~ Unknown POV ~

The night sky glittered with stars as he stood on his rooftop balcony, the city lights sprawling beneath him like fallen constellations. A half-empty glass of whiskey dangled from his hand, the ice long melted. The wind tugged at his shirt, but he barely felt it. His mind wouldn't stop turning.

On his phone screen, the video of the abandoned bride dominated the news. The clip had already gone viral, spliced, remixed, memed, and dissected. Yet he wasn't interested in the spectacle. He was interested in her.

She hadn't cried, not at first. Not in public. Not until the very last second, when her knees gave out and her world visibly shattered.

"Interesting," he muttered to himself.

"Camilla Baker." He tested her name, tasting the weight of it. The faint smile that touched his lips vanished the moment he saw her father's face. Those same eyes stared back at him...haunting him once more, though this time it wasn't just physical. That look of fear and confusion... he wanted more of it.

He wanted to be the reason for that fear.

His lips curled into a slow, humorless smile as he raised the last of his whiskey. Fate had finally handed him leverage, and this time, he would use it.

A low, sharp laugh broke free from his chest, echoing into the night as his grip on the glass tightened.

He pulled out his phone and dialed his PA. It rang a few times before she finally answered.

"Get me a meeting with John Baker," he ordered, ending the call without another word.

--

~ Camilla's POV~

"No... no." My fingers trembled as I stared at the file the house help had delivered that morning.

My name. Bold across the top, right beneath the words Marriage Contract.

And in my father's handwriting.

This couldn't be real.

Mother had gone to the grocery store. Father hadn't spoken to me since the scandal, the wedding that never was. I knew he was furious, but this?

Tears spilled as I pressed the papers to my chest. My life already felt ruined, and now this contract was supposed to fix it?

I reached for my phone and dialed Olivia.

"Hi... can you come by after work?" My voice cracked.

She hesitated. "Cam... I've got a lot to finish today. I don't think I'll close early."

"Oh. Okay." I sniffled, staring down at the file. "It just feels like you've been avoiding me."

"Camilla, that's not true. I've just been busy. Wait... are you crying?"

"It's the same job you've had for weeks. You haven't called, haven't replied to my texts..." My throat tightened and the words tumbled out with the tears.

She sighed. "Calm down. I'm coming, okay?"

Fifteen minutes later, Olivia burst into my room. She wrapped me up without a word, her arms tight around me.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, cupping my face. "I shouldn't have left like that last week. I didn't know what to say to you."

I shook my head. "I just feel so alone. George cheating, the wedding... I just need closure."

"It's been two weeks, Camilla. You have to let him go. He's not worth it."

"It's not that easy," I whispered. "I even tried finding out who that woman in the picture was. The one that came blurred. Someone sent it to me for a reason... I need to figure it out."

Olivia pulled back, eyes flashing. "You what? Cam, we talked about this."

"Relax, I just... I need to know why he chose her over me." My voice shook. "Maybe it'll make sense of everything."

"To what end? It won't change what happened." She dropped my hands and paced.

"I know. But maybe it'll save me from what's coming." I slid the file toward her.

Her brows furrowed as she read, her mouth twisting. "What?! Camilla, this is insane."

"I know my Dad hates me now... but this is too much." My sobs broke again.

"Hey," she said softly, pulling me close again. "We'll figure this out. But stop chasing what's gone, it'll only hurt you more."

We sat on the bed in silence. My chest felt hollow, my head heavy.

"You want a drink?" she finally asked.

"Sure."

She came back with whiskey and glasses. We clinked and drank. The burn stung, but it dulled the ache a little.

"That's heartbreak doing its part," Olivia said with a crooked smile. "Whiskey just plays backup."

A weak laugh escaped me.

We drank, talked, even laughed over old memories. Then the silence came again.

"Do you think I wasn't enough?" I whispered.

"Don't." Her voice was firm. "You gave everything. He's the fool who didn't see it."

I leaned against her shoulder, tears dampening her sleeve. "I feel so stupid."

"You're not. You're human. And humans love the wrong people sometimes. That's all."

I nodded, clutching the glass in my hand.

"What are you going to do about the file?" she asked quietly.

"I don't know. Dad hasn't spoken to me in weeks, and the first thing he does is send this."

"Maybe... maybe it's for the best," she muttered.

