Chapter 3
1168 Words
Zylara’s POV
Before I could react, a deep, playful laugh echoed from behind her. “Gotcha!” A tall figure stepped out of the shadows, his grin wide and charming.
“Mark!” the girl exclaimed, relief flooding her features as she turned to him. “You scared me!”
“I couldn’t resist,” he chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “You were hiding so well, I just had to catch you.”
I blinked, the tension in the air dissipating. They were clearly in on some playful game, and the fear I’d felt moments before melted away.
As I stepped back to give them space, my gaze lingered on Mark. His tousled dark hair and piercing blue eyes were captivating, exuding confidence and strength. For a brief moment, his eyes met mine, and a spark of intensity passed between us before he turned back to the young lady.
“Come on, let’s get back inside and prepare for our date,we are running out of time.” Mark said, pulling her gently toward their room.
“Okay, but next time I’m hiding somewhere you can’t find me!” she teased, a spark of laughter in her eyes.
I smiled, enchanted by their playful banter, feeling a warmth wash over me as I watched the couple share a moment filled with joy and connection, the earlier tension completely forgotten.
As I turned my gaze, I caught sight of a large frame on the wall, drawing me in like a magnet.
The picture depicted a man with a confident smile, exuding charisma. My eyes drifted down to the corner of the frame, where a name was inscribed: "David Morgan." My heart skipped a beat as I recognized the face as the man who I have been speaking with in the bedroom since I got here.
“David!His name is David.” I whispered to myself.
Next to it, a smaller frame captured a younger man who happened to be the man I just saw a few moments ago, his features strikingly similar to David’s. The name "Mark Morgan" gleamed at the bottom corner.
Suddenly, memories flooded back—fragments of a conversation I had overheard between two men at the bar the previous day. Their hushed tones had spoken of power, wealth, and the influence of David's family.
It clicked into place: Mark must be David's son. The only thing that seemed unclear was the fact that Mark was said to be single.
My heart raced with the realization that I was in the presence of one of the most powerful families in the country.
Suddenly, I heard David's voice from behind me, sharp and commanding. “What are you doing? You need to start working, not daydreaming! Clean up and arrange everything—my son Mark is proposing to his girlfriend today!”
His words hit me like a splash of cold water, snapping me back to reality. The weight of his expectations loomed large, and I felt the tension in the air. “And don’t ruin anything, or you’ll regret it,” he warned, his tone leaving no room for argument.
“Right away, sir!” I replied, adrenaline kicking in as I rushed off into the kitchen. My mind raced as I scrambled to make sure everything was perfect, the stakes now impossibly high with the knowledge of who I was truly dealing with.
I hurried through the kitchen, arranging meals and decorating with fresh flowers, the rich aromas filling the air.
As Family members and relatives arrived, I overheard someone call out, “There’s Paul! Mark’s best friend!” He entered with an eager smile, ready to help.
“Where do you want me, David?” Paul asked, glancing around. “I want to make sure this is perfect for Mark.”
“Just keep an eye on the guests,” David replied.
“Mark is so nervous about this,” Paul chuckled. “He’s been planning it for weeks! You know how much he loves her.”
“Let’s hope he doesn’t trip over his own words,” one of the family members joked, prompting laughter from the others.
“Can I get anyone a drink?” I offered, stepping into the room.
“Just keep those appetizers coming!” Paul said with a wink.
“Right away!” I replied, rushing back to the kitchen, ready to make this day unforgettable.
Just as I returned with the drinks, the whole parlor was surprisingly empty. Confused, I wondered where everyone had gone when I heard a click from the door. Mark’s voice rang out: “Home sweet home”
I quickly realized everyone had gone to hide, preparing for the surprise. As Mark and his girlfriend stepped in, she caught sight of the drinks in my hands and exclaimed, “Who owns all of those?”
Just then, everyone emerged from their hiding spots, yelling, “Surprise!!!”
“Oh no, oh no, this is not happening,” the young lady said to herself, taking some steps backward.
Paul swiftly moved to Mark, handing him the ring. The young lady turned back just in time to see Mark kneeling on one knee, holding out the ring as he asked, “Clara, will you marry me?”
One of the family members chuckled with excitement, “I still can't believe our children are getting married!”
“Mark, pl…pl…please stand up and fix this mess you've made,” Clara said, her voice trembling and tears brimming in her eyes.
Mark's face fell, confusion morphing into disbelief as the words hung heavily in the air. The family’s earlier excitement turned to an awkward hush, each member exchanging puzzled glances.
“Clara, what do you mean?” he stammered, still kneeling, the ring forgotten in his trembling hand.
“Mark, I ca—” Clara started, but he interrupted her, urgency lacing his voice. “We’ve dated for five years! I thought you loved me!”
“I do, but—” Clara replied.
“Clara, whatever it is, we can find a solution. Please,” he pleaded, his desperation palpable.
“You won’t understand,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, tears spilling over.
“Make me understand, Clara. We’ve been through so much together. You can’t do this to me!” He reached for her, longing to bridge the chasm that had suddenly opened between them.
Almost instinctively, she replied, “I’m having a baby.”
Mark’s eyes widened, the excitement crashing through the confusion. “What! We are having a child?”
“It’s not your child, Mark,” Clara said, her voice sinking to a whisper, her disappointment washing over her like a wave.
Mark stood, the shock morphing into anger and hurt. “If it’s not mine, then whose is it?” He locked eyes with her, searching for answers.
“It’s Paul’s,” Clara confessed, glancing towards Paul, who stood frozen, his gaze fixed on the ground.
- Writer
