The night was heavy with silence when Lila finally reached home. Her steps were slow, her body sore from the double work shift, but it wasn't just exhaustion that weighed her down—it was the memory of that unsettling moment outside the club. Adrian's driver had stopped her, and Adrian himself had wanted to talk. Even now, as she pushed open the creaky wooden door of their modest house, her nerves buzzed like restless bees.
Inside, the house was quiet. The faint light from the hallway lamp spilled into the sitting room, casting soft shadows across the old furniture. She set her bag down carefully, glancing toward her parents' room. The door was closed, and she could hear nothing but the gentle hum of the ceiling fan. Her father, Mr. Sylvester Hart, had likely fallen asleep after taking his medication, and her mother, Bianca, would be curled beside him, worn out from her long day at the school. Jake, her seventeen-year-old brother, must have also retired to his room; he usually did after helping their mother clean up the kitchen.
A lump formed in Lila's throat as she looked around their small but familiar home. She worked herself to the bone for these three people—for her father's health, for her mother's peace, for her brother's future. That thought gave her strength even when her body begged her to collapse. Tonight, though, her mind was restless. She needed to wash away the stress clinging to her skin.
She tiptoed down the hallway, careful not to wake anyone, and slipped into the small bathroom. Steam soon filled the space as she turned on the shower. The warm water cascaded over her, and she let out a soft sigh. It wasn't just a bath—it was a cleansing of the day's burdens. She rubbed her skin slowly, her long hair dampening as the water soaked through. But no matter how much she tried, she couldn't scrub away the image of Adrian from her mind. His sharp gaze. The quiet authority in his voice. The fact that his driver had stopped her just to deliver his request for a conversation.
"Who is he, really?" she whispered to herself, closing her eyes. "And what does he want from me?"
When she was finally done, she wrapped herself in a towel, changed into her soft nightwear, and padded into the small kitchen. The clock on the wall ticked toward midnight, and her stomach growled in protest of the long day. She reheated some leftover rice and stew, then sat at the tiny dining table, eating in silence. The food was simple, but it grounded her. Still, her mind drifted back again and again to the encounter at the club.
She remembered his presence when she walked into the VIP lounge. The way he had hardly spoken, letting his driver order for him. Yet even in his silence, she had felt something powerful. Men often looked at her—some with admiration, some with lust, some with envy—but Adrian had looked at her differently, as if he was measuring her, trying to decide something she couldn't name.
Her fork clinked softly against the plate as she sighed. Why me? she wondered. What could someone like him possibly want with a girl like me?
When she finished eating, she washed the plate quietly, dried her hands, and walked back to her small bedroom. She slipped beneath the covers, the familiar scent of lavender soap clinging to her skin. The house was silent, but inside her chest, her heart wouldn't settle. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Adrian again, sitting in that VIP booth, commanding attention without effort.
She turned on her side, hugging her pillow. "If it was another guy, I would have walked away," she murmured, thinking of how she had let his driver stop her. Normally, she would never allow any man to stall her on the street. But something about him had pinned her in place.
The questions looped endlessly in her head: Who is Adrian? What does he want? And why me? She fought the thoughts, but sleep finally crept over her, pulling her into restless dreams where piercing gray eyes seemed to follow her everywhere.
---
Across the city, Adrian Blackwood was just arriving at his estate. His sleek black car rolled into the expansive driveway, and Nathan parked with practiced precision. The mansion loomed in the night, tall and quiet, with lights glowing faintly in the upper floors. Adrian stepped out, his expression unreadable, but his body carried the fatigue of the day.
The company had drained him, as always. Meetings, board discussions, endless decisions—it was his life, and he handled it with precision, but it never failed to leave him tired. Tonight, however, he wasn't only tired. He was restless.
Because of her.
He loosened his tie as he entered the grand foyer, servants bowing slightly as he passed. He climbed the stairs slowly, his thoughts turning over what had happened. He had wanted to see her again, the girl whose face had burned into his mind since that night with the loan sharks. Meeting her at the club had felt like fate giving him a second chance.
And yet, he wasn't fooling himself. His attraction to her wasn't about love. He wasn't the kind of man who believed in fairytales or romance. No, his reasons were far more practical.
His parents had been on his neck for months. They wanted him married, settled, ready to take over more family responsibilities. Their whispers had grown louder lately, their insinuations sharper. They had never seen him with a woman, not publicly, not even once. The rumors among their circles had started to spread—that perhaps Adrian wasn't interested in women at all.
That thought made him grit his teeth as he poured himself a glass of whiskey in his study. He didn't care what society whispered, but he cared about his family's expectations. His father, in particular, had been relentless. "Find someone, Adrian. You need a wife, someone to stand by you when you take over everything. This silence of yours makes people doubt."
Well, he had found someone now.
Lila Hart.
She was strikingly beautiful, almost painfully so. Ocean-blue eyes that seemed to hold depth, skin smooth and glowing, hair like silk cascading down her back. She was young, hardworking, and from the little he had seen, respectful. A good girl. Exactly the type of woman who could silence his parents' endless complaints.
Adrian swirled the drink in his glass, his mind already turning cold and calculating. He didn't love her. He didn't need to. Love was unreliable, messy. What he needed was a solution, a partner who fit the image his family wanted. And Lila, with her quiet grace and striking presence, was perfect for the role.
He set the glass down and picked up his phone. "Nathan," he said when the line connected.
"Yes, sir?"
"I want you to check her background. Everything. Where she lives, her family, her debts, her history. Quietly. I don't want her to know."
There was a pause, then Nathan's steady voice replied, "Consider it done, sir."
Adrian ended the call, leaning back in his leather chair. His eyes drifted to the window, where the city lights glittered in the distance. He felt a strange calm settle over him, a sense of decision made. This wasn't about desire. It wasn't about romance. This was strategy, pure and simple.
He would make Lila his bride.
Not because he loved her, but because she fit the role his family demanded. And because, in his own way, he was tired of the whispers too.
With that, Adrian finally rose, finished his drink, and headed to his bedroom. His steps were heavy, but his mind was clearer than it had been in months. For the first time, he felt like he had an answer for his parents' endless questions.
And in another corner of the city, the girl who would unknowingly become part of that answer slept fitfully, unaware of the storm that was slowly gathering around her.