Chapter 6
1191 Words
Lisa’s POV
I thought the worst part was over.
I was wrong.
The house didn’t feel like mine anymore.
It hadn’t since last night.
Since I stood in my father’s study, broken and shaking, and said the words that sealed my future.
“I’m going to marry him”
Now everything felt… different.
Not quieter.
Not calmer.
Just being…. watched.
I didn’t sleep.
Not even for a minute.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw them.
Ken.
Daniela.
Too close, too comfortable.
Too real.
And then…
Another face.
One I hadn’t even seen before.
Ethan George.
The man I had just agreed to marry.
A man I didn’t know.
A man who didn’t know me, I believe
A man who didn’t even need to meet me to decide my life.
“Miss Lisa?”
The knock came softly, but it still made me flinch.
I turned slowly.
“Yes?”
“Your father is asking for you, in his study.”
Of course.
Everything always ended there.
Or began there.
When I stepped in, I immediately felt it.
The tension.
Thicker than before.
Heavier.
My mother sat stiffly, her eyes swollen like she hadn’t slept either.
My father stood this time, not sitting behind his desk like he usually did.
And then…
Him.
Mr. Cole.
Again.
Always him.
Always the messenger.
Always the man who walked in with calm eyes and left destruction behind.
“Lisa,” my father said, his voice strained.
I didn’t look at him.
I looked at Mr. Cole.
“You’ve spoken to him.”
It wasn’t a question.
Mr. Cole inclined his head slightly.
“Yes.”
My stomach tightened.
“Say it.”
“He agrees.”
Just two words.
Simple.
Clean.
Final.
Something inside me twisted.
That was it?
No hesitation?
No conditions discussed?
No questions about who I was?
Nothing?
“He didn’t even need time to think?” I asked, my voice low.
Mr. Cole’s lips barely moved. “Mr. George does not deliberate on decisions he has already made.”
Already made.
Before me.
Without me.
I let out a slow breath.
“Of course he doesn’t.”
“But there are terms,” Mr. Cole continued.
There it was.
I crossed my arms slightly. “Go on.”
“He is fully aware of your current financial position.”
The room tightened.
My father’s jaw hardened.
My mother looked down.
I didn’t move.
“He expects no financial contribution toward the wedding.”
I let out a quiet, humorless laugh.
“How kind.”
My father stepped forward immediately, “we can handle our daughter’s wedding…”
“No,” Mr. Cole said calmly.
Just that.
One word.
And it shut everything down.
“He insists on covering every expenses”, he continued. “The venue, the design, the guest management, security, attire, logistics, everything will be handled under his directive.”
Directive.
Not offer.
Not help.
Just… control.
“And what exactly do we do?” I asked.
Mr. Cole turned to me.
His gaze steady.
“You ensure your presence.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Unforgiving.
I stared at him.
“…That’s all?”
“Yes.”
No apology.
No hesitation.
Just… ownership.
My father exhaled sharply. “This is not how…”
“This is exactly how it is,” Mr. Cole replied, still calm, but firmer now. “Mr. George does not negotiate terms that involve his name.”
My father went quiet.
Because we all understood what that meant.
We had no leverage.
None.
“When is the wedding?” I asked.
“Three weeks.”
My mother gasped.
“Three…?” she whispered. “That’s not enough time…”
“It is sufficient,” Mr. Cole replied.
Of course it was.
For him.
“And will I meet him?” I asked.
A pause.
Brief.
Calculated.
“That depends entirely on Mr. George.”
Sure it did.
After he left, the silence in the room was unbearable.
My mother started crying again, softly this time.
My father looked… defeated.
And I just stood there.
Numb.
“He’s controlling everything,” my father muttered. “This isn’t right.”
“It doesn’t have to be right,” I said quietly.
They both looked at me.
“It just has to happen.”
The next few days didn’t feel real.
They felt staged.
Like I had been dropped into someone else’s life.
They started arriving the next morning.
Not just designers.
No.
That word wasn’t enough.
These were names people whispered.
Brands that didn’t advertise because they didn’t need to.
People who didn’t work for clients…
They selected them.
And yet…
They stood in our house.
Because of him… Ethan… Ethan George.
“Miss Daves,” one of them said, her tone polished but careful. “We’ve been given specific instructions.”
Of course they had.
“Let me guess,” I said flatly. “I don’t get much of a say.”
A slight pause.
“…Mr. George has a vision.”
I almost smiled.
Of course he did.
For a woman he had never seen.
They brought fabrics… exclusively selected fabrics.
Silks so fine they barely felt real.
Lace that looked like it had been woven by hand over months.
Jewelry pieces locked in velvet cases, guarded like they were priceless.
Maybe they were.
“Try this,” one of them said, holding up a dress.
White.
Sharp.
Structured.
Beautiful.
Yet… cold
I stepped into it.
They adjusted it around me, hands careful, precise.
“Perfect,” someone murmured.
“Of course it is,” I said quietly.
Because nothing about this was meant to fail.
“Do you like it?” another asked.
I met my reflection.
A bride.
Someone’s bride.
His bride.
“I don’t think that matters,” I replied.
Silence followed.
No one argued.
At night, it got worse.
That was when my thoughts got louder.
Who was he?
Why me?
Why this?
Why now?
And then…
Another thought.
Colder.
More unsettling.
Had he been watching me?
The idea crept in slowly.
Unwanted.
Uninvited.
But it stayed.
Because nothing about this felt random.
Not anymore.
One evening, I walked into the living room to find my parents speaking in hushed tones.
They stopped when they saw me.
“What?” I asked.
My father hesitated.
“Security.”
My brows furrowed. “What about it?”
“They’ve increased it,” he said. “Around the house.”
“His doing?” I asked.
My father nodded.
I let out a quiet breath, he just had to
Even without being here…
He was everywhere.
Later that night, my phone buzzed.
I froze.
For a second…
Just a second…
I thought it was Ken.
Or Daniela.
But when I picked it up…
Unknown number.
My heart didn’t race this time, it… dropped.
I answered slowly.
“…Hello?”
Silence.
Then… came the voice.
“This is Ethan George…”
…”Listen carefully because I won’t repeat myself”.
All of a sudden, my throat dried.
No words, he has never called personally before.
I wondered why he called now.
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