Chains of Contracted Marriage

CHAPTER THREE

ETHAN

I stepped out of the car and onto the winding driveway of our family estate. The familiar sight of the sprawling mansion and manicured lawns brought a sense of comfort and routine. I grew up here, learning the ins and outs of the family business and preparing to take over one day.

I couldn't help but feel a sense of indifference and nostalgia. Our family estate was a sprawling mansion that had been in our family for generations. The driveway was lined with tall trees and meticulously manicured lawns, which seemed to stretch on forever.

As I walked towards the entrance, I noticed the intricate stone carvings that adorned the facade of the mansion. The stones were a warm, honey-colored brown, and they seemed to glow in the fading light of day. The front door was a massive, solid wood affair, with a heavy iron knocker in the shape of a lion's head.

As I pushed open the door and stepped inside, I was enveloped in the warm, familiar scent of old books and leather. The foyer was a grand, high-ceilinged space, with a sweeping staircase that curved up to the left. The walls were adorned with portraits of family members, their stern faces seeming to watch me as I moved.

To the right of the foyer was the study, where my father and grandmother were waiting for me. The study was a dimly lit room, with walls lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. The air was thick with the scent of old books and cigar smoke.

As I made my way through the house, I caught glimpses of the other rooms: the formal dining room, with its long, polished table and sparkling crystal chandelier; the library, with its cozy, leather-bound armchairs and towering shelves of books; and the sunroom, with its bright, sunny windows and comfortable, cushioned furniture.

Every room in the house seemed to have its own unique character, its own special charm. And yet, despite the grandeur and opulence of the estate, I hated this place. It was a place where I grew up, where I didn't know what real joy was in this place until I left. And now its presence is bringing back a lot of memories, especially now there is talk of me potentially carrying on the traditions and legacy of the Calloways.

As I made my way to the main room where I was sure my grandmother and father were, the door leading to the kitchen swung open and our butler, Jenkins, greeted me with a nod. "Good evening, Master Ethan. Your father and grandmother are waiting for you during your studies."

I nodded and followed Jenkins into the house. The study was a dimly lit room filled with the smell of old books and leather. My father, Richard Calloway, sat behind the massive wooden desk, his eyes fixed on me as I entered. My grandmother, Agnes Calloway, sat in one of the armchairs, her eyes narrowed slightly as she watched me.

"Ah, Ethan," my father said, his voice deep and commanding. "Good to see you." I trust your meeting with Lillian went well?"

I took a seat in the other armchair, trying to gauge the tone of the conversation. "It was...enlightening," I said, choosing my words carefully.

My grandmother raised an eyebrow. "Enlightening?" she repeated. "I'm not sure if that's the word I would have chosen." "Tell me, Ethan, what did you think of Lillian?"

I hesitated, unsure of how to respond. I had been expecting a straightforward business discussion, but it seemed that my family was also pretty interested in the personal aspects of the arrangement. I couldn't understand why.

"She's...different," I said finally, trying to be diplomatic.

My father leaned forward, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Different?" he repeated. "What do you mean by that, Ethan?"

I cleared my throat, trying to compose myself before speaking. But before I could even get a word out, my grandmother spoke up.

"I think it's time we let Lillian meet with the rest of the family, don't you, Richard?" she said, turning to my father.

I felt a surge of unease at the suggestion. I wasn't ready for Lillian to meet the rest of the family. I hadn't even had a chance to process my own thoughts about her yet.

"I don't know, Grandmother," I said, trying to object. "I think we should wait a bit longer."

But my father cut me off before I could even finish my sentence. "Nonsense, Ethan," he said firmly. "It's time for Lillian to meet the family. "We couldn't put it off any longer. "We need to get her paired with the rest of the family, plan the engagement and prepare for the marriage immediately. "We do not have time to waste anymore, a lot of things are at stake and lots of things have been put in motion."

I tried to protest." But we still have time."

"Time is precisely what we do not have. "We need to act fast if we plan to get what we want soon." She cut in.

I felt a surge of frustration at being shut down, but I knew better than to argue with my father. Instead, I nodded reluctantly and stood up.

"I'll take care of it," I said, trying to sound more enthusiastic than I felt.

As I left the room, I pulled out my phone and sent Lillian a text. "Hey, I'll pick you up tomorrow at 7 for a family dinner event. Looking forward to seeing you again."

I hesitated for a moment before sending the text. I wasn't really looking forward to seeing her again, but I knew it was necessary. And who knows, maybe tomorrow will be a better day.