Page 5

Ravyn drove into my father's expansive compound, the unwinding driveway leading us through meticulously manicured lawns and hedgerows trimmed to perfection. The space sprawled before us, an oasis surrounded by towering trees and high stone walls.

As I sat in the front passenger seat, my heart raced with anticipation as we drew closer to the imposing structure looming ahead, its brick exterior softened by flowering vines and ivy.

The sound of chirping birds and the gentle rush of the fountain filled the air, accompanied by gravel crunching beneath the car's tires. Ravyn pulled over in front of the majestic Campbell Manor, its Georgian facade gleaming in the sunlight and tall windows sparkling like diamonds, reflecting the sun's rays.

She killed the engine and turned to face me, concern coloring her eyes. “Hey, are you sure you'll be alright?” Her brows arched, accentuating the worry etched on her face. “I can come with you if you want,” she suggested, her tone calm and gentle.

I managed to curl my lips into a smile, appreciating her concern. “Thanks, Ravie. But I'll be fine.”

She didn't seem convinced; her eyes were fixed on my face, studying me. However, prying wouldn't be of any help, so she let it go—for now.

Her eyes crinkled at the corner as she reached out to embrace me. “I'll call you later.”

I nodded, retaining my smile before opening the door. It clicked quietly, and I stepped out, eyes lingering on the imposing structure in front of me. I heard the car engine roar back to life, and seconds later, Ravyn drove away, leaving me with my anxiety.

I drew in a deep breath, my mind reeling from all the thoughts tugging at it as I made my way into the house. Once in the foyer, my heels clicked against the polished marble floor as I quickened my pace, my footsteps echoing off the high walls.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” a sharp feminine voice stopped me in my tracks.

My shoulders slumped, knowing I was about to get pissed off. With Darcy, it was inevitable.

Darcy was my stepmom: a tall, beautiful thirty-two-year-old blonde with green eyes, a petite nose, and a flawless complexion that seemed almost unnatural.

However, as gorgeous and attractive as she was, she was trouble—a force to be reckoned with. Darcy was feisty, neurotic, and high-strung. When upset or stressed out about something, she'd transform into a verbal tornado, unleashing sharp words that would leave her victims reeling.

Darcy and I never saw eye to eye, mainly because I couldn't see her as my mom. She tried at some point to act all nice and kind when my father had just recently married her. But as time went by, she lost interest in winning me over, and when she had her own daughter, she stopped trying altogether.

I'd always known that her claims to love and care for me were nothing but claims—fake. I could see right through her, and she hated it. Now, we were like two parallel lines that would never meet.

Every day for the past decade, I blamed the cold hands of death for taking my mom from me at a young age. If she were still alive, Dad would never have married Darcy—if anything, she would've been his mistress. At least that way, I wouldn’t have had to deal with her attitude—her insecurities and anxieties. The woman was a piece of work, constantly seeking validation and control.

It was good that her daughter Hannah was nothing like her. It would’ve been catastrophic dealing with two Darcys in the same house. The eighteen-year-old Hannah was more like our dad, calm and calculated.

“Your father's world is crumbling, and you waltz in here like you're doing him a favor.” She folded her arms across her chest as she stood by the staircase, her voice dripping with venom.

I was already used to her attitude, thanks to decades of being around her. I was almost numb to her erratic behavior.

“Hey, Darcy. Missed you, too.” I arched my brows, unfazed by her condescending remark.

She watched me in silence for a moment before a dismissive laugh broke from her lips. “You have no idea what's going on, do you?”

Underneath those emotional landmines, she looked worried. I could see it in her gaze. Her immaculate appearance was disheveled, her blonde hair tied back in a loose bun with dark circles lining her eyes.

Whatever was going on with Dad had really gotten to her, and that amplified my fear and anxiety.

“If you knew what I do, you'd be raising hell right now,” she added, her face reddening.

“What's going on?” I asked, my voice calm and collected.

Darcy had a way of effortlessly making mountains out of molehills. Maybe she was just exaggerating the situation…right?

“Your father never listens to me!” she raised her voice slightly higher than normal, a deep scowl settling on her face. “In fact, no one in this house does!” Her arms flailed as she spoke.

I groaned at this unnecessary drama, pinching the bridge of my nose. She was talking quite alright, but she wasn't answering my question. Classic Darcy.

She continued, demonstrating with her hands, her tone laced with frustration. “If he’d listened to my advice, we wouldn't have been in this situation. But no! He just had to do it the Oscar Campbell way. Now, look where we are!” Darcy's voice cracked open, unleashing a flood of pent-up emotions. Her words exploded like fireworks, each one fueled by frustration and exasperation.

“You're not answering me, Darcy,” I said, my patience wearing thinner by the second as I rubbed my forehead in a massaging motion. “What's going on exactly?”

