The moment I stepped into the mansion, the air shifted.
The guards straightened. The maids froze mid-step. Even the chandelier lights seemed to dim, as if the whole place knew I wasn't in the mood for anyone's existence tonight.
I shrugged off my suit jacket, tossing it into James's hands.
My voice sliced through the silence.
"Where is she?"
James, always calm, always unreadable, said, "In the sunroom, sir. With Mrs. Matilda."
Of course she was. Talking. Plotting.
Exactly what they did best.
I pushed the sunroom door open without knocking.
There she was, my grandmother, Margaret Steele, poised, elegant, lips curved into that soft smile that fooled everyone but me.
And beside her sat Matilda… my father's second wife. Always watching. Always calculating.
Margaret looked up first.
"Dominic, sweetheart," she said warmly. "You're home earlier than."
I cut her off.
"Why did you do it?"
Matilda lifted a brow. "Do what, darling?"
I stared directly at my grandmother.
"Why did you go to the Whitmores and propose a marriage?"
She let out a slow sigh and placed her teacup down with deliberate calm.
"Because it is time," she said simply.
My jaw tightened. "Time for what?"
"For you to settle," she replied. "For you to have a stable household. A future. A wife."
A hollow, sharp laugh escaped me.
"A wife?"
Matilda smirked. "Don't pretend you didn't know this day would come. The company needs an heir. Stability."
"I don't need a wife to run a company," I shot back.
Margaret folded her hands neatly on her lap. "You need someone decent. Samantha Whitmore fits that."
I stepped closer, my voice dropping into ice.
"You had no right."
She didn't flinch. "I had every right. Someone must make decisions while you refuse to."
"My decisions," I snapped, "are mine. Not yours."
Matilda swirled her wine lazily. "Samantha is beautiful. Polished. From a respectable family. I truly don't see your problem."
"I don't want her," I said flatly.
Margaret met my coldness with the quiet steel of her own.
"You haven't wanted anyone," she said softly. "Not in years. Not since…"
"Don't." My voice dropped, warning.
Silence spread across the room.
James shifted behind me, uneasy. He hated family arguments.
I dragged a hand through my hair, breath sharp. "You should have come to me. You should have spoken to me before making decisions about my life."
Margaret sighed. "If I did, you would shut the door in my face. Again."
"Because I don't want to be pushed into things I didn't choose."
"Well," she said gently, "then choose."
I stared at her, chest tight with irritation I didn't want to acknowledge.
Matilda leaned forward. "Samantha Whitmore is a lovely girl. You could do much worse."
"I'd rather do nothing," I muttered.
My grandmother's eyes hardened. "Then this family will crumble when I'm gone."
Her voice cracked, just barely, and that alone made me still.
James looked at me, silently begging me not to explode again.
I stepped back, needing space.
"When did you even meet the Whitmores?" I asked.
"Months ago," Margaret replied. "They approached us for a partnership. I simply… expanded the conversation."
"Expanded?" I repeated. "Into an engagement?"
"It was only a proposal," she corrected. "Nothing is finalized."
Matilda smirked. "Though from the way Samantha behaved tonight, I doubt she's eager either."
My eyes narrowed. "Samantha refused?"
"Oh, very loudly," Matilda said with a laugh. "Threw quite the tantrum."
Good.
At least someone in that house had sense.
Margaret frowned. "Don't joke about it."
"I'm serious," Matilda said. "She said she wouldn't marry a man she's never met."
I clenched my jaw. "Smart girl."
Margaret tapped her cane lightly.
"She will come around."
Then she added, almost casually:
"Or the other girl will."
My brows lowered. "What girl?"
She hesitated.
And that alone sent something cold crawling down my spine.
Matilda smirked. "Rose. The orphan living with them. The one in the shadows."
I turned fully toward them. "Excuse me?"
Margaret lifted her chin. "If Samantha doesn't accept, Whitmore's wife suggested the orphan instead. She called it repayment for their 'kindness.'"
I stared at her.
Then at Matilda.
Then back at my grandmother.
Cold.
Silent.
Dead.
Finally, I spoke.
"You will not drag strangers into my life."
Matilda shrugged lightly, checking her lipstick. "It wasn't our idea, darling. We simply listened."
"This conversation is over," I said tightly.
I turned to leave, but my grandmother's voice stopped me.
"Dominic."
I paused.
"You deserve companionship," she said softly. "Not loneliness."
I shut my eyes for a moment, something sharp twisting inside my chest.
When I opened them, my voice was flat.
"Companionship isn't something I buy from another family."
She didn't argue.
I walked out, James following like a shadow.
We reached the hallway before he spoke.
"Sir…"
"Don't."
"She meant well," he said quietly. "Your grandmother.."
"Is trying to choose my life for me," I snapped. "And I'm tired of people thinking they have the right."
James fell silent. He knew better.
I walked until we reached my study the only place I could breathe.
I shut the door behind us.
James stood near the shelves, hands behind his back.
After a long stretch of silence, he asked, "What do you want me to do, sir?"
I looked out the window. The night was cold. Black. Familiar.
"Tell me everything the Whitmores said," I ordered.
He recounted it all.
The proposal.
The hesitation.
The orphan girl being dragged into the conversation.
When he finished, he waited quietly.
I turned from the window, my voice low.
"What do we know about the girl?"
"Nothing yet, sir," James replied carefully.
Nothing.
They were ready to hand me to a stranger.
My fists curled.
Everyone was so eager to decide my life for me.
Shape my future.
Choose my wife.
Give me another cage to live in.
Not again.
Not after everything I'd survived.
James stepped closer. "Should we dismiss the Whitmore arrangement entirely?"
I didn't answer.
My grandmother's words echoed in my mind.
Or the other girl will.
Rose.
An orphan.
A girl being pushed into a marriage she never asked for.
Just like they were trying to push me.
I exhaled slowly.
Then I looked at James, my voice like ice.
"Find out about her."
He blinked. "Sir?"
"Rose," I said firmly. "Everything. Her age. Her background. Why does she live with them?"
A beat passed.
"And why do they think she's useful enough to offer?"
James swallowed. "Right away, sir."
His hesitation didn't slip past me.
"You have something to say?"
He cleared his throat. "Only that… she might be innocent in all of this."
My jaw tightened.
"Innocent or not," I said coldly, "no one enters my life without being investigated. Not even a girl being offered in a business transaction."
James nodded slowly. "Understood."
I turned back to the night outside my window.
My voice dropped into ice.
"Find out everything about the girl."
The room fell silent.