First Encounter

Xander's POV

As my car cruised through the street, I found myself seated in the backseat, rhythmically nodding to the music emanating from the car's music player. Abruptly, my phone began ringing, eliciting a groan from me before I scrutinized the caller ID.

The furrow on my brow eased when I discerned it was my grandpa calling. Without hesitation, I answered the call and placed the phone against my ear.

"Hello, grandpa?" I greeted.

"Xander, why are you putting me through this?" My grandpa's frail voice resonated through the phone.

"What do you mean, gramps?" I inquired, my brows furrowed in contemplation.

"Xander, don't you love your grandpa anymore?" Grandpa queried.

"You know I love you dearly, grandpa," I affirmed.

"That's a lie, Xander. You no longer care for me. You've ceased to concern yourself with my health," Grandpa asserted, prompting a soft sigh from me.

"Grandpa, we both know that I care about you deeply. I love you, and I'll persist in loving you until the day you depart," I reassured.

"I find it hard to believe what you're saying," Grandpa countered.

"How would you like me to prove it then? What can I do to demonstrate the sincerity of my words?" I asked.

"If you genuinely want to prove yourself, bring the woman you're contemplating marrying. Introduce her to me in the hospital this afternoon," Grandpa insisted.

"Grandpa, we've had this discussion multiple times. Marriage isn't on the immediate horizon for me. I want to focus on elevating the family's business. Marriage is not in my current plans," I explained.

"If that's the case, then it implies you don't care about me," Grandpa concluded.

"Grandpa, I care about—"

"Then bring me your wife this afternoon if you genuinely care about me," Grandpa interjected.

"I'm not bringing any fucking wife to meet you!" I retorted and disconnected the call before he could say another word.

I groaned in frustration as I dropped my phone beside me. Ever since I became the CEO of Hemsworth's groups, Grandpa had been adamant about my getting married. Even the stakeholders of the company initially pushed for it, believing the company would thrive with a supportive family structure. However, I defied their expectations and led the company to become the top global enterprise.

While the stakeholders eventually stopped pressing me on marriage, Grandpa persisted. He continued to pressure me to establish my own family. Taking the helm as CEO at the age of eighteen, a responsibility thrust upon me due to my father's brutal act.

When I was a teenager, my father would always come home drunk and beat up my mom. He'd also beat me up whenever I tried to stop him from assaulting my mother. This continued till my eighteenth birthday. I'd never forget that fateful night. My mother and I were clearing up the house after my birthday, and my father came home drunk as usual. This time, he was holding a bottle of alcohol, drinking directly from it.

My mother and I ignored him and continued tidying up the house. Suddenly, my father walked up to my mom and asked her why we celebrated the birthday of a bastard. I knew he was referring to me as the bastard but I said nothing and kept on tidying up.

A heated argument erupted between my parents, and my father unexpectedly slammed the bottle of alcohol on my mother's head. My mother fell unconscious on the ground with blood gushing from her head.

Fear gripped me at that moment, and when I confronted my godforsaken father, he slammed my head on a wall, and I blacked out. I woke up the next day at an hospital, and the nurses told me that my mother was dead and my father was locked up in prison.

The shocking news of my mother's death not only altered the course of my life but also took a toll on Grandpa's health. Since that fateful incident, grandpa had been residing at our family's private hospital, and his relentless desire for me to settle down remained a source of ongoing tension between us.

That day was also the day I stopped believing in love and marriage. That day was the day I vowed never to get married nor fall in love.

Juggling the responsibilities of running a big company and dealing with what my grandpa wanted wasn't easy. Even though I had proven I could handle being a young CEO and making Hemsworth's groups super successful, my grandpa kept pushing me to settle down and start a family.

Work took up a lot of my time, and losing my parents when I was young made things even harder. Despite that, my grandpa is convinced that having a family will make my life better. Every time we talk, he brings it up.

Looking back at how I got here, I knew I had to make sacrifices. Becoming a CEO early, always aiming for the best, and keeping my parents' legacy alive—it had been a tough journey. But the loneliness and my grandpa's wish for me to have a family kept bothering me. It was like there's a struggle between what I should do for work and what he wants for my personal life.