“Go ask him yourself,” she answered, her chest rising and falling. Her face contorted into a frown. “He's waiting for you in the living room.”

With that, she spun on her heel and stormed off, leaving me to my controlled anxiety.

Again, I drew in a deep breath and picked up my pace, my heart racing faster than before, thanks to Darcy.

As I stepped into the expansive living room, enveloped by the soft glow of the chandelier and the sweet scent of fine luxurious sofas, I locked eyes with him.

He sat on a couch, clad in an auburn robe, feet stretched out across the sparkling marble floor, one over the other. A bottle of wine and a half-filled crystal glass stood tall on a stool to his left.

I swallowed, letting out a soft exhale as I approached him, my eyes never leaving his face.

“I heard Darcy's voice echoing through the foyer.” He chuckled lightly, his dark hair simmering under the chandelier. “She filled you in yet?” He lifted his hazel brown eyes to meet mine.

“No, she didn't,” I replied, squinting, attempting to study him.

For someone whose world was crumbling to the ground—according to Darcy—Dad sure looked calm, speaking in a smooth tone. Maybe she had been exaggerating; it was possible. But then again, I knew my dad all too well. The man was a master at concealing his emotions when he wanted to.

“Dad, what's going on?” I halted in front of him, my chest heaving slowly. My anticipation was growing stronger by the second.

He sucked in a deep breath, and I knew then that this was serious. Darcy wasn't exaggerating after all.

“You might wanna sit down,” he said, gesturing at the sofa across from him. “This one's heavy.”

His last statement caused my breath to catch, stopping my heart for a moment. This tension—this suspense—was unnecessary, and it was killing me.

I sank into the sofa, the leather crunching beneath my weight.

He leaned forward, staring at me with a more serious expression. “I need you to keep an open mind, Lorena,” he began, his tone hinting at the gravity of what was about to unfold. “I need you to put on your maturity cap and understand what I'm about to tell you. Can you do that?”

I could literally hear the sound of my own heart beating heavily in my heaving chest as I struggled to stay calm and in control.

I nodded subtly.

“Good.” He cleared his throat. “The company is in trouble. We're facing financial ruin, Lorena. For months, we've been trying to stay afloat, but it's clear now that bankruptcy is inevitable.” His voice was laced with solemnity, and a glimmer of anxiety flickered in his eyes.

A sudden chill ran down my spine as his words hung in the air. I blinked rapidly; a myriad of thoughts overlapped in my head as I struggled to process this information.

“There are accusations of money laundering, embezzlement, and corruption deep within the Campbell Enterprise,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“Jesus Christ.” I lowered my head, pinching the bridge of my nose. My mind threatened to explode from all those thoughts.

He massaged his temples. His eyes, once vibrant and bright, were now dull, devoid of the confidence that used to beam from within. “Because of this damaged reputation, no one is willing to help, and all our investors are pulling out. We're on our own, Lorena.”

Dad had worked so hard to build this company from scratch, and now it was like he was watching his life's work crumble in front of him. We were on the verge of losing everything.

If Dad went bankrupt, then that would mean that we'd have to liquidate assets and sell off divisions—maybe even the house and the car. We'd essentially lose the only lifestyle we’d been accustomed to.

Shit!

No wonder Darcy was so pissed off. This was terrible— horrible . It was suddenly hot in here, and I was already starting to sweat in weird places. I tried to think, but my mind was too busy racing back and forth.

Thousands of possibilities flashed through my head in a split second, but I was unable to come up with something meaningful. I was blank—numb. I feared the worst, and that had me physically and mentally paralyzed.

“Every cloud, they say, has a silver lining,” Dad uttered, retaining his calmness.

I jerked my eyes to him, brows narrowing as I wondered where he was going with this. Was he trying to say that there was a solution to the problem? My anticipation returned, doubled this time. I wanted to hope for the best, but I was too afraid of being wrong.

“Lorena,” he called softly, heaving a sigh, “there's a way out of this.” He pinned his gaze on me like a hook to a fish.

My eyes widened, a wind of relief blowing across my face as my expression softened. “Oh, God, Dad, you didn't have to scare me like that when you knew that there was a solution to this.” I cackled nervously, my brief moment of bliss fading away as I noticed his blank expression.

He was quiet, watching my smile trail off, his gaze still lingering.

“What's wrong?” I questioned, tilting my head to the side, curiosity and bewilderment etched on my face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Remember when I told you to put on your maturity cap?” He jogged my memory, his tone dropping to a whisper.

“Yeah…?” I furrowed my brows, hating the feeling of being kept in suspense.

“I'm gonna need you to put that on now—”

“Dad!” I cut him off, fresh out of patience. “What is it?” came my demanding tone.

“There's an organization that's willing to help us out of this mess,” he said, then paused for a moment and swallowed. “The Tarasov Bratva.”

