Adrian Cagliari stood at the apex of the technology industry at 27. He had a keen eye for innovation, setting himself apart from the family business to build his dream company, Tixton, from the ground up. Tixton was now one of Cagliari's major successes, and he was a rising force.

Building and maintaining his family's legacy required a firm hand, making him rather firm and disciplined. He oversaw all matters in Italy and America, as well as other branches worldwide. Domineering, assertive, and principled, he ensured a palpable tension among those who worked with him. It was both a burden and a benefit.

As he discussed with the investors, his secretary and his personal assistant were outside, mentally preparing to interrupt the meeting. Turner then walked into the spacious office, a phone in his hand. Pausing his call, Adrian raised his eyes to his secretary, who felt a chill run down his spine.

"I thought I was clear with my instructions," Adrian bit out, his gaze making Mr. Turner shiver.

"Boss, it's a call from the housekeeper at the mansion," Turner stuttered, his hands shaking as he held out the phone.

Adrian sighed, returned to the call to conclude the meeting, and collected the phone from him.

"Speak," he commanded coldly.

"Master Adrian, I called to inform you of your mother's sudden illness," the housekeeper reported as Adrian massaged his temples.

"She requests you come back home to see her."

"Okay, Giuseppe, I will make my way there soon," he finished, handing the phone back to Turner.

Going home seemed troublesome at that moment; Adrian still had pressing issues to resolve. Given the turn of events, however, he would attend to his mother first before continuing with business.

"Inform the airport to prepare for a flight to Italy by the end of the week," Adrian instructed. Turner nodded and immediately called the airport authorities.

At the mention of Turner's name, they immediately knew it was Mr. Cagliari and began making arrangements.

Turner also informed Mr. Cagliari's private security team in Italy, and they set off to prepare. Adrian briefly thought of Ashleigh, a fleeting image immediately pushed aside by the urgent matters of his company.

*****************

"We have arrived in Italy and are preparing to land. Please fasten your seat belts and stow your tray tables... thank you," the pilot's announcement rang through the speaker.

Adrian lifted his eye mask to peer through the window. Soon, they landed. A line of exquisite cars pulled up opposite the runway, and the security personnel emerged from each vehicle in twos, a total of six private guards.

They moved to where the plane had landed and stood by as the door opened and the stairs descended. Turner was first to alight, carrying Mr. Cagliari's work devices, which were collected by one of the security personnel. Adrian Cagliari stepped down next, dressed in a silk shirt and shorts.

On seeing him, they bowed accordingly, and he waved his hand dismissively. He turned to his secretary, who handed him his phone as they began walking. Once he entered the car, their journey to Sardinia began, taking an hour.

Turner looked at his boss, who sat opposite him in admiration. Prior to the overnight trip, Adrian had spent the entire day in the office sorting out contracts and could only spare a few hours before leaving. Turner admired his strong work ethic, a trait that defined his strictly professional persona and his firm management of staff.

Mr. Cagliari still had work to resolve in Italy, even with his mother and extended family to see.

The cars, following closely, weaved through the city to a private estate. Upon seeing Mr. Cagliari, the gates opened, and the drivers proceeded into the estate. At the Cagliari mansion, the extended family stood outside waiting for him, some eager, others less so. The gate opened further for the cars, and a BMW pulled up to where they stood. Adrian stepped out to see them; the eldest among them approached him.

"Adrian, we're glad to have you back home," his uncle spoke on behalf of the others, and Adrian nodded curtly.

The man was Adrian's paternal uncle Antonio. Although far older than Adrian, he still paid due respect to him as the head of the Cagliari family. He was accompanied by his wife and two children, as well as Adrian's Aunt Emilie and her family. They greeted him and inquired about his well-being as they ushered him inside.

"How is Mother's health?" Adrian asked Uncle Antonio as they made their way to her room.

The mansion was an elegant two-story building spanning 5,000 square feet. It boasted an in-built horse stable and racing track and was beautifully decorated with flowers, a massive garden, and a butterfly conservatory.

"She's been recuperating through the week, although she keeps insisting on seeing you," Antonio explained as they ascended to the first floor.

