Betrothed to the Billionaire

Chapter 7

Lisa’s POV

“Are the fittings done?”

Just that.

My fingers tightened around the phone.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

A pause.

Then…

“They should be.”

Something in his tone made my chest tighten.

Not satisfaction.

Expectation.

Like failure wasn’t an option.

“You planned everything without seeing me,” I said quietly.

Another pause.

Longer this time.

Then…

“I don’t need to see you to decide.”

The words landed like a slap.

My throat tightened.

“And what exactly did you decide?”

Silence.

Then…

“That you will fit.”

Something in me snapped.

“I’m not something you picked off a shelf.”

His voice didn’t change.

“Then don’t behave like it.”

My breath caught.

Anger burned through me.

“Do you even know who I am?”

“Yes.”

The answer came instantly.

My heart skipped.

“What does that mean?”

Silence.

Then…

“You’ll understand soon.”

The line went dead.

I stood there, staring at my phone.

My heart beating too fast now.

Too loud.

Because for the first time since this started…

I didn’t just feel trapped.

I felt chosen.

And not in a way that felt safe.

The line stayed dead.

But his presence didn’t.

It lingered.

In the silence.

In the room.

In my chest.

I slowly lowered the phone, my fingers still tense around it, like letting go would make everything more real.

“You’ll understand soon”.

The words replayed again.

And again.

Until they didn’t sound like words anymore… and started feeling like a warning.

I didn’t sleep, I tossed.

By morning, the house had transformed.

Not gradually.

Not subtly.

Overnight.

When I stepped out of my room, I stopped.

Actually stopped.

Because for a second…

I didn’t recognize where I was, the home I grew up in had suddenly changed.

The hallway had been cleared.

Redesigned.

For weeks, tables lined with finest fabric samples I had ever seen, different sketches, jewelry cases.

Men in suits flipping through portfolios, women in sleek, expensive outfits speaking in low, controlled tones.

Assistants moving like shadows… efficient, silent, precise.

It didn’t feel like preparation.

It felt like execution.

“Miss Daves,” I turned.

A man stepped forward, well-dressed, composed and calculated.

Not one of the designers from before.

Different.

Sharper.

“I’m here on behalf of Mr. George.”

Of course he was… everyone else was.

“He’s updated the schedule,” the man continued, handing me a tablet.

I didn’t take it immediately.

“Updated?”

“Yes, the previous arrangements have been… adjusted.”

Adjusted?

I took the tablet slowly.

My eyes scanned the screen.

And for the first time since this started… I felt it, this would have been a dream come true if I was marrying the man I truly loved because it was too perfect.

I was shocked, “this isn’t the venue we discussed,” I said quietly.

“It is now.”

I looked up sharply.

“What do you mean ‘it is now’?”

“Mr. George has selected a different location.”

Sure, he had.

“Where?”

The man hesitated.

Not out of uncertainty.

But like he already knew my reaction.

“The wedding will now be held at the Aurelia Estate.”

My breath caught.

No.

That wasn’t just a venue.

That place was…

“That’s not open to the public,” I said immediately. “It hasn’t been used in years.”

“Correct.”

“Then how…”

“It belongs to Mr. George.”

Silence.

Certainly, it did.

I let out a slow breath, looking back at the screen.

Images filled it.

Not basic plans.

Not simple layouts.

Blueprints.

Full architectural redesigns.

Detailed structures.

Custom installations.

The garden alone…

My chest tightened slightly.

Glass structures.

Crystal installations.

A walkway that stretched across water, reflecting light like it was designed to blind anyone who looked too long.

“This is a wedding?” I whispered.

“It is what Mr. George requested.”

Requested?

“This is too much.”

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

The man didn’t react.

“It meets his standards.”

Absolutely, it did.

I scrolled further.

Security placements.

Guests placement mapped out like a strategy.

Timing down to the second.

Even the lighting had been calculated.

Paths designed to control movement.

“This is insane,” I muttered.

“No,” the man said calmly.

“It is precise.”

That word again.

Precise.

Controlled.

Intentional.

“Why?” I asked suddenly, my voice sharper.

He paused.

“Why this much for a wedding that doesn’t even matter to him?”

Because it didn’t.

I knew it didn’t.

He didn’t know me.

He didn’t care.

This was a transaction.

So why…

The man looked at me.

