But beneath the tension, something else had shifted between us. A strange sense of understanding had settled in. I could see now why he had approached me, why the deal was so urgent. This wasn't just about business. This was about a father trying to make sure his son was taken care of after he was gone.
It was hard not to feel sympathy for him. He wasn't just one more CEO trying to protect his empire. He was a father who cared, who wanted to make sure his son didn't fall apart when he wasn't around anymore. And for reasons I couldn't quite explain, I wanted to help him. Not just because it was a good deal, but because I felt like I owed it to him somehow.
I exhaled slowly, my mind racing with thoughts of what was to come. The next year—or two—wasn't just about me playing a role for the sake of appearances. It was about helping a family, giving Edward peace of mind in his final days.
"I'll do my best," I said quietly, but with enough determination that I knew he would hear me over the hum of the car. "I'll make sure it works. For you, and for Mark."
Edward glanced at me, his eyes softening for just a moment. "Thank you, Abigail," he said simply. There was a weight behind those words that didn't need to be explained.
The silence returned, but this time, it wasn't uncomfortable. It felt like a mutual understanding had passed between us—a quiet agreement that we were both doing what we had to do.
_
As we drove toward the estate, I found myself more determined than ever. Edward didn't have much time left, but I was going to make sure he didn't have to worry. I was going to see this through.
But what I didn't know yet what, or better, who, I would be facing.
_
As we pulled up to the estate, I felt my nerves intensify. The mansion loomed above, even grander than I'd imagined.
'And this is the small one' I said to myself sarcastically.
Everything was big, from the lawns to its height, making me feel small. Edward parked the car and turned to me, a small smile easing onto his face, the kind that felt oddly… reassuring. Almost like a father's.
"Nervous?"
I managed a small smile. "A little. It's… a lot to take in."
He nodded thoughtfully, a glimmer of warmth in his eyes. "Abigail, I just want to thank you again for everything you're about to do. It means more than I can express. And I have no doubts," he continued, "that you'll handle everything beautifully."
Hearing him say that made my heart skip. There was a sincerity there, something almost paternal that made me feel just a little less like I was taking on this role alone. I wasn't used to this kind of encouragement, and for a moment, I let myself hope that maybe, just maybe, I could handle this.
"Thank you, Edward," I replied, my voice barely a whisper. "I really want this to work out. I want to help."
And I meant it. Knowing what he was going through, and what all of this meant to him, gave me a new sense of purpose. It wasn't just a job or a deal anymore; it was something more.
Edward's expression softened even more. "What you're doing is… selfless. I know it can't be easy to step into a situation like this, but know that it matters. And I'm grateful." He paused for a second. "You'll be meeting Mark in a moment," Edward said, glancing up at the house. "I don't expect it to be easy right away, but I know he'll come around. Just… remember that, alright? He's a good man at heart, and he'll see who you are in time."
I nodded, a small pang of nerves settling in again. I'd known this was coming, but now that we were here, the reality of it all hit harder. I was about to meet Mark Rowley—the man I was supposed to be a support for, a partner to, in some strange way.
The man who, from this moment forward, I would need to convince that I was worth trusting.
Edward reached over, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "You've got this, Abigail. Really. Remember, he needs someone like you right now, even if he doesn't know it yet."
The door swung open as Edward climbed out, motioning for me to follow. I took a deep breath, steeling myself before stepping onto the stone driveway. My heart thudded with each step as we made our way to the front door, a massive, carved piece that seemed designed to make you feel small.
As he unlocked the door and pushed it open, I stepped inside, the echo of my footsteps filling the grand foyer. The interior was just as grand as the exterior, with high ceilings, polished marble floors, and a sweeping staircase that curved up to a second level. But before I could take in any more of the details, a figure appeared at the top of the stairs, descending with measured steps.
Mark Rowley.
He was taller than I expected, and no doubt, he was handsome, dressed sharply in a dark suit, his expression unreadable. But as his eyes scanned over me, a flash of something sharp, something bitter, flickered across his face. I could feel his judgment in that single look, the way his jaw tightened and his brow creased.
He came to a stop just a few feet from us, his gaze now focused directly on me, and the first words out of his mouth were cutting.
"So," he said, his voice dripping with disdain, "this is what it's come to, then? Dad, I leave for a week, and you've already set up wedding plans with a young, eager, bride?" His tone was icy, laced with a contempt that sent a chill through me.
The accusation hit me hard, like a slap I didn't see coming. He thought I was marrying Edward.
He thought I was some young, naive girl, desperate for a wealthy husband. A gold digger.