As my car continued navigating through the bustling city of New York, my phone resumed its persistent ringing. A low growl escaped me as I noticed it was my younger sister calling. Initially, I chose to ignore the call, but the incessant ringing left me with no choice but to answer.

"Why are you disturbing me?" I growled, my irritation evident as I picked up the call.

"What's wrong with you, Xander? Why can't you just do what Grandpa wants and settle down?" Alexa, my younger sister, retorted with frustration. "I don't know what's wrong with you, Xander. There are plenty of women out there, and even if none of them suits your taste, your friend Chloe should be a suitable partner for you. She's beautiful, rich, amazing—"

"If this is the reason you called, I'm hanging up," I interrupted, cutting through her attempts to convince me.

"Don't you dare hang up. I called to let you know that Grandpa just had an high blood pressure after speaking with you on the phone," Alexa dropped a bombshell, and my eyes widened in shock.

"What did you just say?" I asked, disbelief coloring my tone.

"I'm sure you heard me right, Xander. So it's best you get your ass over here and do what he wants. Bring him your wife, and if you don't have one, I'll give Chloe a call and tell her to meet you at the hospital. Don't be late," Alexa asserted, and with that, she disconnected the call, leaving me stunned and contemplating the urgency of the situation.

Anxiety gripped me as the call ended. Could my refusal to bring a wife be the reason for Grandpa's high blood pressure? Guilt gnawed at me, contemplating the impact of my words on his health.

"Change course and take me to our private hospital," I instructed the driver, who swiftly slammed on the brakes, executed a sharp turn, and accelerated towards the hospital.

As the car sped towards its destination, worry for Grandpa intensified. Realizing the gravity of the situation, I reluctantly decided to comply with his wishes. The idea of introducing a woman as my girlfriend loomed ahead, a choice driven by the fear that defying Grandpa's request might lead to adverse consequences for his health.

Contemplating potential candidates, my thoughts gravitated towards my friend, Chloe. However, I swiftly dismissed the notion. Aware of Chloe's longstanding feelings for me since our university days, I understood that asking her to pretend as my girlfriend could complicate our relationship. The last thing I wanted was to give her false hope or create unnecessary complications in an already challenging situation.

As I pondered who could act as my girlfriend, a loud cry jolted me, and I glanced out the window to witness a distressing scene. A man was ruthlessly beating a woman in a secluded corner of the street. Judging by the wedding attire they both adorned, it was evident they had just tied the knot. Anger surged within me at the heinous act of the newlywed husband assaulting his bride.

"Stop the car!" I commanded the driver, and the vehicle came to an abrupt halt. Stepping out without hesitation, I approached the disturbing scene.

"Hey, coward, stop assaulting that woman!" I shouted, my anger evident as I closed the distance. The assailant ceased his attack, shooting me a glare.

"Mind your business and stay out of this!" he retorted defiantly. Disregarding his warning, as he attempted to resume the assault, I swiftly intervened, delivering a powerful punch that sent him crashing into a nearby wall.

The impact of my punch echoed through the air as the assailant crumpled against the wall, momentarily stunned. The bride, now free from her attacker's grasp, cowered in fear. I stood between them, a mixture of anger and concern etched across my face.

"You don't lay a hand on a woman, especially not your wife!" I admonished the aggressor, my voice laced with disapproval. The man, still recovering from the punch, glared at me with resentment.

"You should've stayed out of it," he grumbled, nursing his bruised pride.

"I won't stand by while someone is being mistreated," I asserted firmly. "Now, leave before things get worse for you."

As the assailant regained his composure, a surge of anger propelled me forward. Determination etched on my face, I closed the distance with quick, purposeful strides.

"You don't learn, do you?" I seethed, my fists clenched. The man attempted to retaliate, but I skillfully dodged his swings and delivered a series of calculated punches. Each strike was a forceful reminder that violence against women would not go unchallenged.

