The sound of the pen point scratching over the piece of paper pierced through the silence in the room when I finally―after the long wait―scribble down my signature on the designated part of the contract. I already had my decision long before, and the last hour of sitting with him over dinner was the last move I needed to do to see whether I will one day find any comfort of sharing the same space with him, after knowing that I have shared the same intentions since the beginning.
Well, almost everything.
"Done," I let Noah know once I have finished with the task. I put the lid back on the pen and put it down, next to the papers and straighten my body on my seat to once again look across the table and stare into his eyes. Noah gives me a delightful smile and nods his head towards the butler that has been standing at the corner of the room, giving him a sign to take the folder of papers and the pen away.
I watch silently as the older man takes them in his hands and submits them to his employer, before retreating from my sight once again. Holding my gaze, I watch silently as Noah holds the contract in his hand, his eyes lingering over it as if he is studying the words―even when I know he won't have to do it when he is the one who made it―before he finally places them back over the table and starts leaving his own signature on it.
"Well then," he speaks once he is done with his part, putting back the lid of the pen before placing it in the front pocket of his shirt. "I'm glad that we can finally settle with the agreement. I will arrange for the next step and set out the date for the public marriage proposal and our engagement party. I'm sure that three months is already enough time to grief, isn't it? I'm pretty sure people won't have any problems with seeing you accepting a new wedding proposal by then."
"Do we really have to make it so big―and public?"
A smile appears on Noah's face as he chuckles. "Of course, we do. It's the only way to let the world know of our future plans and announce that there will be no other chances for anyone else to take your hand in marriage aside for me. I'm sure what I talked about people pestering you on your future plans have already started, don't they?"
I release an annoyed sigh at his question. "Yes, they have. Even when it had only been two weeks after the funeral, some of my father's colleagues have been asking about who he would choose as his future son-in-law and successor. Most of them claiming that I am deemed unfit of handling such a huge line of business."
I let out a scoff at the thought, angry at the men that dare to look down on me, but also grateful for their presence, since they were the main reason why I became sure of accepting Noah's proposal.
"Those men are wrong. I know for sure that you will be most fitting," Noah speaks out, much to my surprise. But I give him no words to interject or accept his subtle compliment, only choosing to give him a grateful smile instead.
"Now that the dinner and everything else is settled, I think it's best that I should retire for the night and head on home," I say to him with a small smile, nodding at the butler to give him a sign to help pull my chair away and help me get on my feet. But before the man even has any chance of leaving his spot, Noah waves his hand at him and leaves his own seat gracefully, to immediately take the honour of pulling my chair back himself.
"Thank you for giving your precious time to join me for dinner," he says, taking my hand in his when I finally stand on his side. "I shall walk you to the front door."
I take the walk from the dining room towards the front door by Noah's side, the palm of his hand that is placed on my back as he calmly guides me on my way leaves a subtle warmth that is both foreign yet comforting. It is the first time he touches me or to be so close to me, since the time he took my hand at the day of the funeral. And it is the first time I let anyone touch me ever since the passing of my fiancé.
I try my best to divert my attention away from the warm touch on my back just to keep my senses as clear as day, but I can't help but notice how the touch sends my heart to flutter.
Perhaps it is the fact that this man will soon be your partner, both in life and in business, or perhaps I missed the simplest of touches on my skin. Whatever it could be, I refuse to find out the reason why. And thankfully, just when I am so close to losing my calm, I am now both standing at the front door and ready to bid my goodbyes.
Noah's hand leaves my back as he steps forward and takes the handle of the front door. He suddenly stops himself from pulling the door to open fully and turns his body to look at me.
"If you don't mind me asking," he said suddenly. Hesitant―from the looks I catch in his eyes and how he subtly purses his lips―and curious. "When was your wedding day supposed to happen?"
I smile at him forcefully. I have been expecting him to ask me about it that I have been preparing myself on how to respond, assuming that once the question appears, I would be hurt by the memory of it. But now when he is actually asking me about it, I feel nothing. I feel too numb to be true.
"Today," I answered him with a soft voice, the kind of voice that causes the light in his eyes to flicker with pity, guilt, and sadness. "Today was supposed to be my wedding day."
Noah lowers his face while he pulls the door to fully open. But right before I take another step forward towards the exit, he catches my hand gently before leaning down to leave soft kisses on my knuckles and on the back of my hand.
"Please drive safely."
"Thank you," I said to him, keeping my voice the best I can from shaking. "I will wait for your call, Noah Sullivan."
