CHAPTER 6- PRESSURE

~ Adrian ~

I didn’t even realize how hard I slammed the door until the sound bounced back at me. The sturdy oak doors of the dining room shook on their hinges, but I couldn’t care less. My father’s words still rang in my ears, each one a chain he tried to wrap around my neck.

Engaged? To Isabella? Without even a word to me?

My footsteps echoed on the marble floor as I strode down the long hallway. The maids I passed quickly looked away, retreating into the walls as if they were afraid of being caught up in my storm.

I needed some fresh air.

I pushed through the glass doors at the end of the corridor and stepped out onto the garden terrace. The night air was cooler, a welcome relief from the stuffy atmosphere inside. I pressed my palms against the stone railing, leaning forward until my breathing steadied.

For years, I had followed my father’s orders without a second thought. I took the family business and pushed it higher, faster, stronger than he ever imagined. I tripled our assets in less than a decade. But apparently, none of that mattered if I wasn’t also a puppet in my personal life.

I dragged a hand down my face, muttering, “Engaged… just like that.”

“Adrian.”

The voice came from behind me. I tensed but didn’t turn around. Of course, she followed me. Isabella.

Her heels clicked against the stone tiles as she approached. She always walked like she owned every space she entered—poised, confident, breathtaking. My childhood friend. My parents adored her. My father saw her as the perfect daughter-in-law.

But I didn’t. Not like that.

“You didn’t have to storm out like that,” Isabella said, her tone calm. “You embarrassed both families.”

I turned then, my jaw tight. “Did you know?”

Her gaze faltered for just a moment before locking back onto mine. “Yes.”

I let out a dry laugh. "Of course, you did. And you agreed to it."

"It’s not just about agreeing," she shot back quickly. "It’s about what’s best for us. Our families have always wanted this. You know that."

I stepped closer, lowering my voice. "And what about what I want, Isabella?"

She flinched a bit but held her ground. That was her strength—she wasn’t delicate. "What do you want, Adrian? Another scandal splashed across the tabloids? Another woman your parents can’t stand? This..." she gestured vaguely between us "is safe. It’s expected. It protects everything you’ve built."

I studied her closely. She wasn’t wrong, and she knew it. That’s why she seemed so calm, so sure of herself. But she didn’t realize that every word felt like another chain tightening around my freedom.

I turned away again, staring at the garden lights. "I don’t need protection."

"You think you don’t," she said softly. "But you’re the heir to the Cole empire, Adrian. You can’t just live for yourself."

Her words struck deeper than she realized. Maybe because I’d heard them all my life.

I ran my fingers through my hair and muttered, "I don’t want this marriage."

There was a brief pause, then Isabella sighed. "You don’t have to want it right now. Just… think about it. For once, stop fighting against what everyone else already sees as right."

I stayed quiet. I walked past her and headed back inside the house.

---

The next morning, I threw myself into work.

The boardroom was filled with the usual crowd—directors, executives, men twice my age who still underestimated me. I listened to the quarterly reports with only half my attention, but I never missed a beat when it truly mattered.

"Profits in Asia have doubled since our acquisition," one of the directors remarked.

I nodded, feeling a sense of satisfaction. "That's fantastic. Let's ramp up our logistics team over there. I want our shipping process to be seamless by the end of next quarter."

"Absolutely, Mr. Cole."

The meeting dragged on, but I kept a firm grip on the reins. I always did. By the time it wrapped up, the directors filed out, murmuring about my decisiveness, my strategy, and how much I reminded them of my father.

That comparison made my skin crawl.

Once the last person had left, I leaned back in my chair, loosening my tie once more. Work had always been my sanctuary, my armor. In this world of numbers, mergers, and contracts, I felt untouchable. No scandals. No forced unions. Just pure control.

Yet, even in this space, my father's shadow loomed large.

The phone on the table buzzed. My assistant's voice came through. "Sir, your father would like to see you in his office."

Of course.

I stood up, straightening my suit. By the time I reached his office, my face was a mask, my emotions tightly sealed away.

"Adrian," my father said as I walked in. He was seated behind his formidable oak desk, a cigar resting between his fingers. "Take a seat."

I stayed standing. "If this is about last night.."

"It is," he cut in sharply. "You embarrassed me. You embarrassed the Morenos. That kind of behavior is unacceptable."

I felt my fists clench. "You announced my engagement without even asking me."

"Because you would have said no," he shot back, unyielding. "And I can’t let that happen. You’re thirty. It’s time to stop acting like a child and start thinking about your future. Isabella is a perfect match. She gets this lifestyle. She won’t stir up scandals or draw unwanted attention."

My jaw tightened. It was always about control. Always about appearances.

"I don’t love her," I replied flatly.

My father's face hardened. "Love isn't part of the equation here. Did you honestly think I loved your mother when we got married? Not at all. But it served its purpose. And it set the stage for everything you have now. Don't be foolish, Adrian. Family comes first."

Family. Or empire? With him, those two concepts were always tangled together.

I stared at him for a long moment, then turned and walked away without saying another word.

---

That evening, I found myself hanging around the office longer than I usually would. The glass windows of my skyscraper offered a stunning view of the city, with the twinkling lights below looking like a sea of stars. I poured myself a drink and sank into the stillness.

But silence has a way of bringing back memories. Uninvited, flashes of that night came rushing back—heat, blurred touches, the faint scent of perfume. I tried to push it away, telling myself it was just the alcohol and exhaustion. I couldn’t remember her face. I didn’t want to.

Then, a knock broke the quiet.

"Adrian?"

I looked up to see Isabella standing there, still looking sharp in her tailored suit, her hair neatly pulled back.

"What brings you here?" I asked, a bit too bluntly.

She stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. "I wanted to talk. About us."

"There is no us," I shot back immediately.

She brushed off my words, moving a little closer. "I know you’re upset. But Adrian… this doesn’t have to turn into a fight. We can figure this out. We’ve known each other our whole lives. Doesn’t that mean something?"

I stood up, setting my glass down. "It means you should know me well enough to understand that I don’t want this."

Her expression softened, but her resolve was still strong. "And yet, here we are. Our families won’t just let this go. Deep down, you know they’re right."

I locked eyes with her, frustration bubbling up inside me. "What I know is that I won’t be forced into a life I don’t want."

For a moment, silence hung between us. Then Isabella nodded slowly, almost regretfully. "We’ll see."

She left, gently closing the door behind her.

I stood there alone, staring out at the city lights, the weight of expectation pressing down on me once again.

For the first time in years, I felt the walls closing in.