The bride, now freed from the immediate threat, pleaded with me, "Please stop! It's enough!" Her tearful plea echoed in the dimly lit corner of the street.

Ignoring her pleas, I continued to overpower the aggressor, fueled by a determination to make him understand the gravity of his actions. The husband, disoriented and outmatched, finally staggered back, realizing the futility of his resistance.

"Leave, and don't ever lay a hand on her again," I demanded, my tone unwavering. However, he remained on his spot, glaring at me.

Turning my attention to the bride, I softened my expression a bit. "Are you okay now?" I asked, concern replacing the intensity that fueled my actions moments ago. She nodded, grateful for the intervention.

"I appreciate your help, but please, no more violence," she pleaded, her eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and trepidation.

Understanding the impact of the situation, I nodded and turned my attention back to her husband. "You don't deserve to be a man. You're nothing but a useless piece of shit!" I spat before walking back to my car.

"Don't drive to the hospital, yet. Move forward a bit and stop the car," I instructed my driver.

The driver did as instructed, and when the car came to a stop, I stepped out. I walked back to check if the man would continue assaulting his wife or not. Infuriation surged through me when I witnessed the man aggressively beating up the woman again.

"I swear I'm gonna end this today!" I muttered through clenched jaws as I removed my suit jacket. I dashed towards the man, lifting him off the ground and slamming him down before he could react.

He screamed in pain as I unleashed a barrage of punches fueled by memories of my father assaulting my mother. In that moment, the man's face became my father's face, intensifying my fury. My punches became harder, and each blow was a cathartic release of the anger that had built up over the years.

The situation escalated, and I couldn't shake the haunting images from my past. The relentless punches reflected not only my desire to protect the defenseless but also a deeply rooted resentment toward those who perpetrate violence. As the man writhed beneath my blows, it became clear that my actions went beyond this particular confrontation—it was a visceral response to the scars left by my own father's history of assaulting my mother.

"Stop this, please!" The bride pleaded as I continued disfiguring her husband's face with my anger-fueled punches. Six of the man's teeth flew out, and my hand was already stained with blood, but I didn't stop.

In that intense moment, it felt as if I were punching my father for the unforgivable acts he committed against my innocent mother.

"Stop punching him, please!" the wife screamed in tears, and I halted my punches before rising to my feet.

The man now looked unrecognizable due to the brutal impact of my relentless assault.

"Jonah, are you alright?" the wife asked the man, but he was too weak and wounded to utter a word. The man eventually passed out.

"I know you're defending me, but you didn't have to take it too far!" the woman yelled at me, tears streaming down her cheeks.

It was evident that, despite the assault, she still harbored feelings for the man. The fact that she cared about him angered me even more.

"I can't believe you're too blinded by love to see that this bastard isn't the right person for you," I retorted in anger, frustration boiling within me at her apparent unwillingness to break free from an abusive relationship.

"You're in no position to tell me the right person for me!" She yelled back.

"Yes, I am!" I retorted. "I stopped him from assaulting you the first time, and when I left, he continued assaulting you. Can't you see he no longer loves you? Can't you see that you're not safe with him? Can't you see that this bastard has nothing good to offer you?" My voice resonated with anger, and the woman fell into a contemplative silence.

"You're right," she finally spoke after a moment of reflection. "He has nothing good to offer me." She diverted her gaze from her unconscious husband to me. "But do you? Do you have something good to offer me?"

A smirk played on my lips as I confidently replied, "Yeah, I do."

"And what can you possibly offer me?" She inquired, raising a questioning brow.

"I'll give you riches beyond your imagination. I'll give you anything you want. I'll provide you with everything you need," I promised.

"You'll give me all these at what cost?" She asked, probing the terms of my offer.

"You'll be my wife for six months," I stated. "Once you agree to be my wife for six months, then consider yourself the richest woman in New York."

She remained silent, contemplating my proposition. Glancing at her unconscious husband, then back at me, I could tell she was contemplating whether to accept or decline my offer.

"So, what do you say? Are you in or out?" I asked, my smirk widening as I awaited her decision.