chapter 6

AVA’S POV continued

My mind told me to flee—to go back to the city where my talent had begun to bloom, where my daughter had friends, where Pearl’s warm companionship had kept me from despair.

But my heart… my heart still foolishly clung to the idea that maybe, somehow, I could win back my dignity here.

The soft creak of the door startled me.

Father’s shadow filled the threshold. His voice was low but commanding.

“You will not disgrace this family again, Ava. I have arranged your marriage. Prepare yourself. The man you’ll meet tomorrow is your future.”

The words fell like a hammer, sealing my fate.

I closed my eyes, my nails digging into my palms until I felt the sting of skin breaking.

The next evening, the air carried a soft chill as I stepped into the glowing restaurant. Chandeliers shimmered above polished tables, and quiet piano music floated through the air. I paused at the entrance, smoothing my dress—simple yet elegant, a soft shade of blue that I hoped would hide how nervous I was.

Father’s words echoed in my mind:

“He’s young, dependable, works at Newton Group. You’ll know him by his navy-blue suit.”

No name. No photo. Just that one detail.

My heart fluttered as I scanned the room. Then I saw him—a tall man seated by the window, dressed in a crisp navy-blue suit. His posture was straight, his expression composed, his air commanding yet distant. He wasn’t smiling, wasn’t looking around as if searching. He seemed… waiting.

That must be him, I thought.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I walked toward his table. My heels clicked softly on the marble floor. He didn’t look up until I stopped right in front of him.

“Excuse me,” I said quietly, trying to keep my voice steady. “Are you waiting for someone?”

He lifted his gaze.

Our eyes met. Dark, calm, unreadable. For a heartbeat, it felt as if everything around me stilled. Something in his eyes flickered—a faint recognition, maybe—but it vanished before I could be sure.

“Yes,” he said after a moment, his tone polite but cool. “Please, have a seat.”

I nodded and sat down, clutching the edge of my purse beneath the table.

The waiter appeared almost immediately, placing menus before us. He didn’t open his. “You can order first,” he said curtly, glancing at his watch.

My heart was racing. He looked exactly as Father had described—young, handsome, confident. Maybe even too confident. But I told myself to relax. Father had said the man was dependable, someone who worked at Newton Group. Perhaps he was just shy… or tired.

Trying to ease the tension, I offered a small smile. “My father said you work at Newton Group too. What a coincidence.”

He raised an eyebrow slightly. “Too?”

“Yes,” I said quickly, brushing a curl behind my ear. “Well, not me—but I’ve worked with jewelry suppliers who deal with the company. It’s a small world, isn’t it?”

He gave a short nod, his expression unreadable. “Mm.”

His composure intimidated me. He was too calm, too measured, as if everything he did had a reason behind it. He leaned back slightly and looked at me with a steady, unreadable expression. Every small movement seemed deliberate.

There was a phone on the table beside him, simple and plain. Nothing about it—or him—hinted at anything unusual.

“You seem nervous,” he said suddenly, his tone calm but distant.

I gave a small laugh. “Is it that obvious?”

“Just a little.”

There was no warmth in his voice, just polite words. His eyes moved over my face in a quiet, steady way that made me even more self-conscious. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

I thought maybe he was just quiet or serious, so I tried to relax. I straightened up, folded my hands in my lap, and tried to make a good impression

 Dinner was quiet. The man across from me, Ethan, barely spoke. He sat straight, calm, and serious. Every movement he made was controlled.

“I… hope I haven’t disappointed you,” I said softly, forcing a small smile.

His gaze was steady and cold. “That depends.”

My stomach tightened. “On what?”

“On whether you’re here for me,” he said, “or for what you think I have.”

The words caught me off guard. “I—I don’t understand.”

He leaned back slightly. “Women who agree to blind dates arranged by wealthy families usually have motives. I don’t like guessing them.”

I felt my face grow warm. “I didn’t even know who you were,” I said quickly. “My father only said you worked at Newton Group.”

“How convenient,” he said quietly.

For a few seconds, I didn’t know what to say. His tone made me feel small, but I refused to stay silent. I’d spent years letting others decide what I was worth. Not again.

“Mr. Ethan,” I said, keeping my voice calm, “you seem to have misunderstood me.”

He looked at me, a little surprised. “Have I?”

“Yes.” I placed my cup back on the table. “I didn’t come here because of money or status. My father said you were dependable and serious about marriage. That’s all I was told.”

He didn’t speak. He just watched me closely.

“I’ve worked hard for everything I have,” I continued. “I don’t want wealth. I want a stable life. I want peace. And if marriage is part of it, I want loyalty, not convenience.”

His expression changed slightly. “You speak like someone who’s been disappointed before,” he said.

I gave a small, tired smile. “Who hasn’t been?”

He was silent for a moment, then said, “Even if you came here looking for a rich man, you won’t find one here. I’m just a worker at Newton Group.”

I met his eyes. “That’s fine. It doesn’t change what I said.”

His fingers paused on his glass. “It doesn’t?”

“No. I didn’t come here for a title. I came because I believe in second chances.”

He looked at me carefully. “You talk about second chances as if they come easily.”

“They don’t,” I said. “That’s why they matter.”

He didn’t respond. For a while, neither of us said anything. I could hear the quiet sound of plates and cutlery from other tables.

As I reached for my glass, I noticed his hands. They looked well-kept—too neat for someone who said he was just a worker. Even his watch, though simple, looked expensive.

Something about him didn’t fit. He seemed too refined, too careful, like someone used to being in control.

But I didn’t ask. I just took a sip of my drink and sat quietly, pretending not to notice