The Wrong Kind Of Love

YULIA

“We’re almost there, baby girl.” My father watched me as I angled towards the side window, lost in my thoughts.

“I still can’t believe you eloped and got married.” I glanced at him, and he was smiling.

“Well… I can’t be single forever. I’m ready to settle down and spend the rest of my life with my woman.” He cut his eyes at me and winked.

“Yeah, right.” I huffed, reclining my seat to feel comfortable. “Now I have to live with Miss Daphne’s son while you go on a honeymoon.”

“A son I’ve never even met,” I muttered under my breath. 

“I really think this will be a good thing. You’ve been the only child since forever. And now, you’ll have company.”

“Dad, I’m twenty-two, and I can take care of myself.” 

“I’m going away for three weeks, Yulia. I need you safe.”

“Is he even my age?” I asked curiously. Miss Daphne looked like she was in her forties.

“You’ll see,” he said, clearly enjoying the suspense.

We approached Hampstead, where the wealthy people lived. My father is well-to-do as a lawyer, but not Hampstead kind of money.

“Miss Daphne lives in this neighborhood?” I quizzed my father as I stared at the serene environment and the mansions sprawled about.

“Yes.”

I know she owns a restaurant. I’ve been there before, but could it afford her this neighborhood?

My father pulled up to the gate and greeted the security guard as if they had known each other for a while.

“I can tell you visit her often.” I side-eyed him.

He chuckled. “That I do.” 

As soon as we arrived, I already knew I didn’t belong there. The house was nothing like ours. It wasn’t just big, it was deliberate. Every detail, from the glass walls to the perfectly trimmed hedges outside, felt designed to impress people who were used to being impressed.

I stepped out of the car slowly, smoothing down my dress, suddenly aware of how out of place I felt.

“Stay close,” my father said as he walked ahead, as if it were just another day. I nodded and stood beside him, stiff like I was meeting royalty.

The front door opened before we even reached it, and she stood there looking elegant and composed. She smiled like she had been waiting for this moment.

“Yulia,” Daphne said warmly, stepping forward to hug me before I could react. “It’s been so long.”

“Hi, Miss Daphne,” I greeted, and pulled back gently.

Her eyes softened as she looked at me. “You’ve grown into a beautiful young woman.”

“Thank you. You’re looking elegant as always.”

“Awwwnn…thank you, dear. Come in,” she said, gesturing inside. 

The moment I stepped inside, my stomach tightened, like I was walking into something unknown.

The interior of the house was even more intimidating than the outside. Marble floors stretched beneath my ballet flats, spotless and gleaming under the warm chandelier lights. The entire place smelled faintly of vanilla and expensive cologne, the kind that lingered quietly but demanded attention.

“This way,” Miss Daphne uttered softly, leading us deeper into the house.

I followed, trying not to stare too much, but it was impossible not to notice everything. The artwork hanging on the walls looked like pieces you’d find in museums, and the living room alone was bigger than our entire downstairs back home. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked a breathtaking garden, and somewhere in the distance, soft instrumental music played through hidden speakers.

“Please, sit,” Miss Daphne said warmly.

I lowered myself onto the cream-colored couch carefully, afraid I might somehow ruin it just by existing on it.

“Can I get you anything?” she asked.

“I’m fine, thank you,” I replied politely.

“I’m fine,” my father echoed.

She nodded before calling out. “Kendrick, they’re here!”

A door opened somewhere down the hallway, and then he appeared. My throat suddenly felt dry, and I couldn’t stop staring. 

Tall. Broad shoulders. Black joggers hanging low on his waist, a fitted grey shirt clinging to his chest from sweat. His dark hair was damp, slightly messy, like he had been running his fingers through it.

He looked up casually at first. Then his eyes landed on me. And just like that, the room shifted.

No… No freaking way! I knew that face.

“Kendrick Fernsby?” The words slipped out before I could stop them.

One of the top billionaire tech moguls in London. The Kendrick Fernsby, whose face appeared in magazines, interviews, and business articles every other week. And somehow… he was standing in front of me, sweaty and real, looking directly at me.

A faint curve formed at the corner of his mouth. Not quite a smile. “I’m guessing you’ve heard of me.”

I blinked rapidly, trying to gather my thoughts. “You’re… her son?”

“Yes.” Miss Daphne answered proudly, walking back into the room. “I had Kendrick when I was very young.” She added.

“Oh.”

My father stood, smiling as he extended his hand toward Kendrick. “Good seeing you again.”

Kendrick shook it firmly. “Likewise, William.”

Dad looked entirely relaxed around him, while I suddenly felt hyperaware of myself. 

Miss Daphne sat beside me, smiling softly. “I’m really glad you came, Yulia.”

“The old man didn’t exactly give me much choice.”

She laughed and gently touched my arm. “You’ll be comfortable here, sweetheart.”

Living with Kendrick Fernsby? The billionaire everyone in London seemed obsessed with?

Kendrick finally spoke. “And, I don’t mind.”

My head snapped toward him. He looked completely unaffected by the situation, while my entire brain was struggling to keep up.

Dad smiled in relief. “Perfect. We’ll leave now.” He kissed my forehead before leaving. “Behave yourself.”

I rolled my eyes. “You say that like I’m five.”

“Just call if you need anything.”

Then they were gone. The silence settled heavily through the house, becoming much aware that I was alone with Kendrick Fernsby.

He loosened the Apple watch on his wrist slightly before glancing toward one of the house staff nearby. “Take Miss Adley’s bags upstairs.”

“Yes, sir.”

Kendrick addressed me. “Feel at home. I have work to finish.” He continued, saying. “If you need anything, ask the staff.” And just like that, he walked away.

One of the maids smiled politely at me. “This way, miss.”

I followed her upstairs, trying not to glance back toward the hallway Kendrick disappeared into.

My room was massive. Bigger than my apartment at university. Butter yellow walls, a king-sized bed, a private balcony overlooking the city lights.

“Call me if you’d like anything, Miss Adley.”

I nodded, and she left me alone in the room. 

Living under the same roof with Kendrick Fernsby suddenly felt less like an arrangement and more like a problem I hadn’t fully understood yet.