*
The sky is already so dark when I drive my car into the driveway of my parents' mansion. The sound of the gravels underneath the wheels is the only sound I can hear aside from the car engine. I park the car in front of the house, right next to the family's car, before I turn the engine off and step out.
I am welcomed by the familiar silence as I step inside, which is not much of a surprise really. The spacious mansion has only been inhabited by both of my parents since I left, along with only a few housemaids to help around the house, the old head butler that opens the door and had let me in just now, and one driver who doesn't live inside the house. With the lack of lightings being turned on, I can feel nothing else but the feeling of being so out of place, so foreign in the house where I grew up in. Which, again, isn't a surprise, since I haven't been living in this place for years.
I am currently living in a small quaint apartment at one corner of the big city, the place which I had chosen when I decided to live on my own and away from the fancy life which my family just can't stay away from. Only coming home occasionally for family dinners and to sleep over at weekends.
I walk past the many rooms without looking away through them, already knowing where I will find my dearest mother that must have been waiting excitedly for her only daughter to come. And when I finally caught sight of her in the private lounge at the center of the mansion, I am not surprised to find the room exactly the same as the ones I passed by earlier.
It is dark, ominious, and quiet, with the only light illuminating the room coming from the fireplace, since the curtains on the large-sized windows across the room are closed shut.
My mother is standing in front of the fireplace, a glass of red wine in one of her hand, tilted in such a way as it lingers right in front of her lip, waiting to spill its liquid of amber to the tightly closed lips. While the other hand is resting across her body, right under her ribs. Her eyes are locked towards the dancing fire before her, the lights reflecting perfectly on her cold eyes as they stay unwavered.
I release a sigh as I take in again my mother's sight. While me and my dear late fiancé strived to save the company since the very first day of its fate was decided and written, my mother took the painful blow to her heart. I am able to read every single thing she must endure for the last few years through the lines appearing on her face, the white strains in her hair, and her thinning body.
"Mother," I call out to her, breaking the quiet and my mother's trailing thoughts. She doesn't flinch even just a little, the blink of her eyes becomes the only reaction you get before she turns her head and gazes away from the fire very slowly to look at my way.
"Oh, Alice, sweetheart. You're here," she speaks with a raspy voice and a smile that seems unable to reach her eyes. "How was your... meeting?"
The way she said the word 'meeting' causes me to flinch. But I refuse to let her see it, refuse to show her my hesitation, not when it will only cause problems. She has already been dreading my choice, and so close to not giving me her approval, if not for the need to have our family's wealth and wellbeing back to how it was a long time ago. Therefore, she doesn't need to see any sign of me having any second thoughts. Especially since she had already set out plans of her own on this matter.
"It went well, Mother. Just as planned. Everything will be set, and all I have to do is wait until he finishes all preparation. We barely have to do anything until―"
"Does it have a time limit?"
I look up the moment I hear her question, lifting my eyebrow and ask her for confirmation. "I'm sorry, Mother. But what do you mean?"
"The contract," my mother said, with her body now turned to fully facing me. "Does the contract set any time limit for your... agreement? Before the deal will end?"
I shake my head to answer. "No, Mother. The contract doesn't work that way. The marriage will not end unless we―"
"Then I will be the one giving you the time limit," she cuts me off. "Three months. That's all I give you."
"What?" I stare at her with wide eyes, gasping at her out-of-nowhere demands. I take a few step forward towards her, with my hands reaching towards her hand to be able to reason. "Three months is too soon, Mother. I spent nearly three years to fight for father's company with my fiance, and even with that amount of time, we couldn't do so much. How do you think am I supposed to manage with only―"
"Fine, then I'll give you six," she said with a huff, already seething as if I just told her the most imprudent thing to her face. "I am giving you six months to save our company, to save our family, and bring them down in exchange."
"Bu-But Mother, that's not―"
"You have six months, Alice. Six months to bring down SLV Holdings, the entire company and every single one attached to them, along with every fortune and every single dime they have buried to the ground and to rot, just the way they did to us! That is the reason why we are doing this, and don't you even for a second change your indecisive mind of yours after what you had promised me!"
My mother is now fuming completely before me, her hand clutching over the glass of wine so hard that it seems so possible that the glass could shatter to pieces only by her grip, while her other hand is clenching on her side, filled with anger.
"Avenge our fall, my daughter. Tear them apart into small rotting pieces. And if you can't do this to your father and me, then do it for your dead fiancé. You know damn well that they owe him that much!"