A Condition

Ava's POV

My eyes were glued to them, a knot of disbelief tightening in my stomach. Lorenzo, the cold and ruthless man who had just revealed I was his property, was holding a little girl with such tenderness. His fingers gently traced her back as she snuggled into his chest, her small arms wrapped around his neck. The scene was so jarringly domestic, so utterly at odds with the dangerous persona he projected.

The little girl finally lifted her head, her bright and innocent eyes meeting mine. “Daddy, who is that?” she asked, her voice a sweet and childish lilt.

Lorenzo’s gaze flickered to me, a momentary hesitation before he replied, his voice flat, “She’s just a friend, Anna.”

A friend. The word echoed in my mind like a bitter irony. He owned me, according to him yet to his daughter, I was merely a “friend.” The shock of his casual dismissal after the weighty pronouncements of ownership, left me speechless.

Anna, undeterred, offered a small wave. “Hi! What’s your name?”

“Ava,” I managed, my voice a little hoarse.

“I’m Anna!” she chirped, her curiosity shining in her eyes. She seemed genuinely interested, a stark contrast to the guarded adults in my life. But then, a tired yawn escaped her lips.

“Time for bed, little one,” Lorenzo said, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it. He called for her nanny, who appeared almost instantly. “You can talk to Ava tomorrow,” he told Anna, gently placing her into the nanny’s arms.

As Anna was carried away, Lorenzo’s gaze slid sideways to me. “Follow me,” he commanded, his voice back to its usual clipped tone. I followed him, my mind still reeling and the image of him holding his daughter burned into my memory.

He led me into a room, opulent and dimly lit. The door clicked shut behind us. I didn’t waste a second. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a daughter?” I demanded, the words bursting out of me. “You gave me a contract to sign but you never mentioned anything about a child. This is my life now! I should have been told!”

He merely raised an eyebrow. “The contract doesn’t mention anything about children, does it?” His voice was cool, dismissive.

“It should have!” I insisted, frustration bubbling. “And what about Mario? Is he your friend?”

A grimace briefly crossed his face. “Friend? No.”

“Just an enemy, then?” I pressed, the pieces slowly falling into place.

He remained silent, confirming my words.

“And Kate?” I continued, pushing my luck. “Is she your ex?”

His eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise but was quickly masked. Then, in one swift movement, he grabbed my waist, pulling me flush against him. My breath hitched. His hand moved to my throat, gently, possessively, the warm pad of his fingertips resting on my skin. I could feel the heat of his breath in my hair, sending shivers down my spine.

“You signed that contract, Ava,” he whispered, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated through me. “You signed up for this. Your new reality. Try not to get involved in my private matters, little bird or you’ll regret it.”

He pulled back, his lips hovering inches from mine, his gaze intense. “Start getting used to it.”

Then, he released me, stepping back. His expression was calm, collected as if he hadn’t just threatened me. “I’ll be gone for a few days,” he stated, his voice devoid of emotion. “Don’t miss me too much.”

With that, he turned and left the room, leaving me breathless with frustration, exhaustion and a strange, unsettling heat in his wake. Why did his closeness affect me like this? Why did I feel such a potent mix of fear and something akin to… awareness? I collapsed onto a nearby chair, the luxurious fabric doing little to comfort me. My life that once seemingly so predictable, had become a chaotic storm. Why had it all gone so terribly wrong? I drifted off to sleep, the unsettling questions swirling in my mind.

The next day, the insistent ring of my phone jolted me awake. My head was still fuzzy from the emotional whirlwind of the previous day. I weakly fumbled for my phone, squinting at the caller ID. An unknown number. I answered, my voice groggy.

“Ms. Ava?” a lady's voice asked, crisp and professional. “This is from St. Jude’s Hospital. Your grandfather has been admitted.”

My heart seized. I was out of bed in an instant, the last vestiges of sleep fleeing. I threw on the first clothes I could find, my hands fumbling with buttons and rushed out, searching for the nearest ride on my phone.

The hospital corridors smelled of antiseptic and lingering sickness. I found his room, my breath catching in my throat as I saw him. He was pale, frail, hooked up to a tangle of tubes and wires but he was alive. A wave of profound relief washed over me, quickly followed by a crushing sadness.

“Grandpa!” I choked out, rushing to his bedside.

His eyes, though faded, lit up with recognition. He reached out a trembling hand and I gently took it, tears blurring my vision. “Ava, my dear girl,” he whispered, his voice weak, raspy.

We hugged, a long, heartfelt embrace that conveyed years of unspoken affection and shared grief. He had been battling stage 4 lung cancer for over a year, a secret he’d tried to keep to himself, trying to spare me worry. He knew about Carlos’s mistreatment, the company, everything. But the extent of my current predicament with Lorenzo, that he didn't know. And even if he did, bedridden and weak, there was nothing he could do. As I held him, my tears flowed freely, pouring out the frustration, the fear and the utter despair of my situation.

He stroked my hair, comforting me as best he could. “My brave girl,” he murmured. “I knew you’d find your way.”

Then, his gaze grew serious. “There’s something I need to tell you, Ava. My wealth… my company… my shares in your father’s company, everything I own… it’s all for you.”

My head snapped up, surprise warring with my grief. “Grandpa, no, you don’t have to—”

He held up a weak hand. “Listen, child. But there’s a condition.”

A condition? My brow furrowed in confusion.

“You’ll inherit everything,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, “only if you marry the man you were betrothed to at birth.”

My mind reeled. Betrothed? I’d never heard of such a thing. “Who?” I asked, my voice barely audible.

He took a slow, rattling breath then met my gaze. “Mario Bennett.”

The name struck me like a physical blow. Mario. Lorenzo’s rival. The man from the casino. The man whose presence had caused such palpable tension between him and Lorenzo. My grandfather’s words hung in the air like a cruel twist of fate in an already impossibly tangled life.