AIDEN

When Dad informs me about my marriage match at dinner, I bite my tongue. I want to protest, but that would be a waste of breath. Dad's orders are ultimate and binding.

I've learned to be optimistic about every challenge I encounter in this household. I try to find the good side of every displeasing task that comes my way.

The lady I'm expected to marry may be the perfect remedy I need, following my recent breakup. I don't have to love her, since our union is a marriage of convenience, purely contrived for a business purpose.

Besides, my issues with commitment are a factor to contend with. Marrying her will nip my rakish lifestyle in the bud, as my home training won't allow me to cheat while bound to another woman, even if not willingly.

"Who is she?" Beatrice asks, seemingly unaware of this announcement.

I shovel my food into my mouth, barely tasting it, and chew slowly. This is my typical conduct – acting like I'm not there. I only speak when I'm told to speak. I avoid making any noise with my cutlery, lest I attract Beatrice's scornful look.

Being the subject of that look has taught me to be the perfect dinner companion, with impeccable table manners.

Beatrice hates me with passion, and she's made that fact obvious since I was brought into this house.

Lachlan, my stepbrother, shares similar sentiments with his mother. They perceive my presence as a threat to Lachlan's future as the company's successor.

If only they knew about my apathy toward power struggles. I'm grateful for the luxury I enjoy here, but fighting over the inheritance of a man who wouldn't have sought me out if my mom hadn't abandoned me on his property is the last thing on my mind.

"My mom told me she'd be back," I recall, the memory still etched in my mind. But all I saw was her back as she walked away. She never returned. I have no idea if she's dead or missing. It's as if Violet Gallagher's memory and existence never existed.

Moreover, Beatrice regards me with contempt. My background makes her deem me unfit to eat off her pet's plates, let alone share meals with her.

I noticed the abhorrence radiating off her the first moment her eyes set on me. I was wearing my worn-out school clothes, which dulled in comparison to her garish and expensive-looking dress.

I had already braced myself for her disdain, judging from her expression. Still, I put on a cheerful facade. Despite the jabs, flak, and insults, I brush them off with an air of indifference.

They're more irritated by the fact that their actions don't dent my happiness. However, that's a half-truth. I hide my hurt deep down, where they can never see it. Only when I'm alone do I cry out loud, waxing nostalgic.

"Hermione Watson Pierce," Dad answers.

"Watson Foundation," Lachlan inquires, drawing his brows together.

My ears perk up at the name, but it doesn't strike a chord.

"She's a brilliant lady with a bright future ahead of her. Why pair her with him?" Beatrice demands, looking baffled. She casts a pointed glance in my direction. "Lachlan would have made a much more suitable match for the lady."

Dad grunts. "My reasons are none of your concern. Their marriage has nothing to do with suitability or compatibility." Dad waves one finger in Lachlan's direction. "Aren't you seeing someone already?"

Lachlan shifts in his seat, his head hanging low. "No," he responds, before adding, "Our relationship isn't serious," when he observes Dad's skepticism. He can't fool Dad; I'm sure the old man has eyes on us everywhere we go, keeping tabs on our lives. Lachlan doesn't have to attempt deceit to win his favor; Dad can easily sniff through the lie.

To be honest, I have no idea why Lachlan is trying so hard. It's no secret that he's the eventual heir of the company, my presence notwithstanding.

The fact that Dad has placed me in a key role within the company's hierarchy doesn't mean he's setting his sights on me over Lachlan, the son he's groomed as his successor for years before I entered the picture.

I snort under my breath. I doubt the old man will bequeath any of his inheritance to me. I'm the good-for-nothing, long-lost son of the Mendes family, who ought to have remained hidden. Lachlan is the golden son, and everyone knows it.

Dad responds to Lachlan's statement with another grunt. He's a man of few words, not cold, but indifferent. I never feel comfortable under his scrutiny. I rarely see him smile. His aura is intimidating and radiates unease.

"You two should get to know each other. Your marriage plans will kick off soon," Dad informs me.

I shift my focus to him, asking, "How soon is that?"

When his eyes connect with mine, I promptly break eye contact. His eyes look hollow, filled with depths that leave shivers in their wake.

"When do you plan to have the marriage held?" I ask, speaking as though it's not my marriage being discussed.

"In a month's time."

"Okay." I nod.

