Fighting Fire

"We've already drawn up the contract. You'll marry the Blackwell boy," my father announced.

I choked on the wine I'd been mindlessly sipping, wondering if I had spent enough time pretending to eat my steak to finally escape the palpable tension hanging over my parents' dining table. 

This was why I hadn't noticed where my father's thoughts were leading when he casually brought up Kaleb Blackwell's eligibility—of all things—while discussing business.

Kaleb Blackwell, the self-made tycoon. The man with a reputation so ruthless it bordered on vicious. He was also the man who had, on multiple occasions, made it abundantly clear he despised me.

Sure, we went to the same high school and we orbited the same exclusive circles. But whatever made Kaleb detest me was still a mystery—one I hadn't cared to unravel.

For years, I'd simply kept my distance, sticking to the safe, invisible boundary between us whenever we found ourselves in the same room. It was easier that way, sparing me from the glares or dismissive remarks. Never, in my wildest dreams—or nightmares—did I imagine our parents would try to set us up.

Yet here I was, the unwitting pawn in a scheme that linked our lives forever.

The small hope I'd held onto—that I might have a say in choosing my future—shattered in an instant. My ears rang from the shock of my father's words, while fear, anger, and disbelief warred for control in my mind.

"Vincent, please," my mother interjected gently, her tone pleading. "Not at the table."

I turned to her, and the sting of betrayal hit me like a tidal wave. Of course, she knew. I shouldn't have been surprised. But she hadn't warned me. That hurt more than anything.

I'd always known my parents were the kind to arrange my future like a business transaction, but a moment's notice would've been nice.

Ignoring my mother, Vincent Clarke pressed on, as if outlining some business merger rather than my future. "Be ready tomorrow, Evelyn. You have a restaurant reservation with Kaleb for the public engagement."

"What?" I croaked, gripping the table so hard my knuckles turned white. Was this really happening? Was my life being stolen from me this easily?

"And clean up any entanglements," he added, oblivious to my rising panic. "A scandal won't be tolerated."

I barely heard the rest. The thundering of my pulse drowned everything out as the room spun.

I can't do this. The thought rose, fierce and unbidden. 

Shakily, I stood, the sound of my chair scraping against the floor and cutting through the tense silence. Pressing a trembling hand to my temple, I managed to say, "I'm sorry, Father. I suddenly feel quite dizzy. It was a long day at the office. I should rest up for tomorrow. I'll get the rest of the details from Mrs. Greene. Dinner was wonderful, Mom. Goodnight."

Before they could protest, I rushed toward the exit of their apartment, my mind spinning. My parents and I lived in the same building, so it only took an elevator ride—five floors down from their penthouse to my place.

My father had paid for this apartment after I graduated from college and decided to live on my own. At the time, I'd thought it was just an overprotective, harmless gesture. But now I see it for what it truly was—a way to retain control over my life.

I entered my apartment in a daze, tears spilling down my cheeks as I sank to the floor by the door.

I had been the perfect daughter my entire life. Never strayed from my father's expectations: attending the college he chose, studying the course he picked, working in the company's lower subsidiary where he placed me, and only associating with people he approved of.

No voice. No dreams. A flower left out of the sun.

Did I have to put up with this too?

"Ah!" I screamed, the frustration bubbling over as I sobbed harder.

What hurt the most was the realization that in trying so hard to be the golden child, I had completely lost myself. I didn't know who I was or what I wanted. I was empty.

So I couldn't pinpoint why the idea of marrying Kaleb Blackwell filled me with such dread. Deep down, I had known my father would make this kind of decision for me. 

But this time I couldn't control my disappointment. The suffocating feeling of being trapped and helpless was too overwhelming to ignore. 

After what felt like hours of crying myself hoarse, one thing became clear.

I had to do something—and quickly.

Because there was no way I was getting hitched to my nemesis.