Chapter 3
1421 Words
BACK AT THE WILSON’S MANSION
Kian barely stepped out of his car before his mother’s sharp voice cut through the evening air.
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
Margaret Wilson stood by the grand staircase, her designer dress pristine, her nails tapping impatiently against a folder she held. Mark, Kian’s manager, stood stiffly beside her, clearly uncomfortable.
Kian exhaled, already annoyed. “What now?”
“You tell me.” She shot back at him in anger.
Kian sighed, already exhausted. “Mom.”
She ignored him, flipping open the folder. “Do you know what this is?”
Kian glanced at the glossy photos inside—him and Emma at the hotel. His jaw ticked.
“Looks like someone’s been busy.”
Margaret scoffed. “Busy making a fool of yourself.” She turned to Mark. “A one-night stand. With a nobody.”
Kian’s patience thinned. “She has a name. Emma Anderson.”
Margaret arched her brow. “Oh, wonderful. That makes it so much better.” She waved the pictures. “This is viral, Kian. The media is eating it up. Kian Wilson seen with an unknown woman leaving a hotel at dawn. Do you realize the damage this does to our reputation?”
Kian rubbed his temple. “Stop being dramatic.”
Margaret’s lips pursed. “She works for you, doesn’t she?”
His silence confirmed it.
Margaret let out a mirthless laugh. “How cliché. Sleeping with the help?”
Kian’s temper flared. “I’m warning you, Mom—do not do anything to her.”
Margaret dropped the pictures on the table in anger. “How could you? Do you know how many years it took me to build this name? To build the company, to be famous like this and because of a low girl you want to destroy everything.”
Mark rubbed his fingers through his dark curly hair. “I just slept with her, it wasn’t intentional, I was drunk, she was drunk, we are adults.”
“Adults? She can’t be of help to you, she is a low life girl, I have looked into her background, she is so poor.”
“Mom, do not harm her, or you will never see me again.” Kian said.
Margaret’s expression sharpened. “Is that a threat?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he turned, intent on walking away.
Her voice stopped him cold.
“You will marry Louis.”
Kian froze. A slow, incredulous chuckle escaped him. “Try Lucas. I’m not interested.”
Margaret’s face darkened. “I am not asking.”
Kian turned fully, meeting her gaze with quiet defiance. “I don’t care.”
Margaret tilted her head, voice turning deadly sweet. “I can pay the girl off. Make her life miserable. I can ruin her reputation, destroy her career—make sure she never gets another job in this industry, I am going to make her life a nightmare.”
Kian’s stomach clenched.
Margaret’s lips curled. “Or…” she shrugged, “you can have dinner with Louis. One simple evening. No harm, no foul.”
He clenched his jaw.
“Do as I say,” Margaret said smoothly, “or that innocent girl suffers.”
The words felt like a slap.
Kian’s fingers curled into fists. “Fine.”
Margaret smiled, victorious. “A date with Louis.”
“Anything,” Kian bit out.
She gave a satisfied nod. “Good boy.”
—-
Few hours later. Kian sat stiffly in the lavish dining hall of an exclusive five-star restaurant, his fingers drumming against the table. Across from him, Sylvia Thurlington sat with perfect posture, her delicate hands folded over her lap. She was exactly the kind of woman his mother would pick—poised, wealthy, and utterly lifeless.
She hadn’t spoken more than a few words since the date started. Just soft nods and polite smiles.
Kian leaned back in his chair. “You don’t talk much, do you?”
Sylvia blinked at him. “I was raised to listen before I speak.”
He exhaled, already bored. “And what exactly do you think of me, and this marriage?”
She hesitated. “You seem… preoccupied.”
That was an understatement. Kian glanced at his untouched steak, his appetite nonexistent. His mind was still on how he would make an excuse and leave, if Margaret had already started making her life hell.
Sylvia shifted uncomfortably. “I know this isn’t ideal for you.”
“Oh?” He arched his brow. “You mean the fact that my mother is forcing me into a dinner I have no interest in?”
Her lips parted slightly, but she quickly composed herself. “I meant that arranged marriages aren’t always easy.”
Kian let out a short laugh. “So you already consider this a marriage?”
Sylvia’s cheeks tinged pink. “Our families are aligned in business. This has been discussed for months and I guess it’s time you consider it too.”
Kian dragged a hand down his face. Of course. This wasn’t just about him. It was about the Wilson and Thurlington legacy.
Sylvia cleared her throat. “I understand your frustration, but this could be beneficial for both of us.”
Kian scoffed. “Beneficial how?”
She met his gaze, voice calm. “I don’t have unrealistic expectations, Kian. If you don’t want to love me, that’s fine. I just want to do my part.”
Something about how resigned she sounded made Kian frown. “Do your part?”
“My mother expects me to marry well. Your mother expects you to do the same.” She lowered her gaze. “I don’t think we have much of a choice.”
Kian clenched his jaw. “That’s where you’re wrong.”
Sylvia looked up, surprised.
“I don’t care about their expectations.” His voice was sharp, unyielding. “And I don’t care about this so-called business alliance.”
Sylvia remained silent, her expression unreadable.
Kian leaned forward, his tone dropping. “You’re not actually interested in me, are you?”
She hesitated before shaking her head. “No.”
Kian smirked. “Good. That makes two of us.”
A flicker of something—relief, maybe—crossed her face, but before she could respond, a familiar voice cut through the air.
“There you two are.”
Kian’s spine stiffened as Margaret and Sylvia’s mother, Helena Thurlington, approached their table.
Margaret’s eyes flicked to the untouched plates, then to Kian’s expression. “I trust you’re both getting along.”
Sylvia offered a polite nod. “Yes, Mrs. Wilson.”
Margaret smiled approvingly. “Good. We have some exciting news.”
Kian’s grip tightened on the table’s edge. He knew where this was going.
Helena clasped her hands together. “We’ve set a date for the wedding.”
Sylvia inhaled sharply, but she didn’t protest.
Kian, on the other hand, let out a sharp laugh. “You’re joking.”
Margaret’s smile never wavered. “I assure you, I’m not.”
Kian shook his head, leaning back. “This is insane. You can’t just—”
Margaret’s expression darkened. “I can and I have.”
Helena beamed. “The wedding will take place in two months. That should give us enough time to plan the perfect ceremony.”
Sylvia’s lips parted, but she didn’t say a word. She looked trapped.
Kian’s stomach twisted in frustration. “This is ridiculous. You didn’t even ask us.”
Margaret arched her brow. “Would it have made a difference?”
Kian’s mouth opened, ready to fire back, but then Margaret leaned in just slightly, her voice lowering so only he could hear.
“Remember we have a deal,You wouldn’t want that innocent girl to suffer because of you.”
His blood ran cold.
Margaret pulled back, still smiling. “Then it’s settled.”
Helena clapped her hands together. “We’ll start sending out invitations soon.”
Sylvia sat stiffly, staring at the table, clearly overwhelmed.
Kian exhaled slowly, his fists clenched beneath the table. He wanted to fight, wanted to argue, but he knew his mother too well.
Magaret wasn’t done, she turned to Kian, “I would love to invite her.”
Kian turned his gaze to her, “Who?”
“Emma, I was told she is now your personal assistant, I hope she can help with the wedding arrangements.” Margaret said with a wide smile.
- Writer