Each floor had eleven rooms with its own facilities. Adrian's mother stayed at the end of the hall. As they walked by, maids and butlers greeted them. Giuseppe, the head housekeeper, greeted Adrian calmly at the end of the hall.

"Madame has asked to see Master Adrian alone," he said, facing the other family members, who immediately left.

Giuseppe opened the door to reveal Adrian's mother sitting up in bed as nurses attended to her. She raised her eyes to see who had entered, and her features softened into happiness upon seeing her son. She beckoned him closer, which he did, hugging her tightly and kissing her on each cheek.

"So, I have to fall ill for you to come and see me?" she sulked, trying to evoke his emotions.

"I saw you three months ago... don't be dramatic," he replied firmly, making his mother pout more.

"Humph. Same difference, Adrian," she said, tapping his head lightly. Adrian looked at the nurse and asked about her progress.

"Madame Eleanor Cagliari has been under emotional stress, which caused her blood pressure to rise significantly in the past week. We have administered appropriate medications and encouraged her to pursue calm hobbies as she grows older," the nurse explained, to which Adrian nodded in agreement. He thanked them all and turned back to his mother.

"Shall we have lunch now, Mother?" he asked, and she nodded. He stood by the bed, allowing the nurses to assist his mother into the wheelchair.

He looked at his mother closely as she was being moved. She looked rather gaunt; most of her body fat had diminished, and her wrinkles were more prominent than before. He wondered what was troubling her so deeply.

The nurse informed him that they were ready to move, and they pushed her to the dining hall. They took the hallway beside her room, which had a built-in wheelchair ramp for easier movement. He had renovated the building to accommodate this design when his mother had developed mobility issues, ensuring her comfort and safety.

He had also entrusted Housekeeper Giuseppe to find a skilled professional caregiver for his mother, as she needed closer monitoring. They reached the dining hall on the first floor and entered. The family members stood upon seeing him enter. The nurses helped Eleanor get settled at the table, and they all began to eat.

Adrian sat at the head of the table, with his mother and uncle on either side. Beside his uncle sat his wife, Francesca Cagliari, and their two sons, Fernando and Pierre. Adrian's aunt Emilie sat beside his mother with her two daughters, Clarissa and Isabella Bernadette.

The table overflowed with decadent Italian dishes, desserts, and wine from the best vineyards in the city. Maids busily attended to the family members, serving dishes, refilling glasses, and running minor errands.

Adrian ate quietly, checking on his mother from time to time to ensure she was satisfied with the food and had everything she needed. His mother reassured him that she was fine, smiling as she looked at her son and her family together, despite the underlying tensions. It had been her husband's dream to keep the family united despite the difficulties, and she was proud to have raised her son to uphold those traditions.

The calm was soon interrupted by one of the butlers, who whispered to Housekeeper Giuseppe upon entering the room. Giuseppe then turned to the family and announced that guests had arrived for lunch. With Adrian's nod of approval, they walked in, to the delight of his mother and his aunt.

"The LaRosa family has come to give their personal regards to Master Adrian," Housekeeper Giuseppe stated as Mr. Simeon LaRosa, his wife, and their daughter walked in.

Adrian stood to greet Mr. Simeon LaRosa and his wife warmly, while their daughter went to greet his mother. Caelia LaRosa was striking; she had radiant skin, a set of round, expressive eyes, cherry lipstick accentuating her lips, and a light blush highlighting her rosy cheeks.

Her dress accentuated her elegant figure, and a delicate floral perfume lingered in her wake.

She was Simeon's only daughter, the pride and joy of his life, and had achieved much at just 21. Despite her accomplishments, she remained good-natured and humble.

Aunt Emilie couldn't help but smirk inwardly at the sight of Caelia, who was eager to show Adrian her close bond with his mother. Yet, beneath her seemingly perfect exterior and achievements, Caelia harbored her own aspirations.

"Caelia, my dear, how have you been?" Eleanor motioned for her to come closer, and Caelia knelt to face her.

