Lucia buried her face into the pillow, her cheeks flushing crimson with embarrassment. The evening's events replayed relentlessly in her mind like a bad sitcom. Malcolm had dared to use a taser on her, right there in front of the entire family, and the worst part was—they had all laughed! Not one word of reprimand, not a single voice of outrage. Instead, they had teased her over dinner as though it was a private joke they were all in on.
Her mortification deepened as she recalled how someone had cheekily remarked, "Guess you'll think twice before messing with Malcolm, huh, Lucia?" Now, to make matters worse, she was stuck spending the night at the Sterling estate.
With a frustrated groan, she flipped onto her back, staring at the ornate ceiling above. Her hands clutched the pillow tightly. How had her life spiraled into this mess? Her mind drifted back to the dinner table from two months ago—the moment that had upended everything.
---
"Lucia, Malcolm, I have something to say which may come as a surprise to you both," Dorothy Sterling began, her calm voice cutting through the quiet dining room. Her eyes swept across the table, landing on both her son and Lucia. "Neither of you has any idea about this."
Lucia frowned, confused, exchanging a glance with Malcolm, whose brow furrowed slightly. Even Meredith and Alice, seated to Dorothy's left, straightened in their chairs.
"What are you talking about, Mrs. Sterling?" Lucia asked cautiously, her curiosity piqued but wary of the ominous tone in Dorothy's voice.
Dorothy placed her hands neatly on the table, her gaze steady as she answered, "Lucia, you are betrothed to Malcolm. There was an agreement signed by your family and ours that when you turned twenty-three, you would be informed of this arrangement."
The weight of Dorothy's words seemed to suck the air out of the room. Lucia froze, blinking rapidly as though trying to process what she had just heard. Then, out of nowhere, she burst into laughter. It was loud, unexpected, and filled with disbelief.
"Mrs. Sterling," she said between giggles, clutching her side. "I understand you're trying to lighten the mood. Maybe you noticed the poker face I've been wearing since I arrived." She chuckled harder. "But betrothed? Me? To Malcolm? Surely you're joking!"
The room fell silent except for her laughter. Dorothy didn't crack a smile. Neither did Malcolm. Even Meredith and Alice, who were normally quick to laugh, sat quietly. They understood the weight of their late father's words, and they knew Dorothy wasn't bluffing.
When Dorothy signaled to Curtis, the butler, he stepped forward, carrying a stack of papers in his gloved hands. He placed them gently in front of Lucia.
"Thank you, Curtis," Dorothy said softly.
Lucia stared at the papers, her amusement fading as her eyes zeroed in on the signature at the bottom. Her father's unmistakable handwriting stared back at her like a ghost from the past. She felt the blood drain from her face.
"This...this can't be real," she stammered, gripping the edge of the table as if the world had tilted. The year her father had signed this agreement, she had been seven years old. Seven! And Malcolm, just ten.
How could her father have done this to her?
Shaking her head in disbelief, she rose abruptly to her feet, clutching her purse. "I need to go," she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.
---
Lucia sighed deeply, shaking herself from the memory. After days of sitting at her parents' gravesite, wrestling with her emotions, she had finally agreed to the marriage. It wasn't because she wanted it—she despised everything about the situation—but she had felt obligated to honor her parents' wishes, even if they were no longer alive.
She stared at the ceiling again, blinking back tears of frustration. This wasn't the life she wanted. Not even close.
---
Amid the flood of memories, fatigue eventually won. Lucia drifted into a restless sleep, her breathing evening out as the tension in her body eased.
Malcolm stepped into the room moments later, his sharp eyes narrowing as they landed on the petite woman sprawled across the bed. Her face was peaceful now, the mischievous spark from earlier extinguished.
He stood by the doorway, his thoughts drifting back to the tea ceremony and her devilish plan to spill hot tea on him. How childish, he thought with a smirk. But the memory of her expression when he turned the tables—when he caught her and tasered her instead—made him chuckle softly. His family's laughter still echoed in his ears.
"Serves her right," he muttered under his breath.
Still, he couldn't deny the nagging annoyance of being forced to share the room with her tonight. Dorothy had insisted, claiming it was only proper for a newlywed couple. If it were up to him, he wouldn't spend another second in her company.
With a resigned sigh, Malcolm grabbed a towel and headed for the bathroom.
---
When he emerged, his hair damp and a towel slung over his shoulder, the room was dimly lit. He glanced at the bed, where Lucia was curled up like a cat, her face buried in the pillow again. He felt a strange mix of irritation and curiosity.
He was about to grab a blanket for the couch when his phone buzzed on the nightstand. He frowned at the screen.
A name he hadn't seen in years flashed across it.
Stephanie.
His chest tightened as he stared at the name, his mind reeling. Why was she calling now? After all this time?
!