Chapter 2

"Diane, please," my father said, turning to her with desperation. "This is the only way we can save the company. Without this… without him… we're finished. The company can't even stand another week. I don't have any money left to pay my staff. The complaints are piling up. But if this man invests in our company… if he just says yes, he'll save us."

He sounded defeated, worn thin from nights of worry and the crushing realization that everything he'd built was at risk of crumbling. My heart ached watching him, but it was Diane's response that brought another layer of tension into the room.

Step-mom didn't hesitate to voice her disgust. "Dale, are you suggesting that Diane marry some crippled man? There are plenty of men out there who'd take care of her, who would invest in the company without a marriage tied to it. Someone other than… him."

She glanced at the lawyer, Mr. Adams, who'd been sitting stiffly at the end of the table, clearly uncomfortable with the rising argument. My stepmother quickly added, "I'm sorry," but her glare still held resentment.

Diane crossed her arms, her jaw set. The idea of sacrificing her future, her freedom, for some man she'd never even met was outrageous to her. But my father's eyes softened as he took a step toward her. "Diane, I've taken care of you all your life. I've given you everything I could. This is your chance to give something back—to save us all."

Diane was quiet, for once visibly uncertain. My father, seizing the moment, turned to Mr. Adams, desperation in his voice. "Please, can you give us just 24 hours? Don't take this contract away. I swear I'll convince her."

Mr. Adams stood up with a heavy sigh, looking both my father and Diane over before giving a stern nod. "Twenty-four hours. But only twenty-four, no more. If you haven't secured an agreement by then, we'll move on. There are other families, other investments worth our time."

With that, Mr. Adams and his colleagues left, leaving an unsettling silence in their wake. My father watched them go, his shoulders slumped, his gaze lingering on the now-empty doorway. Slowly, he made his way upstairs, his footsteps heavy with exhaustion and resignation.

Diane, marriage… to Mr. Volkov? I felt my pulse quicken at the thought. Of all people, why him? Then it clicked—this man was the same Volkov I'd heard whispered about, one of New York's wealthiest businessmen, though mysterious, and rumoured to be disabled. Marrying him for the sake of the company felt like something out of a twisted fairy tale.

Diane had always flashed her beauty and opportunities in front of me, reminding me of everything I wasn't allowed to reach. But now? The irony was almost too sweet. This man could cripple her dreams just as easily as he could save my father's.

While my father headed upstairs, Diane and her mother strode upstairs, My brother Charles sat at the dining table, casually chewing his food, looking as though the family's entire fate wasn't hanging in the balance. I took a breath, approaching him cautiously as I started to clear the table.

"Should I pack your food too?" I asked, noticing the tension in his shoulders.

He glared at me, his expression hard. "Do you think Diane will marry him? Do you think Father…?" His words trailed off in a mixture of disbelief and anger. "How can he be so cruel? Look at how he's treating his daughters. Turning you into a maid, forcing Diane to marry some crippled billionaire. It's disgusting."

Without warning, Charles slammed his plate down, shattering it into pieces. His outburst startled me, but I quickly moved to clean the shards. Before I could say anything else, he strode off, leaving me alone with the mess.

Two maids arrived to help me pick up the broken plate and clear the remaining dishes. After everything was done, I wanted nothing more than to escape to my room and sleep. But the juicy revelation swirling around in my head was just too tempting to keep to myself. I couldn't resist sharing the news with the other maids back in the servants' quarters.

Making my way down the narrow hallway, I knocked softly on the door. As I entered, I was met with eager stares; the other maids had noticed the tension from upstairs.

"Oh my God, what's happening?" one of the maids, Sarah, asked, her eyes wide with anticipation. "Please tell me that witch Diane finally got what she deserved."

I grinned, leaning in closer. "Something even better than that. Diane is going to be marrying Mr. Volkov!"

The room filled with gasps, a mixture of shock and disbelief. "What? Mr. Volkov? The actual Mr. Volkov from New York?" Sarah whispered, looking almost afraid to believe it.

Eleanor, one of the older maids, raised an eyebrow. "Well, I'd rather marry a rich man who's crippled than a poor one who's not. At least she'll be well taken care of."

The others murmured in agreement, but the thought of Diane marrying a man with any sort of imperfection still seemed surreal to them. After all, she'd always been the beautiful, untouchable one.

The conversation unfolded in whispers and bursts of laughter, each maid throwing in a remark or two as we analyzed every angle of this unexpected twist. There was a mix of gleeful satisfaction and disbelief at the thought of Diane's seemingly charmed life being reshaped by this marriage arrangement. The roles felt almost reversed: here we were, discussing her future like it was some tantalizing piece of gossip rather than her reality.

After sharing a few more barbed comments, I finally excused myself, slipping out of the servants' quarters as a soft hum of laughter followed me down the hall. My thoughts were still buzzing with everything we'd just discussed, each step down the hallway feeling a little lighter as if I'd just shaken off some unseen weight.

As I neared my room, the sounds from upstairs drifted into earshot again—raised voices, the tension unmistakable. They were still arguing, their words muffled but unmistakably heated. It seemed as though the night was far from over in the main quarters.

I paused, lingering near the staircase, catching snippets of my stepmother's exasperation and my father's worn-out pleading. Charles's voice cut through as well, sharp and bitter. It was as if all the tension that had been building in our family over the years was finally erupting, spilling out into the late hours of the night.

Turning, I moved slowly to my room, the echoes of their voices following me down the hallway like a distant storm. I couldn't help but wonder how things would unfold by tomorrow, what Diane would decide—or what she'd be forced into deciding. With everything hanging in the balance, the whole household felt like it was holding its breath.

I slipped under my covers, the dim light from the hallway casting soft shadows across my room. As I lay there, the arguing continued, and the words I could catch left me restless, each one hinting at decisions that would impact us all.