"It's up to you to charm her. Try to gain her affection. It's what you do best," Dad says, gesturing dismissively in my direction. "Perhaps the only thing you're good at," he adds.

I flatten my lips at the direct insult. I hear Lachlan's snicker across the table. I ignore him, tuning out of the ensuing conversation.

When I finish eating, I silently leave, grumbling a halfhearted goodnight to everyone. I don't get a response, not that I anticipated one anyway.

****

"You don't mean it?" Ray laughs when I tell him about my upcoming nuptials when we meet the following evening.

He's amused that I'll be standing at the altar before he does, given my attitude toward anything long-term and involving commitment.

"Who's the lady?"

"It's Hermione Watson Pierce. I heard she's a prodigy in surgery and all that." There were plenty of praises about her when I looked her up online. Her photos showed a poised woman with piercing green eyes and raven-black hair, her smile radiant and confident. But I'm not naive enough to trust everything the media says. Except the articles written about me – those are accurate.

"Yes, I've heard of her," Ray says, tapping his chin.

I lean forward, curious to hear what he knows. "Any insight into the real woman beyond the screen?"

"She's not normally the type of woman you'd go for." Ray shrugs. "You know how it is with medical students, especially one with her level of excellence at her age." Raymond tilts his jaw meaningfully at me.

I sag back in my chair, holding the waist of my beer bottle. The dim lighting of the restaurant and the hum of conversation around us create a cozy atmosphere, but my mind is elsewhere. "I bet she's an arrogant, narcissistic, and mean woman." A tortured sigh escapes me, and Raymond waves a hand in consolation from across from me.

"My condolences, brother," he says.

"I dread my future now, Raymond. Getting married to Hermione Watson will be a nightmare," I moan aloud, bemoaning my predicament.

"I'm glad our feelings are mutual." A sonorous female voice echoes behind me, sending a shiver down my spine.

I turn to face the owner of the voice as she stands up from her chair, facing me squarely. Our tables are placed side by side, although the seating arrangement keeps our backs turned to each other. Otherwise, I would have noticed her.

My heart skips a beat when our eyes lock. My mouth falls agape as recognition sparks. I'm staring at Hermione Watson Pierce in person, and I just talked badly about her in her presence.

The soft overhead lighting illuminates her features, making her even more breathtaking. I close my mouth, work my jaw, and open it back to apologize, but she speaks before I can.

"It was nice meeting you too, Aiden Mendes," she says, her voice as silky as a siren's. It lures me in, and I drink in its euphony. She smiles, and her eyes sparkle with amusement.

What was I saying about my future with Hermione Watson Pierce? I take my comment back. I earnestly look forward to a marriage with this woman. She's perfection in its physical form.

When she excuses herself to leave, I don't stop staring after her until Ray clears his throat. He looks questioningly at me, a knowing grin across his mouth, when I turn back to face him.

"Mmn?" Ray urges.

"I'm smitten, bro. I think I've fallen in love," I whisper, dreamily conjuring Hermione Watson Pierce's beautiful form in my head.

HERMIONE

I stormed out of my mom's office in annoyance the previous day. However, I still looked up the details of the second son she had chosen for me. His reports were just as egregious as the prospect of getting married to his father - a reckless playboy with a lackadaisical attitude toward his duties. I wondered what my mom was thinking, trying to matchmake me with a man like him.

She was concocting another of her manipulative plans, deliberately choosing the less ambitious Mendes brother to gain the upper hand in our marriage. I cringed at the thought of my life with him, being played like a puppet at my mom's disposal.

When I recalled his thoughts about me, which I had overheard at the restaurant, I couldn't help but tut. Our paths crossing had been an unexpected turn of events. I hadn't realized he was sitting behind me until he mentioned my name. I'm not the type to eavesdrop on other people's conversations, but the restaurant's setting wasn't conducive to subtlety.

I had almost choked on my food at the abrupt mention of my name. A stinging sensation speared through my chest, and I rubbed the center of it, trying to process my emotions.

The shock written on his face when he realized the object of his gossip was sitting right behind him was gratifying.

Aiden Mendes is an attractive man, I have to admit. With his blonde hair and blue-green eyes, he's quite handsome. However, from his physical appearance to his personality, he's a far cry from my ideal type of man.

