Unholy Matrimony

Elizabeth's Pov 

“I have booked your flight to Italy.”

I stopped halfway across my father's office and stared at him. 

“No,” I said. 

My dad leaned back on his chair, his tired expression looking back at him as if he had expected my answer. 

The late afternoon sun spilled through the window, casting a long shadow across his desk. 

“Princess-” he started, but I interrupted him.

“My answer is no.” I dropped my bag on the nearest couch and folded my hands on my chest. “I am not going anywhere. I am staying in New York.”

A year. 

It has been a year since Dave died, and my family still spoke to me as if I was a fragile glass that would shatter if I was handled the wrong way. 

My dad sighed. “You are not living anymore. You are a shadow of yourself.”

“Don't say it like that.” 

“I shouldn't say it as it is?” His voice sharpened. “You barely sleep. You spend most days bed rotting and bawling your eyes out, neglecting your career. You spend every weekend visiting the cemetery. You are still chasing theories about a dead man instead of moving on with your life.”

My chest instantly tightened. “Dave wasn't just some dead man.”

“I know. Dave was your fiancé.” 

“Then, don't talk about him like that,” I said, and heavy silence stretched between us.

Dad rubbed a hand over his face, which he does when he is frustrated and tired. 

“I am trying to help you. I can't watch you waste your life any longer.”

“By shipping me off to Italy?” 

“I am not shipping you off to Italy. I am giving you a chance to move on.” 

Laughter broke out from my lips, a bitter one. “Moving to another country isn't moving on.”

“Then what should I do?” His voice became sharp and high. “I have come to realize you can't do that here. You are still living in the past.”

“I am not living in the past. I am trying to find who killed him.”

Dad's jaw tightened. “It was an accident. The police ruled it as a hit and run.”

“I think they are wrong,” I snapped. “Why couldn't we find the other person? Why did the person disappear without a trace?” 

Before my dad could answer, another voice entered the room. 

“You still think it wasn't an accident?” 

I turned and saw Richard Hayes stepping out from the lounge area connected to Dad's office. He was holding a cup of coffee in one hand.

I didn't even notice him when I came in. 

Of course he was going to be here. He and my Dad are best friends. They have been friends for years, long before either of them built two of New York's biggest companies together.

“Richard,” I forced a polite smile. “I didn't know you were here.”

“I have been listening to you and Edward’s conversation.” 

Great. Exactly what I needed. An audience. 

Dad stood up from his chair and moved next to Richard. My brows furrowed as the sight of the two of them standing side by side caused an uneasy stir in my stomach. 

“We have something to discuss with you, and I would like you to be settled,” he said, then added. “Have your seat.” He gestured, and the both of them sat down opposite me. 

I hesitated but slowly lowered myself on the couch 

“What is going on?” I asked. 

Richard set his cup of coffee down and met my gaze. “Edward and I have been discussing a solution.”

“To what?”

“To both our problems.” 

I frowned, not seeing where this was leading. 

“How does that have anything to do with me?’

“It does. Listen.” Richard said calmly. “Your father loves you very much. Even a blind man can see that.”

My dad's expression softened for a second. 

“I know that,” I said. 

“But you are not the daughter I know. You are here, but you are absent. You are disappearing, and I can't keep watching you like that,” he said quietly, and the words stung me more than I wanted to admit. 

I wanted to tell him I was still here. That I was still his daughter, but I knew he was telling the truth. 

I looked away from them, silence stretching between us. 

Richard spoke before the silence became unbearable. “Lucas needs a wife.”

My head snapped back to both of them. “Excuse me?” 

My gaze moved to my father, but he just inhaled sharply without saying anything, and Richard continued like he hadn't just dropped a grenade in the room. 

“Lucas has been at the center of a scandal,” he said, and I remembered reading about it two weeks ago on my way to the cemetery. “And the board is demanding stability before the merger announcement next quarter. The company stock has already taken a hit since the scandal too.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“A respectable marriage between two powerful families will help,” he said, and I stared at him as if he had just said the most random thing before bursting into laughter.

The laughter came out humourless. “Find him a respectable woman then. I don't think it is hard for him to find one himself given his reputation with women.” 

“I have already,” Richard said, his eyes not leaving mine, and the room went very still until it dawned on me.

“Absolutely not,” I shook my head. 

My dad stood up and stepped forward, “Princess, listen-”

“No, you listen,” I stood up from the couch. “Your son spent half my childhood calling me names and being horrible to me.” 

Richard's mouth twitched faintly while he looked down. If it was amusement or embarrassment, I don't know. 

“He humiliated me at school, at parties, at family dinners. On my fifteenth birthday, he stood in front of everyone, pointed at my cake, and asked if I had ordered it for myself alone or my fellow fatties. The last time I saw him, he asked if I planned to eat the dessert table too. Should I continue?”

“Those were years ago. He was immature.” Richard said, and I chuckled. 

“How old is he now?” I asked, calculating his years in my head. “Twenty-six? Twenty-seven?”

When I didn't get a reply, I continued.

“Lucas Hayes? The same Lucas Hayes whose face has been plastered across every newspaper in New York for the past two weeks is now mature?”

“Elizabeth!” My father snapped, and I looked at him. 

“I am not getting involved with Lucas in any way possible.”

“Then leave for Italy tomorrow.” Dad's voice hardened. 

“What?” I asked in disbelief. “I am old enough to make my own decision, Dad.”

“You have been doing that and see where it got you. Now, I will decide for you as your father,” he said, leaving no room for discussion. 

“Dad-” 

“One year, Elizabeth. One year of grief, therapy appointments you refused to attend, and an investigation that leads nowhere. I am done pretending it is healthy.”

My throat tightened as I listened to him. 

“I know you loved him. I know how it hurts, but you can't live your life like this. Dave won't want you to. You will go to Italy,” he continued gently, “or stay in New York as Lucas's wife.”

I waited for him to call it a joke, but nothing came. 

“You are serious?” I asked, shifting my gaze between the two of them.

“I am.” 

Richard reached for his jacket and placed a thick folder on the table. My name was printed beside Lucas Hayes. 

Marriage contract. 

My stomach twisted. They had already decided on it before telling me. 

“Everything you need to know is inside there,” Richard said. 

“Did Lucas agree to this?” I looked at Richard.

“He will do what is necessary.” 

That sounded like a yes to me. 

My pulse pounded in my ears as my thoughts scattered about. 

Going to Italy means leaving behind everything connected to Dave. It means giving up the investigation. And I can't do that. 

“Fine.” 

“Fine?” Dad asked. 

“I will marry him.” Relief flashed through their faces, and Richard nodded.

“I will marry him,” I said, looking both of them in the eye. “But I would rather spend a lifetime with the devil.” 

Richard picked up his phone. 

“Let's hope my son feels differently.”