward the dining room, I caught a glimpse of a woman sitting near the fireplace.

She appeared to be in her late sixties, with silver hair styled elegantly and an expression that suggested she missed very little.

She looked up as we entered.

“So this is the young woman who has managed to make my grandson rearrange his schedule.”

Damian sighed.

“Grandmother.”

The woman laughed.

“Don't look at me like that. You know it's true.”

She turned toward me.

“Come closer, dear.”

I stepped forward.

“Good evening, ma'am. It's a pleasure to meet you.”

She examined me for a moment before smiling.

“I'm Margaret Rourke. And please, call me Margaret.”

“It's lovely to meet you, Margaret.”

She took my hands.

“You're very beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“And you look rather confident.”

I smiled.

“I try to be.”

Margaret laughed.

“I like her already.”

Damian shook his head.

“Can we have dinner now?”

“Impatient as always,” she muttered.

---

Dinner was served in an elegant dining room.

Margaret sat at one end of the table, Damian beside her, and I took the seat opposite him.

For the first few minutes, we discussed ordinary things.

My education.

My family.

My interests.

Then Margaret placed her cutlery down.

“Now, Chloe, I want to ask you something.”

I looked up.

“Of course.”

“Why do you want to marry my grandson?”

I had expected the question.

“Because I believe we can build a mutually beneficial partnership.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“A partnership?”

“Yes.”

“And you don't love him?”

I glanced briefly at Damian.

“No, ma'am. I barely know him.”

Margaret turned toward her grandson.

“Did you hear that? At least she's honest.”

Damian continued eating.

“I'm aware.”

Margaret returned her attention to me.

“Most young women would do anything to marry a man like Damian. He's wealthy, handsome, and powerful. Yet you're sitting here telling me you don't love him.”

I smiled.

“Love isn't something I can promise to someone I've just met.”

“Very sensible.”

She took a sip of water.

“However, marriage is not always as simple as two people signing an agreement. There are expectations, responsibilities, and difficult moments. Are you prepared for that?”

“Yes.”

“Even if my grandson is difficult?”

I glanced at Damian.

“I'm beginning to understand that part.”

Margaret burst into laughter.

Damian looked unimpressed.

“Grandmother, are you interviewing my future wife or trying to discourage her?”

“Both.”

I couldn't help laughing.

For the first time since arriving, the atmosphere felt comfortable.

Margaret seemed warm, but beneath her friendly personality, I sensed a sharp mind.

She wasn't easily fooled.

---

After dinner, Margaret suggested that Damian show me the garden.

He looked as though he wanted to object, but eventually stood.

“Come on.”

I followed him through the glass doors.

The garden was illuminated by small lights, and a fountain stood at its centre.

For a while, neither of us spoke.

Then Damian broke the silence.

“My grandmother likes you.”

“Is that surprising?”

“Very.”

I smiled.

“Should I be worried?”

“Not unless she starts planning our wedding without informing us.”

I laughed.

“Does she do that?”

“She has done worse.”

We stopped beside the fountain.

Damian placed his hands in his pockets.

“She asked me something before you arrived.”

“What?”

“Whether I intended to marry you.”

I turned toward him.

“And what did you say?”

“That I was considering it.”

I nodded.

“That's fair.”

He studied me.

“Why are you so determined to marry me?”

I sighed.

“Do we have to keep repeating this conversation?”

“Yes.”

I looked at him.

“Because I need a fresh start.”

His expression changed slightly.

“A fresh start?”

“My family has expectations for my life that I no longer wish to fulfil. I want to build my career without interference, and I need a partner who understands independence.”

“And you think marriage to me will provide that?”

“I believe it could.”

He stepped closer.

“You're asking me to become part of your life, Chloe. That means I have a right to understand what I'm getting involved in.”

It was the first time he had called me by my first name.

I looked away briefly.

“I understand.”

“Then tell me something about your family.”

I hesitated.

“My family isn't particularly close.”

“Why?”

“Because I've spent most of my life feeling like an outsider in my own home.”

He said nothing.

