Chapter 1: Fatal Collisions

The rain that drenched the evening turned everything into a swirl of city shadows and headlights. I gripped the shabby strap of my purse tighter as my heels clicked on the damp sidewalk. The cold was biting, but I felt trapped for more reasons than the weather. Tonight served as yet another reminder that life has a humorous way of leading you into traps.

"Hey, take a look!"

As I staggered back, the man's voice was piercing, a howl of frustration. He had bumped into my shoulder as I ran to stay out of a puddle.

As I struggled with the strap that had fallen off my shoulder, I murmured, "Sorry," without raising my eyes.

"And you have a great ability to ignore your surroundings."

Irritation surfaced as my head surged upward. I anticipated a conceited urbanite who believed that their exquisitely fitted coat was the centre of the universe. What I saw was worse: a man with a jawline carved from arrogance, dressed too sharply for his own good. He didn't appear to mind that his umbrella was tilted slightly, allowing a stream of rain to fall across his suit.

I tried not to seem frustrated as I said, "Look, it's raining, it's slippery, and people are bumping into each other." It's not illegal.

His piercing blue eyes narrowed as he remained motionless. "It seems that spatial awareness is not required tonight."

Pulling my coat firmly over me, I squirmed. "And it seems that manners have gone extinct."

He sent off a smirk that fell short of his eyes. "Touché."

For one beat too long, there was quiet. "Some of us don't have time to stand in the rain and debate pedestrian etiquette," I muttered as I began to walk by him.

He said, "Hold on," in a gentler but no less authoritative tone. "This was dropped by you."

He was handing out a crumpled flyer when I turned around. A promotional leaflet for *Love Affair*, the matchmaking agency I was meant to meet tonight, made my stomach turn.

I hesitated for a moment before grabbing it out of his hand. "Thank you."

I didn't like how his brow furrowed as he continued to stare at the flyer. *Affair of Love*? I didn't anticipate that.

My cheeks began to flush with a mixture of annoyance and shame. "Why would you give a damn?"

With a trace of humour on his lips, he shrugged. It's simply ironic. You don't appear to be in need of such a service.

I tucked the flyer into my coat pocket and shot back, "I didn't realise you were qualified to judge."

He grinned more broadly. "You wouldn't believe how frequently I am."

I was about to respond sharply when a sleek black sedan pulled up to the curb, and he went away without saying anything more. The driver emerged with an umbrella in his hand, an older man in a pressed suit.

The driver bowed his head and said, "Mr. Franklin, you have a meeting in five minutes."

Franklin. That name was like a blast of icy frost. In this metropolis, it just indicated money, and it wasn't really prevalent. large sum of money.

The man, who appeared to be Williams Franklin, looked back at me before I could figure it out. "I take it you're going to *Love Affair*?"

"What makes you concerned?" I lost my temper.

"Just a hunch," he said in a mysterious tone. The door of the car then *thunk* shut behind him as he slid inside.

With a knot in my breast, I gazed at the taillights as they vanished into the downpour. I couldn't decide whether his arrogant demeanour or the fact that he had seen the flyer irritated me more. In any case, I hoped to never see him again.

I took a deep breath, pushed the experience from my thoughts, and walked down the street in the direction of *Love Affair*.

The building's immaculate exterior, glimmering with refinement and warmth, made it stand out like a light in the storm. I shook the wetness from my coat as I stepped inside and looked around the modern decor. I was greeted with a professional smile by a woman at the front desk.

"Ms. Harrington?" she enquired in a perfectly courteous tone.

"Yes," I said, astonished that she was already familiar with my name.

"This way. Mr. Franklin is here to greet you.

I went cold. "Pardon me?"

The woman's smile remained fixed. Williams Franklin, Mr. He has asked to speak with you privately.

The room appeared to tilt for a second. "Some mistake must exist. I'm come to talk to—

She pointed to a set of glass doors that opened into an extravagant lounge and remarked, "Everything's been arranged." "If you will, Ms. Harrington, follow me."

Curiosity blazed as hot in my breast as panic did. For what reason is he here? More significantly, what was it he wanted from me?

I paused, looking at the doorway. I had not intended this. My gut told me to get out of there.

The rain outside, the growing expenses at home, and the feeling of drowning that had followed me for weeks came back to me, though.

I straightened my shoulders and, against my better judgement, followed her through the doors.

Williams Franklin was sitting in an armchair as if he owned the house, and there he was. His smirk had returned, and it was more venomous than before.

"It's funny to see you again," he said with ease.

I didn't try to hide how annoyed I was. "Surely this isn't a coincidence?"

"No," he leaned forward to confess. "It isn't."

It was the weight of unspoken intents, not fear, that sent a chill down my spine when he spoke.

He spoke again before I could question why I was actually here.

"How would you feel about marrying me, Ms. Harrington?"

The preposterous and ridiculous words lingered in the air. I stared at him, my heart pounding, trying to figure out whether this was some terrible joke.

Then I understood that he wasn't kidding.