My breath lodged in my throat, eyes slightly widening in shock as I went silent, beaming a disapproving glare at him. The name “Tarasov” made my skin crawl, and my face contorted into a frown.

I knew exactly what those manipulative and ruthless devils were capable of. Their reputation preceded them, and I was certain they would never willingly agree to help out of the goodness of their hearts. Those bastards had something up their sleeves.

“What's the catch?” I asked Dad, my scowl deepening as I anticipated his response.

“What?” he muttered, brows rising.

I knew he’d heard me the first time; he was only preparing himself to answer, and something told me that I wasn't going to like what he'd say.

“Why are they helping us? What's in it for them?” I rephrased, my gaze never leaving his.

His lips pursed into a line, but he maintained a straight face when he said, “You.”

I snapped my head back, confusion clouding my features as a nervous laugh came forth. “What…what do you mean by that? What does that mean, Dad?”

“It means you'll be getting married to Alexei Tarasov next month….” he blurted out, refusing to look at me.

“What?” I sprang to my feet reflexively, as if propelled by an invisible force. My brows raised in disbelief, and my eyes widened with terror.

He continued, ignoring my disapproval. “All the necessary arrangements have been made. Everything's been planned.” He managed to meet my eyes and added coldly, without remorse, “You're tying the knot with Alexei Tarasov come next month.”

“You can't be serious, Dad!” I barked, my voice trembling with incredulity as I stumbled backward.

“I'm afraid I'm dead serious, Lorena,” he replied, his expression cold and unyielding.

I shook my head vigorously, protesting. “No, no, no, no—this can't be happening!” My fingers flew to my temples as if trying to hold my reeling thoughts together. “You can't do this to me!” I thundered, eyes misting as I stared at his face, searching for any sign of jest or reassurance. Sadly, I found none.

He wasn't kidding.

My face contorted in a mix of anger, disappointment, and confusion as I pinned my gaze on him. My lips parted, my mouth hanging open as if in search of what to say, but words eluded me.

“This was why I asked you to put on your maturity cap….” He was still talking when I lost my temper and snapped at him.

“Maturity cap? Are you kidding me, Dad?!” My voice, dripping with venom, echoed through the living room. “You're practically selling me off to a mafia organization. Those people are cruel, and you're willing to give me up just to save your stupid pride?”

“Watch your tone, girl!” he snarled, eyes blazing red. Deep creases formed between his brows as he rose to his feet. “I am still your father, and I will not have you disrespect me.” The command and authority in his tone caused me to flinch away.

His stern warning reminded me of my place, and my voice fell silent, tears streaming down my cheeks as I stared at him. I was burning with rage. My lips were trembling, and my jaw tightened. But underneath that rage was a scared little girl, disappointed at her father for trading her in for his company's reputation.

He exhaled sharply, taking a few steps back. He rubbed his eyes and then his face. “Do you think this is easy for me?” His voice dropped to a whisper.

I was so overwhelmed by all these emotions surging through my body that I couldn't even speak. I was too numb.

“The Bratva doesn't commit to long-term alliances on a piece of paper, Lori. They seal it with family ties—marriage,” he said, trying to justify himself, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice. “I'm at a crossroads here. We need their help, and they won't provide it unless a Tarasov marries a Campbell. It's basically either you or Hannah, and we both know Hannah is not an option.” The words burst out of him in a frantic rush.

The air was thick with tension as silence fell between us. My heart was aching, shattering into a million tiny pieces.

I hated the Tarasov family but hated Alexei even more. The man was rude, proud, arrogant, and ruthless, with ice in his veins and a reputation for unforgiveness. This was the man my father had arranged to be my husband.

I still hadn't forgotten the way he embarrassed me three years ago at that house party. The way he dragged me outside by the wrist in front of all those people, calling me out as a minor who wasn't old enough to drink, still made my blood boil.

What a hypocrite!

My teeth gritted at the thought of having to answer to that last name in just a month's time. Dad knew what a monster Alexei was, yet he went ahead to plan my marriage without my consent.

He’d just ruined my life and expected me to understand because it would benefit the family business—bring it back to its former glory. I was the sacrificial lamb he traded in for more wealth and power.

I would never let the bastards take Hannah. Never . She was still way too young, too kind and naive to be a part of such a monstrosity. She was underage, anyway, making me the perfect candidate for this.

I'd always known that Dad was the type of man who would do anything and go to any length when it came to business. However, I never imagined that he'd someday trade me in.

His decision hurt me, and from the looks of things, he wasn't going to back down, nor did I have a choice in this matter. He made it clear: It was either Hannah or me.

He drew closer, placing both hands on my slumped shoulders. His eyes bore into mine. “We need this alliance, Lorena. It will benefit us all.”

I wiped my tears, taking a deep breath. My fate had been decided already, and there was no use in running away. This was my reality now. I would be marrying the devil himself in a month.