I slow down my pace on the treadmill and get off, reaching for the towel and water bottle nearby. After wiping the sweat off my face and drinking a huge amount of water, I return the bottle cap to its place. My breathing is uneven from the exercise. I head to the shower to wash off the smell of sweat, brush my teeth, and change into my nightdress.

As I plop down on the settee, my phone rings. I reach for it, noticing Dad's name on the screen.

"Hello, Snugglebug," his calm voice says, and I stifle an eye-roll, biting down on a smile. Dad never ceases to taunt me with the moniker, which contrasts sharply with my personality now.

"Dad made my childhood bearable," I think, recalling how he's always been calm and easygoing, perhaps too calm, as Mom often dominates his authority. I try to see him as a supportive partner, but it irks me how Mom overrides him.

"I heard about your argument with your Mom," he says, bringing me back to the present.

"Yeah." I nibble on my middle finger, staring at the walls far away. I'm sure Mom must have told him all the details.

"The decision is yours to make, Hermie," he says, using his typical phrase.

I sigh, feeling frustrated. It seems like Dad's always sitting on the fence when there's a disagreement between me and Mom.

I love my dad, but I wish he would take a stand sometimes, especially when it comes to Mom's overbearing behavior.

"You are an adult now, Hermione. Your life is in your hands. However, whatever actions you take, remember to think the consequences through."

His advice isn't particularly helpful, as I'm still at a crossroads with Mom's decree hanging over my head.

"Alright, Dad. Thanks for calling," I say drily. I blow a kiss over the phone, signaling him to end the call.

"Won't you be visiting at all? Don't you miss us?"

"I miss you," I confess.

"Just me?" Dad teases, his tone filled with mirth.

We both know the answer to that. Since I went to medical school, I never moved back into my parents' house. My residency at the hospital was automatic – I didn't have to worry about placements.

But I had been eager to get away from my mom's presence that when the opportunity occurred, I vowed to maintain the distance between us as much as I could.

If only Dad lived apart from her...

However, I couldn't wish for my parents' marriage to have issues because I couldn't stand my mom's controlling nature.

"Is that Hermione?" I hear Mom's icy voice in the background, and I murmur a quick goodbye to Dad.

However, Mom beats me to it before either of us could end the call. She must have yanked Dad's phone out of his hands.

She had ordered me out of her office following her ominous laughter, but I know she's seething within, contemplating how best to make me succumb to her will.

"I have arranged for you to meet with the Chairman's second son tomorrow," my mother states, her authoritative voice cutting through the speakerphone.

I flatten my mouth, feeling a surge of frustration.

"We already met," I reply, trying to keep my tone neutral.

There is a hint of skepticism and suspicion in her words. "You have?"

"Yes," I affirm. "And I'm still firm on my stance that I don't want him as a partner. It's not a decision to be taken lightly, Mom."

"I never asked for your opinion," she retorts, her voice firm but laced with a hint of annoyance. "My instructions are clear, and you will abide by them."

"Mom, the man doesn't like me," I explain, trying to reason with her. "He hates the idea of marriage with me. Our feelings are mutual. Why are you forcing this?"

"Did he say it to your face that he didn't like you?" she asks, her tone dripping with doubt.

"I'm not every man's cup of tea, nor is he mine," I reply, trying to convey my point without being confrontational.

Why am I even discussing this with her? I frown, feeling a sense of exasperation.

"If this is about a business arrangement, we can find a way to make it work rather than forcing a union on..." My mother hisses, interrupting me.

"You are marrying him," she declares, her voice firm and unyielding. "He's a suitable partner for you. You are at a marriageable age, after all."

"But I'm not ready to settle down," I complain, a sense of desperation creeping in.

"He will be your partner," she reiterates, her tone brooking no argument.

I hold my tongue from arguing further, knowing it's futile. There's no point arguing with my mother when she's made up her mind.

"I don't like him," I murmur beneath my breath, resignation washing over me.

"You don't have to like him," my mother replies, her voice devoid of emotion. "Marriage out of love is a mere fantasy for girls with no ambitions. Love is an ephemeral feeling. You need to think ahead. I didn't raise you to be sentimental."

I feel a sting from her words, knowing she's implying that my father wasn't a suitable match for her.

"Why did you marry Dad, then?" The question slips from my mouth before I can help myself.

My father clears his throat in the background, and I sense a flicker of tension in the air.

"This is why I'm emphasizing that you should marry into a good home and not be impulsive as I was during my youth," my mother responds, her tone dismissive.