I turned my head sharply, but she looked away.

Silence hung between us.

"Where's the whiskey?" I finally whispered.

She poured another round, and we clinked glasses again, slower this time, sadder.

"Thanks for being here."

"Always," Olivia said. "You break, I break. That's the rule."

I smiled faintly. "Best friends."

"Best friends."

But inside, a storm brewed.

If my parents thought they could trade me off like a pawn, they had another thing coming.

Just... not tonight

~ Camilla's POV ~

The next morning came with a pounding headache. My temples throbbed, but it was nothing compared to the ache clawing at my chest. The whiskey had faded, but the memories hadn't. They burned, raw and unrelenting.

I needed answers.

The contract trembled in my hands, though I tried to hold it steady. Every word inked on that page felt like venom seeping into my veins. I stood in the doorway of the living room, staring at my parents as if they were strangers.

"You arranged a marriage behind my back?" My voice was sharper than I expected, slicing through the quiet. "With Travis Walker?"

My father didn't flinch. He sat there in his pressed shirt, coffee cup in hand, as calm as if I had asked him about the weather.

"You're lucky he's even willing," he said.

The words landed like a slap. I glanced at my mother, hoping she'd defend me, but she only shifted uncomfortably, her lips pressed into a tight line.

"I'm not doing it," I snapped. "I don't even know him. You had no right-"

"I had every right," my father cut in, standing slowly, his presence filling the room. His tone was iron, unyielding. "This isn't about rights, Camilla. This is about survival. If you hadn't been so damn foolish, we wouldn't be in this mess."

My breath hitched. My own father-blaming me.

"You're blaming me?"

His gaze hardened. "I warned you about George. From the very beginning, I told you. But you insisted. You paraded your heartbreak in front of the world, and you let the media feed on it. Our name became a joke, our investors walked away, and now you expect sympathy?"

Tears pricked my eyes. His words cut deep, sharper than any headline I had endured.

"I'm fixing it," he continued, his voice cracking for just a moment, almost too quiet to notice. "That's what I do. I clean up your mess."

His voice caught, and for a second he looked less like my father and more like a tired man who'd run out of fight.Then he forced it down, like he always did.

"You think I want this?" His hand tightened around the edge of the table. "You think I don't hate what this family has become?"

Finally, my mother spoke, her voice low. "We didn't want it to come to this, sweetheart. But your father is right. We don't have a choice."

I swallowed hard, anger swirling with grief. "You could have told me. You could have asked."

My father's eyes narrowed. "Would you have said yes?"

The silence between us was my only answer.

"Exactly," he said, brushing past me like the conversation was over. "You're marrying him. That's final. I won't let your pride bury this family any deeper. I've given you enough time to cry over that boy."

My voice cracked. "And if I refuse?"

He didn't look back. His words were ice.

"Then don't bother calling yourself my daughter."

"Dad?!" My voice broke, but he was already gone. I turned to my mother, desperation clawing at me. "Mom, you have to do something. I haven't even recovered from George. How can you let this happen?"

I caught the flicker in his eyes but it vanished, replaced by the calm, unshakable mask she always wore. She wrapped her arms around me, patting my back while I sobbed against her shoulder.

"My baby," she whispered, "your father's mind is made up. It's for the best."

I pulled away, my chest heaving. "This isn't right, Mom. There has to be another way."

"There's no other way, Camilla." Her tone was soft, but her words cut sharper than my father's. "Your father is trying to save your future."

"No, he's saving himself. His company. He doesn't care about me." My voice trembled with rage. "It's not my fault the wedding was called off. Why am I the one taking the blame?"

Her lips tightened. For the first time, her voice turned sharp.

"Because you are the weak one. And the weak always pay the price. That is why marrying Travis Walker is the best decision for you. For all of us. Listen to your father, Camilla."

Her words knocked the breath out of me. My mouth opened, but no sound came. When I finally found my voice, it shook.

"It's my life. You should let me choose. I don't love this man-I don't even know him."

Her eyes narrowed. "And what happened to the man you loved?"

I froze. The mention of George was enough to reopen every wound. She saw the pain, softened, and her voice dropped.

"Listen to me. My marriage to your father was arranged too. Look at us now. Love will come. It always does."

She took my hands, gripping them tightly, as if she could force her conviction into me.

"We love you. If there was another way, we would have taken it. But there isn't."