For a second…

Something shifted in his expression.

Not sympathy, not pity but something else I couldn’t quite figure.

“Mr. George does nothing halfway.”

That wasn’t an answer.

But it was the only one I was going to get.

The fittings resumed immediately after.

This time, it wasn’t just about dresses.

It was about perfection.

“Lift your chin slightly.”

I did.

“Turn.”

I turned.

“Again.”

Everything felt mechanical.

Like I wasn’t a person anymore.

Just… a piece that could be moved in something already completed.

“This one, is for the ceremony,” the designer said, revealing another dress.

And for the first time fitting my dresses…

I actually felt something, the dress defined my personality.

It was breathtaking.

Not in a soft way.

Not in a delicate, fairy-tale way.

It was overwhelming.

Layers of silk and structured detailing that didn’t flow…they held.

Like armor.

Like something meant to protect.

Or contain.

“This was his selection,” she added quietly bringing me out of my thoughts.

Obviously it was, I stepped into it.

And immediately… I felt it.

The weight, not physical.

Not entirely.

But something else.

“Perfect,” someone whispered again.

Always perfect.

Always controlled.

“Do you like it?” the designer asked carefully.

I looked at myself, at the woman in the mirror.

Dressed in something that wasn’t chosen by her but meant for her.

Standing in a moment that didn’t belong to her.

“It doesn’t matter what I like.” I said.

No one responded.

Because we all knew it was true, but that wasn’t the worst part.

The worst part was…

I hadn’t seen him.

Not once.

“Another meeting has been scheduled,” one of the coordinators informed me later that afternoon.

I let out a quiet, humorless laugh.

“Let me guess,” I said. “He won’t show up.”

She hesitated.

That was enough answer.

“He had to travel unexpectedly,” she said carefully. “There was a situation with…”

“Of course there was.”

The first meeting was scheduled two days later after I agreed to the marriage, I prepared. Of course I did, not for him but myself

If he thought I would just fit into whatever he had planned… he was wrong, I would make sure of that.

I arrived early.

Sat in a private lounge arranged specifically for us, minimal staff, maximum privacy.

I waited.

Ten minutes.

Twenty.

Forty.

An hour.

“Miss Daves…” the coordinator approached carefully.

“Yes?”

“There’s been a slight delay. Mr. George’s flight…”

“…let me guess,” I cut in. “Cancelled?”

A pause.

“…Yes.”

I let out a short laugh.

A second meeting was scheduled three days later, a different location.

More secure, even more controlled.

This time, I didn’t sit.

I stood.

Arms crossed.

Watching the door and every time it opened…

My heart reacted before I could stop it.

But it was never him.

“Miss Daves,” the same voice again.

I didn’t turn this time.

“What is it now?”

“Mr. George has been called into an emergency board meeting.”

I closed my eyes briefly.

“Of course he has.” I said sarcastically.

The third meeting was the next day, I didn’t dress up. I didn’t care, I didn’t even try. I sat there with my phone waiting for the meeting to start and be done with.

The front door opened…. “let me guess,” I said before anyone could speak. “He’s unavailable.”

Silence.

Then…

“…Yes.”

I laughed… a real one this time.

Because at that point…

I turned away, crossing my arms.

“This is getting ridiculous.”

“He sends his apologies,” she added quickly.

I laughed again.

This time, sharper.

“Does he?”

Another meeting.

Another absence.

It became a pattern.

I would prepare, wait, sit in rooms designed for introductions that never happened.

And every single time…

Nothing.

By the fourth attempt…

I stopped asking, I genuinely stopped caring too. It’s just a transaction, his presence shouldn’t matter to me.

“Does he even exist?” I muttered one evening, pacing in my room.

Because at this point…

It felt like I was marrying a ghost.

“Miss Daves…” the coordinator started cautiously during one of the fittings, “Mr. George assures you that the final rehearsal will be attended.”

I stopped, turned slowly.

“The final rehearsal?”

“Yes.”

A pause.

“He said that will be the appropriate time.”

Appropriate?

I swallowed.

Something about that… Didn’t sit right.

But I nodded anyway.

“Fine.”

What choice did I have?

Days blurred into each other.

Preparations, fittings, schedules, endless adjustments.

And silence.

No messages.

No calls.

No curiosity about my sudden silence from Daniela, from Ken.