The insinuation rings clear to both of us, but my mother is unperturbed by it. She continues speaking as though she hasn't indirectly ridiculed her marriage with my father.

"And don't you dare argue with me about this," she warns, her threat firm. "You know you don't want to face my wrath."

I swallow the lump that forms in my throat, feeling a sense of trepidation. I know I'm trapped, and my mother has the influence and resources to keep me in line.

My mother doesn't wait for my response or bid me goodbye before ending the call. I lower the phone from my ear and sag back in my chair, feeling defeated.

I huff in exasperation, putting my phone down on the table. I pick up the remote and turn on the TV, flipping through channels until I find a show that catches my attention.

A sigh escapes me, and I rub my temples, feeling a headache coming on. I know I need to think clearly and make a decision soon, but for now, I just want to relax and forget about my troubles.

AIDEN

My dad's voice is laced with displeasure as he asks, "Did you meet Ms. Hermione already?" at breakfast.

I react instinctively, my spoon clattering against my plate.

At the mention of her name, my heart skips a beat, and a shiver ripples beneath my skin.

Despite having met her only yesterday, my attraction to her runs deep - it is almost otherworldly.

I had spent the entire night replaying my Freudian slip at the diner in my head. But I hadn't pegged Ms. Hermione as the type to run to her mom and tattle. Had she reported our unfortunate run-in last night?

"Yes," I answer, biting my lower lip.

"You had only one task, and you went about blabbering. If this deal falls through, I'm cutting you out of my inheritance," Dad hisses, scowling and waving a finger in warning.

I lower my gaze, murmuring, "I'm sorry."

"You'd better not mess up next time," Dad says, shifting in his chair.

His irritation is palpable; both Lachlan and Beatrice know better than to chip in with the comments burning to be voiced on their tongues. Otherwise, they'll attract Dad's criticism.

I excuse myself after finishing breakfast and drive to work. As I step into the elevator, my secretary, Mr. Neil, greets me with a vibrant smile.

"Good morning, VP Mendes," he says, walking alongside me.

"Good morning, Secretary Neil," I respond.

As the elevator ascends, I glance at Mr. Neil's profile, impressed that he shows no signs of exhaustion despite the heavy workload from the previous day. His ability to remain cheerful under pressure is astonishing. I struggle to multitask as efficiently as he does.

Just as I'm about to head to my office, Mr. Neil stops me. "Sir, you should head to the conference room. I just received a message from the president's office about an urgent executive meeting," he says, holding up his phone.

I raise an eyebrow, checking my own phone for notifications, but there are none. I frown, thinking it unprofessional that Lachlan didn't inform me about the meeting earlier, especially since we had breakfast together.

Upon entering the conference room, I see that it's already filled with top executives. I assume everyone was informed about the meeting beforehand. It seems Lachlan intentionally kept me in the dark until the last minute.

Lachlan sits at the head of the table, his position as president evident. As the acting vice president, I'm the last to arrive, and my chair is the only vacant one, situated to the left of the president. I take my seat, nodding briefly to greet everyone.

The marketing director, head of the strategic planning team, and other executives occupy their respective positions around the conference table. Soft murmurs fill the air as we wait for the president to begin.

Lachlan leans back in his chair, tapping a rhythmic pattern on the table. The murmurs subside, and all heads turn toward him.

When he has everyone's attention, Lachlan starts speaking, his finger tapping silently against the table. "Our market share has declined over the past quarter. We need a new strategy to regain our position."

Director Evans, head of the strategic planning team, speaks up. "I propose we focus on digital content creation. Our competitors are investing heavily in online platforms, and we can't afford to fall behind."

CEO Chris nods in agreement. "I've been researching new formats for online content. We could create a virtual reality experience for our fans."

Lachlan leans forward, his knuckles brushing against his jaw. "Virtual reality? Is that really worth the investment?" His expression reveals skepticism.

"Yes, sir," Director Evans affirms. "VR technology is advancing rapidly, and our fans will love the immersive experience."

"I agree with Director Evans," CEO Chris says. "We should explore new and innovative ways to engage our audience."

Lachlan ponders their suggestions before voicing his approval. "Alright. Let's allocate a budget for digital content creation and VR research. But we need to see results within the next six months."

"Of course, President Mendes," Director Evans assures him, smiling.