I continued.

“My father remarried after my mother died. My stepmother has a daughter, Pearl. Everyone seems to believe Pearl deserves more attention than I do.”

“Does that bother you?”

“It used to.”

“And now?”

I looked directly at him.

“Now I simply want to live my life.”

He studied my face, perhaps searching for something I wasn't ready to reveal.

“Very well.”

Then he said something unexpected.

“You should know that I don't tolerate dishonesty.”

My heartbeat quickened.

“I don't either.”

“Good. Because if we're going to do this, I expect honesty between us.”

I nodded.

“Agreed.”

He extended his hand.

“Then perhaps we should stop treating this like a business negotiation.”

I stared at his hand before placing mine in it.

“Perhaps.”

His grip was firm but gentle.

For a brief moment, neither of us moved.

Then he released my hand.

“Let's go inside.”

---

When I returned home, the lights in the sitting room were still on.

My father was seated on the sofa, while my mother stood near the fireplace.

Pearl was beside them.

The moment I entered, all three looked up.

“Where have you been?” my father demanded.

I removed my handbag from my shoulder.

“Out.”

“Don't answer me like that.”

I sighed.

“Good evening, Father.”

He stood.

“James came here again. He says you've been ignoring his calls.”

“Then he should stop calling.”

My mother shook her head.

“Chloe, what has gotten into you?”

“Nothing.”

Pearl stepped forward.

“Chloe, we're only worried about you.”

I looked at her.

“Are you?”

She lowered her eyes.

“Of course. You're my sister.”

I almost laughed.

My sister.

The same woman who would eventually steal my identity and watch me die.

I walked past her.

“I'm tired. Goodnight.”

My father slammed his hand against the table.

“You are not leaving until you explain your behaviour!”

I stopped.

“Explain what?”

“Your rejection of James. Your attitude toward this family. And where you've been going every day!”

I turned slowly.

“I've done nothing wrong.”

“Then why are you hiding things from us?”

I looked at Pearl, then at my parents.

“Perhaps because not everything in my life belongs to this family.”

My mother gasped.

My father pointed toward me.

“Whatever nonsense you're planning, I will not allow you to bring shame to this household.”

I smiled coldly.

“Then I suggest you stop worrying about my decisions and start worrying about your own.”

I climbed the stairs without waiting for their response.

---

In my bedroom, I found a message from Ethan.

Ethan Cole: Good evening, Miss Summers. Mr. Rourke would like to know whether you arrived home safely.

I smiled slightly.

Chloe: Yes, I arrived safely. Please thank him for me.

A few seconds later, another message appeared.

Ethan Cole: Certainly. Also, Mr. Rourke asked me to inform you that his legal team will contact your lawyer tomorrow.

My heart lifted.

Things were finally moving forward.

I placed my phone on the bedside table and walked toward the window.

Tomorrow could bring a new beginning.

But before I could celebrate, another message arrived.

This time, it was from the unknown number that had contacted me the previous day.

Unknown: Enjoy your evening with the Rourkes, Chloe. You have no idea what you're getting yourself into.

My smile disappeared.

I read the message twice.

Whoever was behind the number knew I had attended dinner.

They knew about Damian.

And they seemed determined to frighten me.

I typed a reply.

Chloe: Stop hiding behind an unknown number. If you have something to say, say it to my face.

The message was delivered.

No response followed.

I stared at the screen, my mind racing.

Was someone trying to prevent my marriage to Damian?

Or was this connected to something far more dangerous?

I remembered the mystery surrounding his father's death.

In my previous life, the case had never been solved.

Could the person watching me have something to do with the Rourke family?

I couldn't be certain.

But one thing was clear.

My second chance was already becoming more complicated than I had expected.

I switched off my phone and sat on the edge of my bed.

Tomorrow, Damian's legal team would contact my lawyer.

Our marriage arrangement was getting closer to becoming reality.

And whoever was trying to frighten me would soon discover that threats would not make me run.

I had already lost everything once.

This time, I had too much to reclaim.

I wasn't going to let anyone stand in my way.