The Heir's Impossible Choice

The crystal vase slipped from Lily Bennett's hands. She lunged forward, but the polished marble floor made the ladder beneath her wobble violently. "No...!" Before the vase could shatter into a thousand glittering pieces, a hand caught it effortlessly, while another hand steadied the shaking ladder. Lily clung to the top step, her heart pounding against her ribs. "You should probably climb down before trying to save the vase," a calm voice suggested from below. She looked down to find a tall young man standing beside the ladder, holding the crystal vase as if it weighed nothing. He was dressed simply in a white shirt with sleeves rolled to his elbows and dark trousers—nothing about him suggested wealth. Lily carefully climbed down before letting out a relieved sigh. "I was supposed to help my mother today," she muttered, "not give her a heart attack." The young man smiled as he returned the vase to its high shelf. "I think the vase almost had one too." She looked at him. "Are you laughing at me?" "A little." "That's rude." "But honest." Despite herself, she laughed. "Fine. Maybe I deserved that." Before either of them could say another word, hurried footsteps echoed through the hallway. Clara Bennett appeared, carrying a basket filled with freshly cut roses. The moment she saw the vase safely back on its stand, her shoulders relaxed. "What happened?" "I almost dropped it," Lily admitted. "You almost..." Clara stopped herself, closing her eyes briefly. "I'll pretend I didn't hear that." Lily smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Mom." Clara turned to the young man. "Thank you for helping her." "It wasn't a problem." "It was to me." Her grateful smile was genuine. After twenty years in Ashford Mansion, Clara rarely let personal emotions interfere with her work, but Lily was her daughter—that was different. She looked toward the grandfather clock in the hallway. "I still have to arrange the flowers in the dining room. The library still needs dusting, Lily. Can you take care of it?" "Of course." Without another word, Clara hurried away. Lily picked up the feather duster leaning against the wall and glanced back at the stranger. "I guess I owe you." "You don't." "I do." He thought for a moment. "Then one day... buy me a cup of coffee." She blinked. "That's your price?" "It seems reasonable." She laughed. "I'll think about it." With that, she headed toward the library. *** The Ashford library was Lily's favorite room in the mansion. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves covered every wall, and sunlight streamed through the tall windows, bathing the room in warm afternoon light. Whenever she had come to help her mother during school holidays as a child, this had always been the first place she visited. She smiled to herself before beginning to dust the shelves. A few minutes later, voices drifted in from the hallway. "Lily?" She turned immediately. Richard Ashford walked into the library with the same gentle smile she had remembered since childhood. Beside him stood the young man who had just saved the crystal vase. Lily quickly lowered the feather duster. "Good afternoon, Mr. Ashford." Richard smiled warmly. "Lily." His eyes softened. "It's been far too long." She smiled politely. "It has." "I hear you're teaching art now." "Yes, sir." "Clara tells me your students adore you." Lily laughed softly. "They mostly adore making a mess." Richard chuckled. "That sounds about right." His attention shifted to the young man beside him. "Ethan, you probably don't remember Lily." The young man shook his head slightly. "I'm afraid I don't." Richard smiled. "You were both children the last time you saw each other. Ethan has spent the last several years overseas." That explained it. Lily offered a polite smile. "It's nice to meet you again... I suppose." Ethan smiled back. "I think we already met." Richard looked between them. "Oh?" "He rescued a crystal vase from me," Lily confessed, covering her face with one hand. "Do we really have to mention that again?" Ethan looked completely innocent. "I think it's worth mentioning." Richard laughed. "Then perhaps I should check whether all my antiques survived." "They did," Lily replied quickly. "Barely," Ethan added, earning a playful glare from Lily while Richard watched the exchange with quiet amusement. Before Richard could speak again, the butler appeared at the doorway. "Mr. Ashford, the board members have arrived." Richard nodded. "I'll be there." He looked at Ethan. "Stay here for a while. I won't be long." Turning back to Lily, he added, "It's good to see you again." "You too, sir." With that, he followed the butler out of the library. Silence settled over the room once more. Lily reached for her feather duster. "I can't believe he still remembered me." "He seems to care about the people around him," Ethan noted. "He always has. My mother says he's one of the kindest people she's ever worked for." Lily gently dusted another shelf before glancing at him. "So... you've really been overseas all these years?" "I have." "Must've been exciting." "It had its moments." "You don't sound very enthusiastic." He smiled faintly. "I guess home feels different." She nodded. "I've never left this city." "Do you want to?" "Maybe someday." She paused, smiling softly. "But I'm happy where I am." Ethan studied her for a moment. "You say that like you mean it." "I do." There was something refreshing about her answer. She didn't seem impressed by wealth, nor was she trying to impress him—she simply spoke her mind. "So..." she said, leaning against her duster, "since we technically met twice today, I think introductions are only fair." She held out her hand. "I'm Lily." He shook it. "Ethan." "It's nice meeting you." "The feeling's mutual." Just then, another maid hurried into the library. "Clara, Mr. Ashford needs the flower arrangements in the west hall." "I'll be right there," Clara called, stepping into the doorway. She nodded to the maid, but as she turned to leave, she suddenly remembered something and looked toward Ethan. "Oh... Young Master Ethan... Mr. Ashford has been asking for you." Lily's smile slowly disappeared. Young Master? Her eyes shifted from Clara to Ethan. Young Master. Ethan Ashford. Richard Ashford's only son. The heir to the Ashford empire. The man she'd laughed with. The man she'd promised a cup of coffee. Ethan met her stunned gaze and rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile crossing his face. "I guess... I should have introduced myself properly."