Lachlan turns to me, his expression expectant. "You've been quiet."

My brain registers the conversation, but my body isn't fully engaged. It takes a moment for me to realize Lachlan is addressing me. I snap out of my daze, focusing on him.

"Mmn," I respond, buying time to gather my thoughts. I adjust my sitting position, clenching my fist into a ball over the table.

Lachlan's gaze is keen on my face. "What input do you have to add to the matter at hand as Vice President?" he inquires.

I know he's trying to embarrass me, but I'm prepared. "I believe you've already reached a conclusion," I say, glancing at the others. "The ideas they've raised are worth trying."

Lachlan leans forward, his eyes narrowing. "I want to hear your own inputs. We should weigh our options, shouldn't we?"

I meet his gaze, my tone firm. "Let's not go back and forth, President Mendes," I say, emphasizing his title.

"There should be an alternative," he says. He tweaks a finger in my direction, insisting, "Your idea."

I clear my throat, thoughts racing in my head for an impromptu solution. Lachlan's eyes narrow, a hint of amusement in them.

"I'm waiting for your input, Aiden," he says. "Something that will blow my mind."

I take a deep breath. "I've been thinking," I begin. "What if we create a virtual world, a metaverse, where our fans can interact with our artists, attend virtual concerts, and even create their own content?"

The room falls silent, with all eyes fixed on me.

Lachlan raises an eyebrow. "A metaverse? That sounds like science fiction."

I nod slowly. "It's not as far-fetched as it sounds. We can utilize blockchain technology to create a decentralized platform, where users can create their own avatars, buy and sell virtual merchandise, and even attend exclusive events."

CEO Chris leans forward, his eyes sparkling with interest. "That's a game-changer. We could create a whole new revenue stream."

Director Evans nods in agreement. "And it would give us a competitive edge. No other entertainment company is doing anything like this."

Lachlan's expression turns thoughtful, his brows furrowing in silent assessment of my idea. "But it's a huge undertaking. We'd need to assemble a team of experts, invest in new technology... it's a big risk."

"I agree, it's a risk," I respond. "But I believe it's a risk worth taking. We could be at the forefront of a whole new industry. And think of the engagement we could generate. Fans would be able to interact with our artists in a whole new way."

The room falls silent once more as the executives ponder my proposal. They confer with one another, murmuring softly. Lachlan strokes his jaw, considering my idea. I nibble my lower lip in anticipation, awaiting his final verdict.

I had blurted out the first thing that came to mind. I've always been absent-minded in meetings, finding them tedious. During the prior conversation, my thoughts were preoccupied with a certain appealing female, Ms. Hermione Watson Pierce. My father's threat to withhold his inheritance wasn't necessary; I'm already drawn to her.

Lachlan's gruff voice brings me back to attention. "Alright, Aiden. Your idea seems great and worth considering. However, as I mentioned earlier, the risk is too big for a fanfare idea like yours. It's a great idea nonetheless." His nose flares, as if it pains him to admit this.

"We'll be working with Director Evans' idea instead," he continues. "VP Mendes, you'll work closely with the team until the project's completion."

I raise an objection. "I thought I was tasked with getting that exclusive author to sign with us."

I knew Lachlan had no intention of approving my ideas. He just wanted to catch me off guard and embarrass me. Fortunately, my quick thinking never fails me in challenging situations.

"You haven't gotten it done?" Lachlan asks, feigning ignorance about the challenges of securing an audience with the elusive Author X. I suspect he assigned me this project hoping I'd fail, just so he could berate me.

Author X's identity remains a mystery, but their broad fan base and readership make them an attractive collaborator for our company. However, their elusiveness makes it difficult to establish contact.

"The deadline isn't up yet," I reply.

Lachlan scowls, forced to retract his previous statement about partnering with Director Evans. "Step on it," he growls.

I shoot him a pointed look, pursing my lips. Since I've been working under his administration, I've been inundated with tasks, from significant ones to those whose purpose I struggle to comprehend. If not for my diligent secretary, I'd be miserable by now.

Finally, Lachlan dismisses the meeting. "Okay, that will be all for today."

I'm the first to stand up and walk out of the conference room, the sound of chairs scraping against the floor echoing behind me.

As I step out of the conference room, I can feel Lachlan's eyes on my back. A small smile curves on my mouth. It's another win for Aiden.