Then she let go. She hugged me briefly before turning away, her footsteps retreating down the hall.

I stood frozen in the silence, my tears drying on my cheeks. Something inside me shifted. The ache in my chest hardened into resolve.

If they were forcing me into this, then I would face Travis Walker on my own terms.

---

The café was too bright, too cheerful for the meeting ahead. Sunlight streamed through tall window. People around me laughed, worked, and lived as though the world wasn't caving in.

I sat in the corner booth, arms crossed, my stomach knotted.

11:58.

Two minutes early. Just enough time to run. But I stayed, my father's voice echoing in my head.

You're marrying him. That's final.

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep the tears at bay.

A shadow fell across the table. I looked up. A man in dark pants and a blue T-shirt stood there, casual but confident.

"Camilla Baker?" His voice was calm, professional.

I nodded. "You're late, Billy Scott."

"Traffic," he said with a small shrug, shaking my hand.

I leaned forward, trying to steady my voice. "So, what do you have for me?"

He hesitated. "Whoever sent that message doesn't want to be traced. It'll take time."

Of course. Always time. "That's why I came to you. Don't tell me you can't do it."

"I didn't say that. I just need more time."

"Billy, this is my life. If you need more money, I'll pay. Just make it fast."

His expression shifted. "The only thing I managed was a location. An old hotel. But when I pulled the CCTV... everything from that day was gone. Wiped clean."

My shoulders slumped. Back to nothing.

"No nearby cameras? Street footage? Anything?" My voice was thin, desperate.

"There were some," he admitted, "but those were erased too. Someone doesn't want to be found."

He sighed. "I'm sorry, Ms. Baker."

I forced a smile, stood, and left the café with disappointment heavy in my chest.

On the walk home, Olivia's words echoed in my head. Maybe it's for the best.

If I could find out who that woman was, the media storm would die, the investors would return, and I wouldn't have to marry a stranger. But now... now I was trapped.

Maybe it really was for the best.

At home, I collapsed onto my bed, staring at the ceiling as my breath came in shallow bursts. The contract sat on my desk, waiting like a curse. I hadn't even read it.

Dragging myself up, I reached for the file. My eyes landed on the name again.

Travis Walker.

My hands shook as I pulled open my laptop. Within seconds, his profile appeared on the screen.

My eyes widened.

No. It couldn't be.

Of all people-

The man my father wanted me to marry was none other than the arrogant, coffee-spilling jerk I had cursed at the airport.

~Unknown POV ~

The cameras flashed like lightning as Travis Walker's Maserati rolled up to the front of the glass built skyscraper, with the inscription, Walker industries. Reporters pressed against the barricades, shouting his name, questions rolling over one another.

He stepped out of the car, tall, broad-shouldered, face emotionless, every inch dripping with aura. His tailored suit caught the light, his polished shoes hitting the pavement with purpose. He didn't rush. Travis Walker never rushed.

"Mr. Walker, is it true you're buying out Thompson Steel?"

"Travis, how do you respond to the fraud allegations?"

"Are the rumors about your marriage to Ms. Baker true?"

The questions came like daggers, but he was used to reporters swarming him like flies on a carcass.

The last question brought a sly smirk to his lips, he had leaked that little information, now there was no turning back... especially for the Baker's. He was one step ahead of them now.

He adjusted his wristwatch with a flick of his wrist, and continued walking. The bodyguards around him formed a protective wall, as he walked into the building.

Inside the lobby, the chaos dissolved into polished marble and hushed voices. Employees greeted him with careful nods, their eyes darting away as quickly as they landed on him.

He moved elegantly with each perfect stride towards the elevator with his men on his trail. He walked into the conference room on the 48th floor. Men in suits rose as he walked in.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let's get into business" he said taking his sit at the head of the table.

A woman dress in a navy suit stood and walked towards the large screen at the other end of the table. A chart emerge on the screen as she begins her analysis.

"As you can see..."

"Those numbers are worthless now." he said casually cutting her off while silence hung in the air like dread.

"Our numbers are the same as before sir..." She said eyes darting nervously from the directors and board members at the table then to Travis Walker.

"The market doesn't just care about numbers...it cares about who's standing behind them." he said with a smug look on his face throwing deadly glares at the men on the table.

The tension was high, the board members at the conference table shift nervously in their sits as the mumbled words to each other.