"I'm fine, zia Eleanor. I only left for a short vacation, and I hear you're sick?" Caelia's calm, honeyed voice held a note of gentle reproach as she reached to cup Eleanor's face, her round eyes roaming over her with concern.

"Dear, don't frown now! You'll only spoil your beautiful face," Eleanor chided, using her hand to smooth Caelia's lips into a smile. Caelia laughed and stood up to see

Adrian at her side. She did a quick scan of his features and smiled afterwards.

"Adrian, it's been a while," she greeted him, and he nodded silently.

Internally, Caelia sighed. He was as distant as ever. Adrian gestured for the LaRosa family to join the meal, and they accepted cheerfully, taking seats beside Adrian's uncle.

Caelia chose to sit beside Clarissa and Isabella, as they were the same age and good friends. Lunch passed peacefully, and afterwards, they all retired to the common room for a more relaxed discussion.

Eleanor chose to sit with Caelia, her mother, and Emilie, while Adrian sat with his uncle and Mr. Simeon.

Clarissa, Isabella, Fernando, and Pierre went to the gazebo to talk.

Adrian discussed the upcoming collaboration between their families, emphasizing its importance as he might not have this opportunity to discuss it again soon. After they reached a reasonable conclusion, he called for Turner.

Caelia, however, kept stealing glances at him, waiting for the conversation to end. Once it was over, she looked to her mother, who offered a quiet nod of encouragement, and then she spoke up.

"Adrian," Caelia began, her voice soft but clear, "there's something I've been wanting to discuss with you privately."

"Adrian, if it's okay, I'd like to have dinner with you sometime next week. Your mom told me you're around for the week," Caelia proposed, her eyes holding a hint of eagerness.

"Yes, Adrian, I feel you two should have lunch and catch up. It's been a while," Caelia's mother added, glancing at Eleanor for support.

Adrian glanced at his mother, who offered a subtle nod of agreement. His gaze then shifted to his uncle, who maintained a neutral expression.

"I apologize, Caelia, but I won't be able to join you for lunch. I have a lot of matters to handle this week," Adrian said curtly.

Caelia's face flushed with embarrassment, and she bit her lip.

"I'll ask my secretary to arrange an appointment for you. Just let him know where you’d like to go," he added, signaling his secretary forward.

Caelia looked as if she wanted to refuse, but Adrian gave no room for discussion. He stood up, effectively ending the conversation. Eleanor placed a comforting hand on Caelia's back, offering an encouraging squeeze. Caelia offered a small, obedient nod.

"I'll discuss it with him later," Eleanor murmured to Caelia, then suggested she go and join the others.

Caelia stood, offered polite greetings to the remaining family members, and then left to find Clarissa and Isabella.

********************

Late that night, on the second floor of the Cagliari mansion, Adrian was in his study, engrossed in work. News of his arrival had spread, and he was flooded with proposals, contract reviews, and diplomatic matters. He sat through a lengthy executive meeting with the heads of Cagliari Industries from various sectors, accompanied by his secretary, Mr. Turner. The meeting lasted until 11 p.m. before finally concluding.

Dismissing Turner for the night, Adrian made his way to his room, only to find his mother waiting outside in her wheelchair, accompanied by a maid.

"I want to have a word with you," Eleanor said.

Without hesitation, Adrian opened the door and ushered her inside. His room was spacious, adorned in a minimalist style; partly because he was rarely home and partly because he disliked unnecessary clutter. Eleanor gestured for him to sit on the bed, but he remained standing, implying he wished to keep the conversation brief.

"Since you're in such a hurry, I'll get to the point," she said. "I want you to get closer to Caelia. It wasn’t very kind of you to turn down her invitation."

Adrian stiffened, immediately recognizing where this was headed.

"Mother—"

"No," Eleanor interrupted. "I've let you do as you please long enough, but I won’t sit idly by any longer. The LaRosa family was one of your father’s greatest allies, and Caelia has been your childhood friend. This arrangement was always meant to happen. You need to stop avoiding her and start building a relationship."

She regretted not finalizing the engagement sooner, by now, there could have been a child running around the mansion. Caelia adored Adrian, and to Eleanor, that should have been enough.

