The CEO Who Feared Love

Chapter 2

The city never slept. Neither did I.

I stood by the massive glass window of my penthouse suite, my fingers curled loosely around a crystal glass of scotch I hadn’t tasted. The lights of Manhattan flickered like scattered diamonds, too bright for a man like me, too loud for the silence I craved. The city’s pulse was relentless, a constant reminder that life moved forward regardless of my own stagnation. But here, in this high-rise sanctuary, the noise was distant, drowned out by the hum of solitude and the ghosts of my past.

Father had called again. His voice still echoed in my head, a relentless refrain that I couldn’t quite drown out.

“You owe him, Richard. You know it,” he’d said, his tone low and commanding. As if I could forget.

I didn’t owe anyone anything. Least of all some small-town girl I’d never met, who was about to walk into my life under the name of “wife.” My jaw tightened at the thought. Marriage wasn’t in my vocabulary, let alone love. Not after what I’d seen. Not after what my own mother taught me.

She was the first woman to ruin everything.

I watched her lie to my father with a perfect smile, watched her sneak strange men into our home while he slaved to build our family name. I was twelve when I caught her. Fourteen when I stopped believing love was real. Sixteen when I promised myself I’d never be weak like him.

And now? I was being forced into a marriage.

For debt. For loyalty. For something I didn’t ask for.

“Just meet her,” Father had said. “You don’t have to love her. Just keep the name clean. It’s a contract, not a fairytale.”

A contract. That was more my language.

I turned away from the window and walked toward my desk. A manila folder waited there, thin but heavy with the weight I didn’t want to carry. It was a burden I wasn’t prepared to accept, yet I knew I had no choice but to open it.

I opened it slowly.

There she was.

Lily.

Her eyes were too soft. Her face... too pure. She didn’t belong in my world. I didn’t want her in it. Fragile girls break easily—and I didn’t have the patience to fix anything that shattered.

“Beautiful,” I muttered under my breath. “But beauty doesn’t equal strength.”

And I needed strength.

Or silence.

Preferably both.

I leaned back in my leather chair and flipped through more pages. Her file wasn’t thick. A birth certificate, school records, a medical report from years ago showing signs of childhood trauma. That one stopped me. I stared at the words, something twisting uncomfortably in my chest. It was a strange, unfamiliar sensation—an ache I refused to identify. I pushed it aside.

I didn’t need to know her story. I didn’t care.

The less I knew, the easier it was to keep her at arm's length.

Naomi, my assistant, buzzed through the intercom.

> “Sir, your father is on the line. Again.”

I sighed, already knowing what was coming. “Put him through.”

> “You made up your mind?” my father asked without greeting, his voice sharp, expectant.

“I don’t need a wife,” I said calmly. “Especially not one I didn’t choose.”

> “You didn’t choose your legacy either, Richard. But you carry it.”

I clenched my jaw, feeling the familiar surge of frustration. The weight of expectation bore down on me like a heavy stone. My father’s words were a reminder of the chains I was born into, the bloodline that demanded allegiance.

“She’s innocent,” he continued. “You won’t even have to try. Just... give her a name. A roof. That’s all.”

A name.

Like mine meant anything.

Still... if this would end his nagging and clear the favor he owed her dead father, I supposed I could endure it.

“Fine,” I said, my voice low but firm. “I’ll marry her.”

> “You’ll marry her?”

“Just to get it over with.”

> “That’s... enough.”

I hung up without another word and poured myself another drink I wouldn’t taste. The amber liquid shimmered in the glass, cold and uninviting. Let her come. Let her think this is some kind of second chance or romantic rescue. Let her believe whatever she wants.

But I wasn’t her savior. I was the storm.

And if she broke... I wouldn’t pick up the pieces.

---

The next morning, I arrived at my office at 6:30 sharp. Most of my staff wouldn’t clock in for another hour, but I liked the quiet. The stillness before the storm. The calm before chaos.

Naomi was already at her desk, as usual. Efficient, unreadable, and smarter than most of the men I hired. Her sharp eyes flicked to me as I entered.

"She arrives this Friday," Naomi said without looking up from her screen. "The flight’s confirmed. Her guardian will be escorting her."

"Guardian?"

"Her mother."

I scoffed. “She needs a babysitter?”

"She’s barely twenty-one."

I didn’t respond. I just walked into my office and slammed the door behind me, the heavy thud echoing in the quiet space. Friday. Three days away.

Three days until my entire life became someone else’s fantasy. A lie with a ring on it.

I sat behind my desk, staring at the framed photo of my late grandfather. The one man who believed in duty more than anything else. He’d built the name Knight from nothing, brick by brick, lie by lie. Now I was expected to uphold it.

“Marry her and protect the name,” he used to say.

But I wanted more than that. Or maybe... less.

No ties.

No guilt.

No one needing me.

My gaze drifted again to Lily’s photo. Her soft eyes, her delicate features—something about her seemed out of place in this world. Why did she look like someone who needed saving? Why did something about her feel... familiar?

I shook the thought away.

I didn’t want to feel anything.

Not for her.

Not for anyone.

But beneath the surface, a flicker of curiosity ignited. Who was she, really? Beyond the files, beyond the surface? Was she as fragile as she appeared? Or was there an unspoken strength hidden behind those gentle eyes?

The thought unsettled me more than I liked to admit.

As I leaned back in my chair, I caught sight of a small, folded piece of paper on my desk. An envelope, unmarked. I hesitated before opening it. Inside was a handwritten note.

*“Some truths are better left buried. Don’t judge her before you know her story.”*

I stared at the words, frowning. Who had left it? And what did it mean?

The door to my office swung open suddenly. Naomi peeked her head in.

“Sir, I think you should see this,” she said softly, holding a small photograph.

I took it, my eyes narrowing.

It was a picture of Lily—her face, innocent and unaware—standing beside a woman I didn’t recognize. The woman’s arm was wrapped protectively around Lily’s shoulders, her expression tender. A moment frozen in time.

A revelation?

Or a warning?

I placed the photo down carefully. Whatever this was, it complicated things. And I didn’t like complications.

I pushed away the growing unease and focused on the upcoming days. Three days. I could keep her at arm’s length until then. Keep her quiet. Keep her safe from my world.

But deep down, I knew that whatever this was—what I was about to step into—it wouldn’t stay contained for long.

Because some storms, once awakened, are impossible to tame.

And I was about to find out just how much I could withstand.

---

The clock ticked on, marking the silent countdown to the day everything would change.

And I wondered—how much of her was like me? Or was she already broken in ways I couldn’t see? Would she shatter under the weight of my silence—or would she somehow find the strength to stand tall?

I didn’t have the answers.

All I knew was that I was about to meet her.

And the city that never slept would watch us collide.