"Are you okay?" I murmured close to her ear, the woman trembling in my arms. She tapped my shoulder weakly, and I took the hint, raising my voice. "Babe, it's going to be fine."
A soft chuckle escaped from her, muffled against my chest. Relief spread through me—she was holding on beneath it all. Still, the way she'd walked in here, the way she'd collapsed into my arms—it had all been too raw, too real.
She sniffled, lifting her head at last. Her red-rimmed eyes met mine, lashes clumped with tears, and her skin was blotchy, raw from crying. Another tear rolled down her cheek, and I instinctively reached up to wipe it away.
"Don't leave me too," she whispered, her voice fragile, like it might break if I said the wrong thing. The words caught me off guard. Did I promise her something I wasn't ready to? Everything about this felt heavier, more real, than I'd expected.
I searched her face, trying to make sense of her plea. No signs of pretense—just agony. She looked so utterly lost. "I won't," I said, steady but quiet. Her eyes flickered with doubt, like she didn't believe me. "I won't leave you alone," I repeated, firmer this time.
She nodded and pulled my hands tighter around her waist, hugging me like I was the last thing tethering her to the world. I held her close, feeling her shudder against me.
A sharp clearing of a throat snapped me out of the moment. My head shot up, and there stood Isabelle, my so-called fiancée, glaring at me with a disdain that could cut glass. Her arms were crossed tight over her chest, her mouth pressed into a thin line.
Her gaze locked with mine, and she rose to her feet, her movements sharp. Without a word, she nodded toward her parents, and I followed her gaze to see their expressions—disgust, barely masked.
"Ms. Pembroke, you let us bring our family here to witness this?" Isabelle's mother spat, her voice brimming with venom as she marched toward my mother. Her sharp features turned to ice as she faced her. "I never imagined you'd allow this kind of humiliation, Sierra."
My mother, who had remained uncharacteristically quiet, glanced between me and the seething family in front of her. "I... I didn't think this would happen," she said, her voice stiff. "He's just a fool."
Isabelle's family clustered around her, all performing their outrage as they guided her toward the door.
We'd met only a handful of times before this arrangement, and I'd seen her true colors almost immediately. Spoiled. Entitled. And someone I knew I could never share my life with.
"I thought you were responsible. I'm shocked to see you're just like every other person out there," Isabelle's father barked, signaling for his family to follow. His tone was harsh, but his expression carried more sadness than anger. I couldn't fault him; he'd hoped for someone independent to be by his daughter's side. Now, they'd lost what they thought was a perfect match.
The family left in a flurry of whispers and stiff, judgmental looks. My mother's voice echoed behind them. "Janet, we'll fix this. I'll call you—I'm truly sorry." She stayed planted on the couch, her hands folded tightly in her lap.
I glanced at my father. As usual, his face was a blank slate, betraying no emotion, not even interest. He sat back, calm as a stone, watching it all unfold.
The woman in my arms shifted, lightly tapping me to get my attention. She pointed toward the couch—where Isabelle and I had been sitting not long ago. I nodded and guided her there. She settled, her gaze searching mine, and I gave her hand a small, reassuring squeeze.
"What is all this, Grant?" my mother snapped, breaking the silence.
"Grant is—" the woman beside me began, but my mother's sharp glare silenced her mid-sentence.
"I am not talking to you, young lady," my mother said coldly, her voice cutting like a blade. "I'm talking to my son."
"I'm sorry," the woman whispered, her voice barely audible.
"It's okay," I said gently, then turned back to face my mother. "It's exactly what you saw. I told you—I have a girlfriend."
"Well, I didn't expect... that!" she shouted, her voice trembling as she perched on the edge of the couch. Her legs jittered, each movement sharper than the last. "You humiliated me!"
"For that, I'm sorry," I said, keeping my tone steady.
"And how exactly do you plan to fix this?" she shot back.
"There's nothing to fix," I replied firmly.
Her hands clenched into fists, and she turned to my father, desperation seeping into her voice. "Honey, tell this ingrate that I've been fixing his life since the day he was born! And now, he suddenly thinks he knows better?"
The word hit me like a weight dropped in my chest. Ingrate. That word had been her favorite dagger for as long as I could remember, and it still cut as deep as ever.
"Let's hear what he has to say," my father interjected, his voice calm but final.
"You coddle that boy," my mother muttered bitterly, leaning back in her chair with a scowl. She crossed her arms but fell silent, letting him take the lead.
I took a steadying breath, forcing my gaze away from her and turning to my father. Before I could begin to explain, I felt a warm hand close over mine. I turned to her—the woman beside me—and she nodded, her expression a quiet reassurance. She pulled my hand gently onto her lap, holding it tight. For a moment, it felt like she'd pressed air back into my lungs, letting me breathe again.
Before I could speak, she did.
"I'm sorry for causing such chaos here," she began, shifting uneasily in her seat. Her voice trembled slightly, but there was resolve beneath it. "I'm Aria. My parents chose that name because it carries power across so many languages. They were travelers. And of all the meanings my name holds, there isn't one I wouldn't bring into Grant's life. I'll be his melody, his strength, his vitality." She paused, glancing briefly at my parents. "Please, don't tell me to stay away from him. He's all I have now."
I turned to look at her, stunned by the raw vulnerability in her words. Every second she spoke drew me further into something deeper than I'd intended to go.
