The morning sun spilled into the kitchen through the tall windows, bathing everything in a warm, amber glow. Noël moved gracefully around the kitchen island, flipping pancakes while humming under his breath. He was finally starting to feel like himself again or at least something close to it. The pain in his lower back and hips had dulled to a distant throb, and though he knew it was only the effect of the temporary suppressants, he welcomed the peace while it lasted.
He was plating the last batch of pancakes, now topped with berries and a drizzle of honey, when the doorbell rang.
He paused, confused. They weren't expecting anyone.
Wiping his hands on a towel, Noël walked to the front door and opened it, only to be greeted by a striking woman who looked like she belonged on the cover of a fashion magazine.
She couldn't have been older than twenty-five, but she carried herself with the confidence of someone who'd long learned the world bent to her will. Her long black hair was styled in a sleek low bun, a few deliberate strands left out to frame her porcelain-smooth face. She wore a cream designer trench coat over a beige silk dress that hugged her figure, and her heels which were red-bottomed, unmistakably Louboutins, clicked authoritatively as she shifted her weight with impatience.
She looked Noël up and down with a quick, dismissive glance, the corners of her perfectly-lined lips curving ever so slightly downward.
"I'm here to see Avery," she said coolly, without a greeting. Her accent was refined, Beijing upper crust, the kind that turned heads in luxury boardrooms.
Noël blinked. "Uh, okay. Please come in."
She walked past him like he was a doormat, her perfume trailing behind her, sharp, cold and expensive.
He didn't ask questions. He didn't even know who she was. But her demeanor screamed trouble.
"She must be someone important," Noël thought. "A business partner maybe?"
Still, he stayed cautious and slipped back into the kitchen. Whoever she was, it wasn't his place to pry.
---
Meanwhile, upstairs, Avery was slipping into a crisp white shirt, still smiling from the thought of breakfast downstairs. He could smell something sweet and familiar—honey, cinnamon, berries.
He was halfway down the staircase, loosening the top button of his collar, when—
"Avery!"
He barely had time to react before two slim arms wrapped tightly around him.
He froze.
Avery's stomach dropped like a stone as he looked down and saw her face.
Her voice, her grip, her scent. He hadn't experienced any of them in nearly three years, and yet they all came rushing back like an unwelcome flood.
"Wèi Yulan," he said, his tone turning cold.
She pulled back just enough to smile at him. "It's been a long time, Avery."
Too long, in his opinion.
She was once the picture of everything his family expected from a partner. Beautiful, poised, rich, and frighteningly calculated. His supposed fiancée. A deal sealed by ambition more than affection. A ghost from a life he had walked away from.
"I wasn't expecting you," he said flatly, stepping away from her touch.
"Oh, come now. Is that any way to treat your future wife?"
Avery's jaw clenched. His eyes flicked briefly toward the kitchen, where he knew Noël was. He wasn't ready for this.
Not today. Not like this.
Noël stayed in the kitchen for a few minutes, hoping the woman would leave soon. But when her voice carried toward him smooth and haughty, like she had grown up with silk gloves and silver spoons, he quietly excused himself and went upstairs, not wanting to intrude. He closed his door, but his thoughts lingered on the woman downstairs, on the way she had looked at him like he was no more than background noise. Something inside Noël twisted, but he pushed it down and sat on the edge of his bed, listening faintly.
Meanwhile, in the living room, Avery took a seat across from her, trying to put distance between them. His posture was stiff, his expression unreadable.
"Why are you here, Yulan?" His voice was sharp, businesslike.
Wèi Yulan didn't miss a beat. She crossed one leg over the other with practiced elegance, removing her coat and draping it over the sofa's arm as if she owned the place.
"I'm here to talk about the wedding," she said casually, inspecting her nails. "Don't tell me you've forgotten?"
Avery's brow twitched. "Wedding?"
She smiled, head tilted. "Yes. Ours."
He let out a low breath and leaned forward, fingers laced together. "Cut the games, Yulan. You've ignored me for years. The last time I saw you was at the Shanghai World Expo, and we barely exchanged a 'hello.' Now you suddenly want to pick up where our parents left off? What's the real reason you're here?"
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Do you really think I flew halfway across the world for sentiment?"
"Exactly. So tell me the truth."
She straightened her back, folding her arms. "Your father called mine. Apparently, there's been… pressure from the board. If you want full control of the Cheng Group, you need to settle down. A wife makes you look more stable. Reliable. Married men inspire more trust in traditional shareholders."
Avery's jaw clenched. "So they want me to tie a leash around my neck in exchange for a seat at the top?"
"It's what you were raised for," she said simply. "And let's not pretend our engagement wasn't arranged for this very moment. Our families made a promise. I'm just here to fulfill it."
He looked at her like she was a relic of a past life, a symbol of everything he'd run from. "I didn't agree to any of that. I tolerated it because I thought I could walk away when I was old enough."
"You're twenty-eight now, Avery," she said, leaning forward. "Old enough to stop pretending."
He stood, cutting her off.
"I'm not okay with you guys having this conversation behind my back, and I'm sure as hell not letting anyone else decide when or who I marry," he said coldly. "If my father has something to say, he can say it to my face."
Wèi Yulan stood as well, brushing down her coat as she prepared to leave, her expression unreadable but clearly displeased. "You're making a mistake. I won't wait around forever."
He opened the door for her. "Good. Then don't."
Without another word, she stepped outside, heels clicking sharply on the pavement as she disappeared into her car without so much as a glance back.
Avery closed the door with a hard click and leaned against it for a moment, rubbing his temples.
He could already feel the headache building.