He is ruthless

Stepping out of the airport, I immediately spotted them—my parents standing in a row,, smiling and waving. Their familiar smiles warmed my chest, and for a moment, the weight of everything I’d left behind felt lighter.

Dragging my suitcase, I ran into my mother’s arms, her embrace the sanctuary I hadn’t realized I craved so deeply. "Mom," I whispered, my voice trembling, "I've missed you so much."

"Welcome home, sweetheart. You look thinner. Have you been eating properly?" Her hand stroked my hair gently.

Back then, for the sake of study I ignored my parents’ advice and insisted on returning to New York for college. They had reluctantly let me go. Who would have thought that once I left, I would be gone for five years, returning only briefly each Christmas, leaving them to suffer through endless longing?

I was such impolite to me. As tears began to rise, I quickly pulled away from my mother.

“Mom, I’m so hungry.” Her face softened with a knowing smile.  “Come, let’s go home. I’ll make your favorite noodles with gravy.”

I walked out of the airport, arm-in-arm with my parents, laughing and chatting along the way.

The next two days flew by in a haze of comfort and joy. My mother cooked all my favorite meals, my father teased me endlessly, and my brother made fun of how “New York had spoiled” me. I let myself bask in the comfort of home, pretending for a moment that the world outside didn’t exist.

I wanted to forget everything, Ethan, his betrayal, and the storm of marriage waiting just a week ahead—the wedding I didn’t want.

On the second evening, I lay on my bed, half-asleep as the golden hues of sunset filled my room. The gentle knock on the door startled me, and my mother peeked inside.

“Sweetheart, it’s time to wake up. Your brother invited him to dinner.” she said, her tone casual yet expectant. I froze, instantly awake.  “him?”

She stepped inside, smoothing the hem of her apron.

“The boy. The one you’re supposed to marry. It’s a good chance for you two to meet before the wedding.” she said, brushing off my question.

“I don’t want to meet him,” I protested, sitting up straight.

“Don’t be stubborn, Lena.” she replied firmly. “It’s just dinner. You don’t even have to like him. Just be polite. For us.” Her words tugged at my heart. With a heavy sigh, I nodded, dragging myself out of bed.

I dressed quickly, throwing on a simple dress, hoping to make this encounter as unremarkable as possible. As I descended the stairs, I heard voices coming from the drawing room—my brother’s laughter mingled with a deeper, unfamiliar tone. I stepped inside composing myself.

"Here she is, Lena, my precious sister," my brother said, standing up with open arms. I glanced at his warm, affectionate expression, mustered a smile, and made my way toward him.

"Lena, meet him. This is Abraham Blackwood, heir to the Blackwood empire, his family controlled wealth and power that spanned industries." He gestured toward a tall figure with his back to me. The moment I stepped ahead, he turned slowly and my breath caught in my throat. The shock of seeing him struck me like a bolt of lightning.

No… It can’t be him.

But it was.

Sitting there, casually sipping tea, was him—the man from the bar.

For a moment, the room went silent, the air thick with tension. His expression shifted from amusement to something darker, more calculating. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. The memories of the night in the bar flooded back—his arrogance, his rude comments, his piercing gaze that had felt so unsettling.

I stared at him, still in shock. But he leaned back in his chair, his posture too relaxed, as if he were perfectly comfortable now. His smirk remained as if this was all some kind of game to him.

 “I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, his voice low, almost amused. “What a surprise.”

“Oh, good! You’ve met him already? That makes things easier!” My brother’s tone was cheerful. “Where did you meet him, Lena?” At his cheerful question, I forced myself to look at the stranger who was supposed to be my future. His eyes were cold, and calculating, the same eyes that had mocked me just days ago.

"I…" Words failed me. My body moved before my mind could catch up, turning and rushing up the stairs.

"Lena!" My brother’s worried voice called after me, but I didn’t stop.

I slammed the door shut, my hands trembling as I pressed my back against it. Would he tell my family what happened that night?

He wasn’t just some stranger from a bar. He was the man my family had chosen for me to marry—the billionaire heir who held the future of our family’s business in his hands.

But none of that mattered. What really bothered me was how he’d treated me the night we met. The harsh words. The coldness. The rudeness. He hadn’t even given me a chance to explain myself.

I didn’t want this marriage. I didn’t want him.

I sank to the floor, burying my face in my hands.

 “There’s no way he’ll still want to marry me,” I whispered to myself.  “He’ll back out now. He has to.”