"We understand your concerns, Mr. Walker..."

"My concerns?" He gave a dry chuckle, cold more of a warning than amusement.

"Perhaps that was the wrong phrasing," the man stumbled. "What I mean is, while settling down might reassure the shareholders, marrying the Bakers daughter, especially in the wake of their scandal, could damage the company's reputation" he added, the rest of the board members nodded their head in agreement.

"Mr. Smith, I do not appreciate your concerns about my personal life...rather put your energy into making sure it doesn't become a scandal." His fist curled into a ball as his spat the words out, his voice laced with venom.

Murmurs filled the room, and silence followed as he stood.

"That will be all," he said flatly and stood his jaw tightened, he walked out without waiting for a response.

---

Travis stormed out of the board meeting with his jaw tightened. How dare they question his authority? After all these years of carrying the company on his shoulders, of making decisions no one else had the guts to make, they still treated him like a placeholder. The seat of power had never truly been his. But now, with everything so close, with ownership finally within reach, they thought they could dictate terms to him.

Not a chance

He needed to act fast. Get the marriage arrangement finalized, secure his position, and silence every whisper of doubt. Once he claimed the title that was rightfully his, no one would dare stand against him.

"Mr. Walker..." His secretary's voice broke through the storm of his thoughts.

He didn't even look at her. With a sharp wave of his hand, he dismissed whatever she had to say and strode into his office.

But he stopped in his tracks.

Someone was waiting inside.

Seated across from his desk, arms folded, was Camilla Baker.

"Look who we have here," Travis said, tone dry, almost amused. He crossed the room and sat opposite her, his eyes scanning her jeans, white shirt, the ponytail, the casual bag dangling off her shoulder. He almost smirked. If she thought showing up dressed like that would make him lose interest, then she'd better try harder.

"What is it you actually want from me?" she asked, voice low but steady. She leaned back in the chair as if staring down a mafia don.

He studied her in silence taken aback by her question, he knew she was bold but he wasn't expecting a confrontation.

"Wrong question, Ms. Baker."

"Excuse me?" Her lashes flickered in surprise.

"You should be asking what I'm offering you."

She gave a dry laugh. "Offering me? I didn't ask for your help."

"I'm not forcing you into this," he said coolly. "But we both know who'd lose more if you refused."

Her jaw tightened. He was right and she hated that he knew it, but she wasn't giving it without knowing what she was in for.

"Men like you don't offer things without something in return. There's always a price..."

He leaned back, eyes fixed on her."You're my price, Camilla Baker"

Her brows knit. "Why me? You could have any woman. Dozens of them would do whatever you asked. Or is this some twisted way to get back at me?"

"What?! Get back at you for what?" His brows furrowed in genuine confusion for the first time.

Her glare sharpened "Now you're playing dumb,you really don't remember the airport... arrogant coffee slinging jerk" she tapped on the table continuously as if counting the seconds it'll take for him to remember.

Realization hit him after a few seconds, he shot back into loud raps of mocking laughter "Unbelievable!"

"The feisty girl charging through the airport like a bulldozer, never in a million times would i think of seeing you again." a sly smirk played on his lips as he remembered her expression as the hot coffee burned her skin. His eyes dropped on her chest where the coffee had spilled but this time it was covered with her shirt.

Her face turned crimson while she threw him a deadly glare.

"But let's be clear," he said, the laughter gone as fast as it came. His voice was cold, expression unreadable. "This is a marriage of convenience. I get my inheritance. You save your family's reputation. Nothing more, nothing less."

Camilla steadied herself, slid a file which had been sitting unoticed on the desk across to him. "This is my side of the contract. I won't be your puppet. You need me as much as I need you."

Travis's eyes flicked through the pages. A small smile touched his lips, though his face stayed blank and cold. She had fire. He liked that more than he should.

"Your demands are... unique." He signed without hesitation, then set the pen down.

She picked up her copy and stood to leave. His voice stopped her at the door.

"He's quite a man, your ex. Leaving you at the altar like that. Your family must be wrecked."

Her spine stiffened. "That's none of your goddamn business."

"Oh, it's very much my business now," Travis said, eyes locked on hers. "Because I'm the man you'll be marrying."

Camilla shuddered at the intensity of his gaze, stormed out slamming the door behind her.