"Mother, I don’t believe Caelia would be a suitable match for me. I refuse to be bound by my father’s promises. You should get some rest now," he said firmly, signaling for the maid to escort Eleanor back to her room.

As they left, Turner rushed into the room.

"What is it?" Adrian grunted, slipping into his night robe.

"Boss, I have new information about Ashleigh Hartman."

Adrian’s eyes flickered with interest as he listened. A slow, amused chuckle escaped his lips.

"Is that so?" he mused, gazing out the window in thought.

After a moment, he made a decision. "Contact my private lawyer."

******************

Two weeks had passed peacefully for Ashleigh at Tixton. In a surprising turn of events, Mrs. Smith had not only been pardoned by the CEO but had also been promoted. Now in a higher position, she ensured Ashleigh was responsible for training new recruits. a perk of having a well-placed family member.

Despite the unexpected promotion, Ashleigh remained composed. She diligently guided the new staff and fulfilled her responsibilities, earning the respect of both her colleagues and new hires. She even made a few friends, including James and Fiona, who had become her lunch companions.

James was tall and lanky, giving the impression of someone unfit for manual labor, but he was much stronger than he looked. Standing at 5'8", he had a tan complexion and a boyish charm. Fiona, on the other hand, was petite—shorter than Ashleigh, earning her the nickname "Fun-sized." Both were two years older than Ashleigh and treated her like their younger sibling, despite her teasing them about being a couple.

As they sat in the cafeteria, enjoying their meals and chatting, Fiona suddenly nudged Ashleigh—hard.

"What was that for?" Ashleigh complained, rubbing her shoulder.

"Uhmmm… isn't that Mr. Cagliari's secretary walking toward us?" Fiona whispered urgently, eyes wide.

Sure enough, Mr. Turner was approaching their table with purpose. Ashleigh straightened in her seat and offered a polite smile as he stopped in front of them.

"Sorry to interrupt your lunch, Miss Hartman, but the CEO would like to see you," Turner said briskly.

Ashleigh hesitated, feeling a sudden wave of unease. "Okay… I guess."

As she rose to follow him, she turned back to see Fiona and James mouthing exaggerated questions: "What’s going on?"

"Are you in trouble?" She shook her head, signaling that she had no clue.

Turner led her toward the first-floor elevator. Just before stepping inside, she stopped him.

"Aren’t you going to tell me what this is about?"

Turner gave a slight smile. "Apologies for the confusion, Miss Hartman, but it’s the CEO who wants to speak with you."

Her heart skipped a beat.

She wondered why Mr. Cagliari wanted to see her. Mr. Turner pressed the button to open the private elevator.

"Are you sure? I can take the stairs," she suggested, but he stood firm.

As they made their way up, her mind ran in circles, trying to understand why the CEO wanted to see her.

She hadn't received any complaints so far and saw no reason for him to want to see her. She would only know once she arrived. Once again, she found herself on the fourth floor of the company, the executive floor. This was the floor housing the offices of the president and the vice president, although she had never met the latter. They walked past the conference room to the end of the hall where a gold plaque on a door read: CEO.

"You may go in," Turner gestured, opening the door for her. She stepped inside. The space was vast, furnished exquisitely with Italian pieces. She hadn't imagined a room could be so expansive.

Her eyes roamed the opulent space before landing on a seating arrangement near a large window. Her aunt sat on one of the plush couches, Mr. Cagliari on another, and a third man she didn't recognize was seated beside him.

The couches were arranged around a sleek glass center table, upon which sat an envelope and mugs of coffee.

"Aunt," she called out, her voice echoing slightly in the large room. Mrs. Smith looked up, a warm smile gracing her lips. Mr. Cagliari also raised his eyes, as did the unknown man.

"My dear, why are you standing so far?" her aunt beckoned. But Ashleigh remained rooted to the spot, peering at Mr. Cagliari with unconcealed suspicion.

"What's this about, Aunt?" she questioned firmly, her gaze meeting Mr. Cagliari's head-on. A hint of amusement flickered in his eyes.

