Chapter 3 - A Silent Storm

 

The way back home is a blur of streets, buildings, and anonymous faces. My feet move forward almost automatically while my mind remains trapped in that cold office, where everything seemed to transform into something I can’t name.

Alexander Hawthorne.

I knew he’d be intimidating. There’s no way a man with his reputation wouldn’t be. The ruthless magnate, the heir who built an empire with his own handsor at least that’s what they say. A man many would call untouchable, unapproachable.

But no story, no rumor, no financial magazine article could have prepared me for him in person.

Tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a perfectly tailored suit that seemed molded directly to his body. A sculpted face, striking features, eyes as cold as the ice that seemed to run through his veins.

And yet...

He’s beautiful in a way that unsettles me. Not just because of his physical appearance, but because of his presence. Alexander Hawthorne fills the space with a quiet strength, with an authority that demands obedience without needing to ask.

And that scares me.

My fingers are trembling as I unlock the door of the small apartment I call home. The cold doorknob contrasts with the warmth of my sweaty palms. I close the door behind me with a heavy sigh and lean against the wood, as if I need its support to keep from collapsing.

I said I needed time to think.

But what is there to think about?

The proposal is clear: one year of marriage in exchange for paying off the debt that’s destroying my family. One year living alongside a man who looks at me as if he can see right through me, as if he’s analyzing every move, every expression, searching for something I don’t even know myself.

A cold, calculated agreement.

And I have to accept it.

Because there’s no other way out.

“Finally!” My brother’s voice cuts through the silence, full of irritation and impatience.

Leo is sprawled on the living room sofa, his eyes glued to his phone as he chews on something he found in the kitchen. He doesn’t even bother to look at me.

“Where were you? You took forever.”

“I was taking care of some important things, Leo.” My voice comes out more tired than I’d like.

He rolls his eyes.

“Of course, because you’re always ‘taking care of important things,’ right? Meanwhile, the internet was almost cut off again today. How do you expect me to live? Without Wi-Fi?”

“The internet was almost cut off because we’re drowning in debt, Leonardo!” My patience, already fragile, snaps for a moment.

He finally looks up from his phone, but not to show remorse. On the contrary.

“It’s not my fault Dad screwed everything up. You’re the one who likes to play the responsible one.”

The coldness in his words hits me like a punch. But I should be used to it by now. Leo is fifteen, but sometimes he seems five when it comes to empathy or acknowledgment.

I take a deep breath, trying to regain control.

“I’m doing this for both of us. Everything I do is for you.”

“Oh, sure. Because this is exactly what I wanted: to live in this tiny apartment with a sister who thinks she can fix everything by herself.” He gets up from the couch, crossing his arms. “Why don’t you get a better job? Or, I don’t know, marry someone rich and end this once and for all?”

His words echo inside me with cruel precision.

“Marry someone rich.”

“It’s not that simple, Leo.”

“No, you’re the one who makes everything complicated.”

He storms off, heading to his room and slamming the door behind him.

“Did you visit Mom?” I shout to be heard through the wood.

“You know I hate hospitals!” he snaps from inside.

I sigh. Nothing new. Since our mom was hospitalized, Leo has only visited her onceand that was because I dragged him there.

I stand in the living room, the weight of his words pressing down on my shoulders. My brother doesn’t understand. He never has. To him, all of this is just a rough patch, a problem that can be solved with the snap of a finger. He doesn’t see the effort, the sleepless nights, the piling bills, the constant pressure to keep everything together.

And now, the only real solution seems to be agreeing to a deal that terrifies me as much as it saves me.

I sink onto the sofa, closing my eyes, trying to organize the thoughts racing through my mind.

What bothers me more? The fact that I’m about to agree to an arranged marriage, or the fact that Alexander Hawthorne stirs a different kind of fear in me?

Because it’s not just fear.

It’s something else. Something I don’t want to admit.

The way he looked at me, with those impassive eyes, as if he’d already figured me out before I even opened my mouth. The way he controlled every second of the conversation, like he was playing a silent chess game where I was just another pawn.

And yet, there were moments when he seemed… human.

But maybe that’s just an illusion.

Men like Alexander don’t care about people. They make deals, manipulate, win. And maybe that’s exactly what he’s doing with me.

I should be scared. And I am.

But a part of me, the part I don’t like to acknowledge, is curious. It wants to know what it would be like to live alongside someone like him, even for just a year.

Is he really that cold all the time? Or is there something behind that flawless facade?

These questions trouble me more than any proposal.

I take a deep breath and open my eyes. The apartment feels smaller, more suffocating than ever. Leo is still locked in his room, probably complaining about me on some social media platform, not understanding that I’m about to make a decision that will change our lives forever.

I don’t want to do this.

But maybe it’s the only way to save what’s left of our family.

Because in the end, it doesn’t matter how I feel. It doesn’t matter the fear, the curiosity, or the impression Alexander Hawthorne left on me.

What matters is survival.

And if that means marrying the devil for a year, so be it.

I get up from the sofa, my thoughts still jumbled, but a decision begins to take shape.

I have to go back.

And accept.