Nothing.

At first, I told myself it didn’t matter.

I didn’t need them.

I didn’t want them.

But the silence stretched.

Day after day.

And slowly…

Something settled in finally.

Not pain, not anger but clarity.

“They’re not going to reach out,” I said quietly to myself one night, staring at my phone.

The screen remained blank.

Still.

Empty.

Without a doubt they weren’t.

Why would they?

They had already taken what they wanted.

My time.

My trust.

My money.

And when there was nothing left to take…

They left.

Just like they planned.

I exhaled slowly, locking my phone.

That was all the confirmation I needed.

Meanwhile, the house became louder because my siblings were back.

“Lisa!”

The voice came before I even saw her.

I turned just in time to catch her as she rushed into me, wrapping her arms around me tightly.

“Lila…” I breathed out, startled. She pulled back quickly, holding my face in her hands.

“What is going on?” she demanded. “Marriage? Suddenly? To who? Why didn’t you tell us anything?”

Behind her… Liam stood, arms crossed, his expression darker, more controlled.

But his eyes… sharp, searching.

“You look… different,” Lila said slowly. I forced a smile.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” Liam said immediately.

Of course he would notice.

He always did.

“What’s his name?” Lila asked quickly. “Ethan, right? Ethan George? Do you even know him?”

“No.”

Silence.

“What do you mean no?” she frowned.

“I mean exactly that.”

Liam let out a low breath, running a hand through his hair.

“This doesn’t make sense.”

“It doesn’t have to,” I said quietly.

“Lisa…” Lila started.

“I’m getting married,” I cut in. “That’s all that matters.”

“That is not all that matters!” she snapped.

“Lila,” Liam warned.

“No!” she insisted. “She’s acting like this is normal. It’s not normal.”

I looked at them, for a second…

I almost broke down, almost.

But then… I remembered.

The laughter.

The voices.

The betrayal.

And something inside me hardened again.

“It’s happening,” I said firmly. “So you might as well get used to it.”

Silence fell, heavy, and uncomfortable .

Liam studied me for a long moment.

Then finally…

“…Alright.”

Lila turned to him sharply. “That’s it?”

“That’s not it,” he said calmly. “But pushing her won’t change anything.”

He looked back at me.

And this time…

There was something else in his eyes.

Understanding.

“You’ve already decided,” he said quietly. I didn’t respond.

Because he was right, I had.

I had to visit the wedding venue that afternoon, I didn’t expect it to be… real.

Not like that.

The moment the gates opened, I understood something immediately.

This wasn’t just wealth… this was power.

The Aurelia Estate stretched endlessly, private, untouched.

Designed like something that wasn’t meant to be seen by the world.

Water features that looked natural… but weren’t.

Gardens arranged with unnatural precision.

Glass structures rising where there should have been nothing.

“This is where you’ll walk,” someone said beside me.

I barely heard them.

My eyes were fixed ahead.

The aisle… it wasn’t an aisle, it was a path over water.

Very clear, reflective and endless.

“Guests will be seated on either side,” the coordinator explained. “The lighting will be adjusted to reflect directly off the surface…” I stopped walking.

“…He planned all this?”

“Yes.”

Without me.

Without seeing me.

Without asking me.

A breeze passed, soft, cold.

And suddenly… I felt it again.

That feeling… like I wasn’t alone.

I turned slightly but carefully.

Still, nothing. Just staff, designers and security guards.

But my chest tightened anyway, because deep down… I knew he was here.

Not physically nor visibly but somehow… watching.

I wrapped my arms around myself slightly, “why does it feel like this isn’t just a wedding?”

The question slipped out quietly.

More to myself than anyone else…

“Because it isn’t.” I thought I heard.

I turned sharply, I frowned slightly. “Who are you?”

My gaze was held for a second.

Then…

A faint smile, not calm nor friendly

My breath caught.

Before I could respond… He turned and walked away, blended into the movement like he had never been there because he wasn’t.

“Wait…!”

I stepped forward…

But he was gone.

Just like that.

My heart started racing, was I hallucinating?

Too fast, too loud because suddenly… Everything felt wrong, not just controlled, not just planned but intentional.

Like I wasn’t stepping into a marriage, I was stepping into something that had been waiting for me.

And tomorrow… I would finally meet the man behind it all.

For the first time.