He looked impeccably dressed today in a beige suit and matching shoes. His dark hair was slicked back, revealing a strong jawline accentuated by a neatly trimmed stubble that lent him a mature air. He sat with one leg crossed over the other, reaching for his cup of coffee on the table and sipping it nonchalantly.

"Won't you come closer? Or must we shout?"

Hesitantly, Ashleigh moved to sit beside her aunt, keeping a wary distance from Mr. Cagliari.

Adrian took a long, assessing look at her. Her eyes were wide with apprehension as she waited for him to speak, her hands clutching her aunt's clothes tightly.

"Ashleigh, your aunt and I have been discussing things before you arrived," he remarked. She turned to her aunt, who avoided her gaze.

"I have a proposition for you—a marriage proposal," he stated, the words hanging in the air, and Ashleigh couldn't mask her shock.

"I'm sorry. Could you repeat that?" she asked, staring at him in disbelief.

"I am asking you to marry me," he repeated firmly, and a startled laugh escaped her lips.

This man seemed completely out of touch with reality. Who talks about marriage so casually?

"I'm sorry, it's just... it sounds like a joke. Is it? Can you tell a better one?" Her smile quickly faded, replaced by a serious expression. Her aunt started to intervene, but Ashleigh cut her off. "No, Aunt, I need to speak to him." She held Adrian's gaze.

"Well, Mr. Cagliari," she began, a hint of sarcasm lacing her tone, "why exactly do you want to marry me?" A wry smile touched his lips.

"Miss Hartman, I have a pressing need, and I believe you suit those requirements," he replied, his eyes sweeping over her in a considering manner.

Ashleigh was bewildered by the absurdity of the situation, even more so that her aunt had apparently heard this nonsense and hadn't immediately dismissed it.

"Aunt," she inquired, her voice incredulous, "did you hear what he just said?" Mrs. Smith let out a low sigh.

"Well, Ashleigh dear, I've heard everything, and I want you to consider it as well," she responded, her voice softening as Ashleigh's disbelief deepened.

"Look, Ashleigh, it's not a bad offer," her aunt continued, trying to sound encouraging.

"He has promised to care for you and compensate you when the contract is over." Ashleigh shifted away from her aunt, a sense of betrayal washing over her.

"Miss Hartman, I am Mr. Cagliari's lawyer and legal representative. I have the marriage contract here," the man who had been observing silently finally spoke.

He reached into the envelope and placed a document in front of her. Ashleigh sat silently, her eyes fixed on the bold letters at the top: MARRIAGE AGREEMENT CONTRACT.

"Ashleigh, I know this is a lot to take in," Adrian added, his gaze steady on her still figure.

"I want you to think carefully. During the time you are my legal wife, you and your aunt will be fully taken care of. Consider it a favor." Ashleigh finally raised her head to look directly at him, a spark of anger igniting in her eyes.

"Did I ask you for a favor, Mr. Cagliari? There are a thousand women who would jump at this opportunity, but I am not one of them. And don't you ever approach me with such a proposition again," she said through clenched teeth, turning abruptly to leave.

She had reached the door when Adrian's voice stopped her.

"Miss Hartman... or is that your real name?"

She turned sharply, a fierce glint in her eyes. "What?"

"You think you're just an orphan? Then your aunt hasn't been entirely truthful with you, has she?" Adrian taunted, a knowing look in his eyes.

"What are you talking about?" she asked in a hushed tone, her heart pounding. He stood up to face her, his presence suddenly looming.

This was the question that had always been a thorn in her side. She longed to know about her birth parents but lacked the resources to find out, a desire buried at the back of her mind, something she hoped to pursue after saving enough money.

She had lived her life day by day at the orphanage until her aunt appeared one day. Until now, whenever she had asked her aunt or tried to broach the subject, her aunt had fiercely shut it down, insisting her parents were dead and there was no reason to discuss it.

Her aunt had told her no stories of her parents, their hometown, or their families, explaining that it was for the best.

Looking at Adrian Cagliari, a chilling certainty washed over her: there was far more to her story than she knew.