"So this is it? You're going to ruin your life for her?" my mother snapped, venom dripping from every word. "Isabelle's family could have paved the way for you—helped the group grow stronger. And here you are, sitting with a girl rambling about her life."
"Don't disrespect her like that again, Mom," I said sharply, the words coming out firmer than I'd planned. Her name—Aria—echoed in my mind, grounding me, keeping my temper in check.
"And what—"
"Enough of that," my father cut in, his voice hard as steel. He turned to me, his expression unreadable. "What family is she from?"
Aria spoke up before I could respond. "My surname is Bennett," she said quietly. "There isn't much more to say. My parents are gone. I'm an only child." Her grip on my hand tightened as if bracing herself for the reaction.
"No offense, Aria," my father began, his tone measured but cutting. "But, Grant, what could an orphan possibly offer you?"
"Dad!" I barked, the word laced with frustration.
"It's okay," Aria said softly, though her hand didn't let go of mine.
"No, it's not," I replied, my voice unwavering. "Marriage isn't transactional. It doesn't have to be."
"Like it or not, it is exactly that," my mother interjected, her tone sharp enough to draw blood. "The economic side is the most important part of marriage, you idiot. Always heading for disaster—just like a damn bastard."
Her words snapped something inside me. I straightened, my voice calm but cold. "You've predicted my downfall so many times, Mom. But I'm still standing. That doom you've been hoping for isn't coming near me. And this 'bastard'"—I gestured toward myself—"won't be marrying anyone you hand-pick like you're shopping for livestock. Stop disrupting lives for your own games."
My mother's knuckles went white as her grip tightened on the arm of the couch. Her face turned pale with anger as she whirled on my father. "Did you hear what your son just said to me?"
"He said he won't choose that path," my father said, his tone calm but firm. He leaned back in his seat, unmoved by her fury. "And maybe it's time you listened to him."
"Son, you're just dating," my father said, his tone deliberate, as though trying to rein me in. "Let's give it some time and see what happens."
"Nothing more needs to happen," I replied firmly. "I already know I don't want anything else hanging over my head. I love Aria."
My mother scoffed, a harsh sound that felt like a slap. "That's your problem—you think you're grown just because you started a company and it was a success. Who do you think gave you that? I did. I fueled your growth, raised you, and gave birth to you in a favorable environment. You owe your life to me!"
"Sierra," my father cut in, his voice steady but with an edge. "You did all of that with the second one too, and look at him—he's still struggling. Leave the boy alone." He turned his attention back to me. "But you, Grant, you understand what's at stake here. This is the pivot point in your life. Choosing wisely will save you. And you still have to get married before the date we planned with Isabelle."
"That's not happening," I said, keeping my voice calm despite the rising tension. "I haven't even discussed this with her. None of this was ever real."
"You have to get married to take my position, Grant. That's not up for debate," my father replied, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I glanced at Aria. Her eyes darted nervously, trying to make sense of the whirlwind surrounding us.
"I'll discuss this further with you, Dad," I said, attempting to buy time.
"No, don't!" my mother snapped, cutting me off. "Marry her. Isn't that what you want? Marry her and see how fast your life spirals. What do you think we are—a joke? Your father is demanding you take responsibility, and here you are, dragging your feet. Go ahead—marry her and race toward your doom."
"I'm not going to drag this out any longer," I replied, my tone firm and final.
"Aria, you say you love him?" my mother shot back, her eyes narrowing on Aria like she was issuing a challenge. "Marry him then. Show us what you're really worth. In fact, marry him right now."
Aria stood there silently, her expression calm and resolute. She didn't rise to the bait, didn't flinch, and for a moment, her quiet defiance made my mother falter.
"I said—" I began, but my mother wasn't done.
"—You're letting your father ignore your brother, just like you always wanted! Isn't this what you've been waiting for, you selfish bastard?"
My hand curled into a fist. I clenched tighter, breathing deeply, trying to rein in the anger threatening to boil over. Before I could respond, a loud, deliberate footstep echoed from the staircase, followed by another, each one heavier than the last.
"Mom, I'm out. I'm going to see Rachel," my brother's voice rang out as he appeared at the edge of the room. "And haven't you finally finished negotiating this marriage?" he added with a lazy smirk, oblivious to the storm in the air.
"And that's the one headed for doom," my father muttered, glaring as Hunter sauntered into the living room like he hadn't a care in the world.
"Mind the one playing mind games and tell him to get married as soon as possible!" my mother shouted, her voice shrill and cutting through the tension.
Before I could respond, Aria stood abruptly. My eyes snapped to her, following her movements as she turned to face my mother with the biggest grin I'd ever seen. Something had shifted in her, sharp and undeniable.
"I will marry him. Right now. Instantly," she said, her tone bright and unwavering. Her eyes flicked between my brother and my mother, as though daring them to challenge her.
My heart stopped. My eyes went wide. This was not part of any agreement we had when I hired her to help me with this. "Aria…" I reached for her arm, desperate to ground her, to stop whatever was happening. But she stepped just out of reach, her expression unreadable.
I stood too, searching her face for a hint of anger, fear, anything that might explain the sudden outburst. There was nothing—only a calm determination. It was as if the words "marry her" had finally sunk in after thirty minutes of relentless chaos, and she'd made her choice.
Aria pressed both hands to her mouth, her eyes sparkling with what looked like astonishment. "Thank you," she said brightly, her voice trembling just slightly. "It's so nice to meet all of you. And the next time you see me, I'll be a great daughter-in-law."