Clashing Worlds
1261 Words
Rhea stood at the grand gate of the Cruz mansion, her suitcase beside her, her heart pounding so loudly she could barely hear the hum of the passing cars. The mansion was something out of a dream — no, a fantasy. Ivy crawled over polished marble walls, fountains danced in the front courtyard, and the scent of jasmine floated in the air. A maid opened the front door and smiled warmly.
“Miss Rhea, welcome. This way, please.”
Still stunned by her surroundings, Rhea followed. Her mind raced. Just yesterday, she had accepted a marriage proposal from the mother of a man she’d never met. And now, here she was, moving into his home. What in the world was she doing?
She walked into a spacious hallway lined with glimmering chandeliers. Everything glowed — the floors, the gold trim on the walls, even the staircase railing shimmered like it had been dipped in diamonds. A life of luxury she never asked for.
But the true collision of her world and theirs happened the moment she saw him.
Zayden Cruz.
He was coming down the stairs, lazily, his phone in one hand and a bottle of sparkling water in the other. His hair was a little messy, as if he’d just woken up from a nap, and he wore a silk robe like it was armor. Rhea looked up, and he looked down. Their eyes locked — intense, curious, defiant.
Zay narrowed his eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Rhea crossed her arms. “Excuse me?”
“You’re the gold-digger?”
“And you must be the overgrown man-child I’ve heard so much about,” she snapped.
A maid cleared her throat nervously. “Miss Rhea, I’ll show you to your room.”
Without a word, Rhea brushed past Zay. He didn’t move. He just stared after her like she was a puzzle he had no interest in solving.
But Rhea had barely set down her suitcase when a knock came at the door.
Zay leaned against the doorway. “Let’s cut the act. How much do you want? I’ll double it. Triple. Whatever my mom promised you. Just leave.”
Rhea spun around, fury in her eyes. “You think this is about money?”
“Isn’t it always?” he said, shrugging.
“I said yes to this because my parents needed me to. Because your mother promised me something in return. But make no mistake — I don’t want this any more than you do.”
Zay raised a brow. “So why stay?”
“Because unlike you, I understand duty,” she replied. “And besides, you’re not supposed to see the bride before the wedding day. It’s bad luck.”
He smirked. “I was hoping it’d be enough to cancel the wedding.”
She walked toward the door and slammed it in his face.
Downstairs, Isadora Cruz heard the noise and came up the stairs with graceful steps. She was dressed in an elegant beige suit, pearls at her neck. She arrived just as Zay was about to leave.
“Good, you’ve met,” she said cheerfully.
“Mother, this is ridiculous,” Zay hissed. “A gold digger? Really?”
“Ma’am,” Rhea said, stepping out behind him, “with all due respect, I’ve dealt with worse than your son’s insults, but if this is how he handles guests, I don’t know how he’ll handle a wife.”
Zay turned. “Oh, I’ll handle her just fine — from a distance.”
Isadora clapped her hands once, sharply. “Enough. Zayden, go get some rest. You have a wedding in less than twenty-four hours. Try to be responsible for once in your life.”
Zay muttered something under his breath and stalked off.
Rhea looked at Isadora. “Thank you for standing up for me.”
“No worries, dear. You’ll need a strong backbone in this house. Now get some rest — tomorrow is dress day. And trust me, I have a whole team ready to pamper you.”
The next morning, Rhea awoke in a dream. The Cruz mansion's guest bedroom—now hers—looked like something from a movie. The bedding was silk, the vanity held fresh roses, and even the slippers were monogrammed.
But sleep had been hard. Her mind raced all night. Was she really going to go through with this? Marrying a spoiled billionaire who clearly despised her?
She sat up and reached for her phone. A message from her best friend Mia lit up the screen.
MIA: “Are you alive??? Tell me EVERYTHING. Do you get your own wing? Is he hot???”
Rhea chuckled. Despite everything, Mia’s texts were always a comfort.
Just then, the door opened and in came three women—stylists armed with bags of makeup, hair tools, and accessories.
“Miss Rhea, it’s time to get you ready for the big day,” one of them chirped.
They transformed her into something out of a bridal catalog. Her hair flowed in elegant waves, her skin glowed, and her dress — oh, the dress. Ivory silk, off-shoulder, with tiny pearls stitched into the train.
“Wow,” Rhea whispered to her reflection. “Is this really me?”
Meanwhile, downstairs, Zay was pacing in the foyer. He was wearing a sharp tailored suit, dark navy with gold accents. His mother had made him try on ten outfits before choosing this one.
“You look good,” Isadora said. “It brings out your eyes.”
“I don’t care about my eyes. I care about why the hell I’m getting married.”
“Because it’s time you became a man,” she said simply.
“By forcing me into marriage?”
“You need someone to balance you, Zay. And Rhea is that someone. She’s grounded. She’s strong.”
He groaned. “You think this’ll make me CEO?”
“It’ll help,” she said, fixing his collar. “But more than that, it’ll save you. You’re spiraling, son. And if you keep going the way you are, you’ll lose everything your father built.”
He looked at her. “I miss him, Mom.”
“I know, baby,” she said, softening. “We all do.”
Zay didn’t respond. He just turned away.
Back upstairs, Rhea was ready. As she descended the stairs, the staff gasped softly. Even Zay had to admit — she looked incredible.
But instead of complimenting her, he just said, “You sure you want to ruin your life?”
Rhea lifted her chin. “Already committed.”
The guests arrived, the music played, and before they knew it, they were at the altar.
Zay leaned over and whispered, “Still time to run.”
Rhea whispered back, “Still time to grow up.”
They said their vows, exchanged rings, and the officiant declared them husband and wife.
Cameras flashed, the crowd clapped, but Zay and Rhea barely looked at each other.
In the reception, Zay’s friends slapped him on the back.
“Congrats, man! Married life!” one laughed.
“I didn’t even send the invites,” Zay muttered.
His best friend Roman leaned in. “You didn’t? Bro, your assistant said you sent out hundreds. Gold-trimmed cards and everything.”
Zay blinked. “What the hell…?”
His eyes darted across the room to his mother, who was sipping champagne and pretending not to notice him.
“Oh, I’m going to kill her,” he muttered.
- Writer
