The smell of polished wood fills my nose as my eyes flutter open. I find myself bound to a chair in a room I can’t recognize. Heavy footsteps echo against the floor and the figure of a man comes to sight. Heavily built, easily 6’3 and with a cigarette between his fingers.
“Diane Carter” He says calmly, drawing closer to me.
“Why am I here? Where is my mother?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Your mother is safe and I’m not here to harm you. I’m here to deliver a message” He sits on the table across me.
“I told you I was going to pay anything Darole owes you. You…”
“Your father, Ryan Carter was framed for rape and murder fifteen years ago” His voice interrupts my speech. The room is filled with silence as I process the words that just came out of his mouth. It’s been almost two decades since my dad was imprisoned. Since then, the name has not been spoken out loud. It’d become forbidden. Something that broke my mother piece by piece until dementia finished what grief started.
“What did you just say?” My voice cracks.
He walks towards a small bar cart, pours himself a bourbon and continues as if discussing the weather.
“Your mom needs the best medical care she can get to prevent her dementia from worsening. The best facilities and neurologists. You can’t afford that. Not with a struggling journalism career and a brother who gambles every night”
“How do you know all of this?” I swallow hard. “Why are you telling me all of this?”
“That’s a good question” He smirks. “You and I know that Ryan was innocent. But in a world where power and money rules, who is ready to believe the powerless? But help is here now”
A bitter laugh escapes me. “You kidnapped me, tied me to a chair, and you call that help?”
Men. They always find a way to twist your suffering into their own version of salvation. They convince you that the hurt they cause is somehow a sacrifice they’re making for your own good. I know that trick too well. I spent three years of my life believing it, loving and defending it until I finally waked away from Liam six months ago.
“You weren’t going to come with us willingly. Besides, Mr. Harrington gave orders”
“Mr. Harrington?”
“ Christian Harrington. The only heir to the Harrington empire”
“This must be a joke” I blink at him.
Christian Harrington? The Christian Harrington? The invisible billionaire no one has actually seen? He rarely appears in public. No one even knows what he looks like. And out of over 300 million people in this country, I somehow ended up on the radar of the only heir to one of the five most powerful families in America?
“ Here” He drops a brown envelope on my laps and orders one of the other men to untie me.
“This is an official contract from Mr. Harrington himself. He is proposing a five year contract marriage in exchange for your father’s case to be reopened. Your mother will receive the best care in the world and you will never have to worry about money for the rest of your life, and generations to come.”
My trembling hands open the envelope to reveal a dense contract. My eyes scan the document and my head spins.
“You don’t have to decide today. He’s giving you a week and whenever you’re ready, you can send an email to the address in the contract to arrange for a meeting”
…
“What? You mean The Christian Harrington wants to marry you?” Carla shrieks so loudly the next two tables turn to stare.
“Shh,” I hiss, glancing around the bar.
“Girl! I hope you’ve already signed the contract,” Nancy says, eyes beaming with excitement.
“No, I haven’t. I find it quite strange and honestly, it’s a little hard to believe. But the document had an official stamp from the family,” I sigh.
“You mean he had you kidnapped only to ask you to marry him? Well, Christian is quite romantic for a ghost heir,” Scarlett giggles, and I shoot her a look.
“I fail to see how this counts as romantic, Scar. It’s quite creepy, to say the least,” Carla groans, taking a sip of her margarita.
“Come on, it is kind of romantic though. Like a movie-style possessive alpha male character. It’s kinda hot,” Scar defends, and I wriggle my nose in disagreement.
“I’m yet to fully understand that document. Too many clauses for a contract marriage. I could use your lawyer brain here, Nancy,” I growl.
“Girl, say less. I’ll meet you at yours tomorrow,” Nancy beams, and I nod.
“Well, speaking of creepy, when last did you see Liam, Diane? Because I have this strange feeling he’s stalking me. I was minutes away from reporting him to the police last week,” Carla says, and my heart skips a beat. It’s been six months since I ended that toxic relationship, yet his name still gives me anxiety in the worst possible way.
“I haven’t seen him since I left. And I hope it stays that way,” I say, gripping my glass a little too hard.
They all give me sympathetic looks, and I offer a small smile. They were my biggest support system while I was in that toxic relationship I couldn’t seem to leave. Once I found the courage to do so, they made sure to be there for me every single day. If I could define friendship, they would be it.
“Well, why does that necklace look so familiar?” I say, squinting at the shiny chain around Carla’s neck.
“It’s the one Ian gave her,” Scar sings dramatically, and I growl.
“Girl, it’s been what—hundred years? A decade? You don’t even know where he is!” Nancy adds.
“I know, I know. Ladies, I still think about him to this day. And it gets worse when I remember I cheated on him and that we would probably still be together had I not—”
“Uh-uh,” I shake my head firmly. “We’re not doing this today. You made a terrible mistake, you regretted it, you apologized, and it didn’t work out. That’s it, Carla.”
“He wasn’t even that cute, to be honest. I still remember his ugly glasses and the weird, awkward smile he would shoot you from a distance. But guess what—I had a dream about him last night.” Scar says
I laugh so hard I thought I would die.
“And what possibly happened in the dream?”
“Well, he’s become ten times hotter… and we made out.”
“Ouuu,” they all chorus.
“Rule No. 8, remember? We don’t flirt, kiss, or make out with each other’s exes,” Carla points out.
“Girl, it was just a dream,” Nancy reminds her.
“Dreams are no exception,” Carla fires back, pointing, and I can’t hold my laughter.
After a few more drinks, I decide to head home, my mind buzzing over the document. A decision I have to make in the next five days—one that could either ruin or brighten my future… and my mom’s. Marriage is a huge step to take. But what had my hope in marriage ever given me in the past three years? Nothing but lost confidence, a fractured mind, and empty pockets over a toxic relationship. I always felt like I lost a piece of myself.
Maybe… just maybe… this was a solution. Another step in my reinvention journey.
I’m about to open the door to my car when an all-too-familiar voice cuts through the night air.
“Diane.”
My pulse doubles, and suddenly the air feels too thin to breathe. I take in the figure in front of me.
“What are you doing here, Liam Reed?”