||THE WRONG GROOM|

Hillary’s POV “I am not getting married to someone I don’t even know!” I scream, not from fear, but from the anger burning inside me. My father sits calmly on the couch, his face as expressionless as ever. “Hillary,” he begins evenly, “I know you don’t want this marriage, but you have to.” “It’s not a must!” I snap, folding my arms tightly across my chest. “And besides, it’s not like your company is failing. You’re already making enough money. If you wait, it’ll grow on its own.” He shakes his head. “But I want it now. And the only solution I can think of is for one of my beautiful, well-behaved, skillful daughters to—” “Oh, Dad, please don’t waste words,” I cut in. “I don’t agree to this marriage. Why would you choose the person I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life with?” “But you’ll benefit too,” he says, as if trying to sell me a dream. He stands and moves behind me, placing his hands firmly on my shoulders. I stiffen. “Just imagine,” he continues, “you’ll marry into the most popular family. Our name will be celebrated. And my company—our company—will finally be where it belongs. Isn’t it great?” I turn sharply, forcing him to let go. “It is,” I admit, my voice softening. “I’ve always wanted your company to grow. But forcing me into marriage with a stranger? That’s crossing the line.” I’ve spent my entire life trying to make my parents happy. Every request, every demand — I obeyed, even when it cost me my own happiness. But this? Accepting a man I don’t even know as my husband? That’s too much. “Hillary, please,” he says, and for the first time, there’s pity in his voice. “If it’s about fame, ask Hayley,” I scoff. “She loves attention.” “I can’t allow my eldest daughter to remain single while her younger sisters get married,” he says firmly. And the sad part is—I believe him. I still remember when Tom proposed to me. I had never been happier. I rushed home, flashing the ring like a treasure. But when he came to formally ask for my hand, my parents interrogated him until he failed. Their reason? My elder sister, Helene, wasn’t married yet. Now Helene has two children. Tom has a wife. And me? At least I’m a happy aunt. “Dad,” I say quietly, uncrossing my arms, “I can’t.” I turn to leave. A loud thud stops me. “Dad!” He’s on the floor, clutching his chest, his face twisted in pain. I rush to him, my hands trembling. “My heart… Hillary,” he groans. “Oh no, Dad. I’m so sorry.” “You know I don’t have much time left,” he whispers. “I’m getting old, Ary.” The nickname hits harder than the argument. “Please,” he continues weakly. “I know his family. They’re good people. You’ll be fine.” I squeeze my eyes shut. I’ve seen this before. The fake collapse. The guilt. The surrender. “Fine,” I whisper. “But only because I want your company to grow.” Relief floods his face as he pulls me into a hug. “Oh, Hillary. What would I do without you?” Plenty, I think bitterly. “I love you,” he says. “I love you too dad.” Moments later, he’s standing, adjusting his suit and checking his watch. “I should head to work. Have a blessed day.” And just like that, he leaves. I stay on the floor, thinking. What have I agreed to? Who is this man? A model? A billionaire? Or worse—an old man? If he is, I swear I’ll disappear. “Maybe he’s a good person,” I mutter, unconvinced. “Let me tell Jenna.” After a fifteen-minute drive, I reach the small cafeteria where Jenna works. She’s been working full-time during the university break, saving every dollar. As soon as I walk in, I hear raised voices. “She’s refusing to give me my change!” a man snaps. I rush over. “What’s the problem, sir?” “I bought coffee, two whole wheat breads, and one white bread. She owes me five!” “All of that costs ten,” I say calmly. “She doesn’t owe you anything.” I smile politely. “Sorry for the misunderstanding.” The man mutters and leaves. I turn to Jenna. “You should be nice with your clients.” “It’s not my fault he’s dumb,” she says proudly. I laugh. That’s Jenna. “So,” I say quietly, “I have news.” Her eyes sparkle. “Spill.” “I’m getting married.” “What? Since when do you have a boyfriend?” “I don’t. It’s arranged.” She groans. “You shouldn’t have agreed.” “I know. But my dad—” “I know. King of emotional blackmail.” I nod. “I’m just hoping he’s a good person.” She hands me coffee. “If anyone hurts you, I’ll punch them.” I smile. With Jenna by my side, maybe I’ll survive this.