Engaged To One Brother But Craved By The Other

3. Noah Valencia

The following morning, Emily had dismissed the bloodstain on her clothes and headed to college. Her grandfather had already persuaded her not to visit the hospital—Kevin was under strict observation, and visitation wasn’t permitted—but he assured her that the best doctors had been assigned solely to his operation.

At college, Emily tried to settle in. She was unusually quiet, enough to make her friends hesitate before approaching her. Freya kept nudging Emma, urging her to say something, but both were too nervous. The last time Emily rushed out of class, it had been because of a distressing hospital call, and neither of them wanted to risk reminding her of bad news.

Finally, Emma broke the silence. “Emily, you seem stressed. Are you okay?”

Emily nodded absentmindedly, though inside, she was anything but fine. Her fingers traced a single line across her notebook, over and over again.

“What about your brother’s health?” Freya asked softly.

That question made Emily stop. With a sigh, she shut her notebook. “He needs surgery, and we can’t afford the hospital bills.”

Freya and Emma exchanged a worried glance before patting her back. “That must be so hard on you,” Emma said gently. “What about your grandfather? Has he thought of something?”

Emily hesitated, then murmured, “I got engaged to—”

“What?” Both girls gasped in unison, drawing curious stares from nearby students.

“Engaged to who?” Freya pressed, eyes wide.

“Noah Valencia.”

“What?” Freya repeated, even louder this time.

The shock was too much to handle in a classroom, so after lectures, the three of them headed straight to a bar. They didn’t even bother going home to change.

“Noah Valencia?” Emma exclaimed, eyes gleaming. “The hottest man on the Internet right now? Girl, you’re lucky!”

Freya frowned. “Lucky? Getting married to a stranger sounds terrifying. Are you really okay with it?”

Emily managed a weak smile. “Of course not. But as long as Kevin gets better, it’ll be worth it.”

“Yeah, of course it’s worth it,” Freya said, her tone bright again. “You’ll be married to a business tycoon—think of the opportunities! Job offers, business ideas—”

Emma shot her a sharp glare, cutting her off. The trio fell into silence, each lost in thought. Emily, however, had already accepted her fate. How bad could it really be? Engaged to the most sought-after bachelor in the city—handsome, intelligent, and powerful—she supposed some would call her lucky.

After a while, the girls said their goodbyes and went home. Emily’s grandfather was already waiting when she arrived.

“How is Kevin?” she asked quickly.

“The surgery is scheduled for tomorrow,” he said. “The surgeon assured me there’s an eighty percent chance of success.”

Relief washed over her. “Just give me a few minutes. I’ll get dressed for the dinner.”

In her room, Emily set her bag aside and looked at her reflection. She chose a simple evening gown with a slit that stopped mid-thigh—modest yet elegant. After a quick shower, she applied light makeup and got dressed.

She wasn’t ready to meet Noah, not emotionally. But what choice did she really have? Her grandfather had done so much for her and Kevin; the least she could do was not add to his worries. Forcing a smile, she called out, “Let’s go, Grandpa.”

Minutes later, Emily and her grandfather arrived at the Valencia mansion. The grand building loomed ahead, reminding her all too well of its younger son. She could only pray not to cross paths with him again.

Inside, the dining room was being prepared. A maid approached politely and led them toward the living room.

“Madam Catherine will be with you shortly,” the maid said before leaving.

Emily rubbed her palms nervously against her dress. Was Noah at home? Would he even like her when he saw her?

She had never been in a relationship before—not since high school. Back then, anger and resentment toward her absentee father had consumed her. She had sworn not to get distracted until she succeeded, determined to prove she could make it without him. But before she could, he died. And now, here she was—about to be married off to a stranger.

“Don’t be nervous, child,” her grandfather murmured, holding her hands. “If he doesn’t treat you well, I’ll sell the house if I have to and get you out of that marriage.”

Emily smiled faintly. Her grandfather had always been her greatest comfort. “He’ll treat me well, Grandpa. You don’t have to worry.”

“I heard you girls like good-looking men,” a familiar voice said.

Emily turned. Madam Catherine was being wheeled into the room, her features softening into a gracious smile. Emily and her grandfather stood to greet her.

“Thank you for honoring my invitation,” Madam Catherine said warmly, extending her arms. Paul bent to give her a respectful peck before stepping aside for Emily to do the same.

“I apologize for the inconvenience yesterday. I promise you, Nicholas won’t be a problem again.”

“I hope so, Catherine,” Paul said sternly. “Emily is my daughter’s child. It would break my heart to see her in pain.”

“I understand,” Madam Catherine replied, placing her hand over his. “You have my word—Emily is in the best hands.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Paul said with a faint chuckle.

“My grandson should be here soon,” Madam Catherine added. “He was held up at his company.”

She led them into the dining room. Paul’s expression showed clear impatience at being kept waiting by his future grandson-in-law, but he followed nonetheless. They settled at the table, waiting as the minutes ticked by.

Then, footsteps echoed from the staircase. Nicholas appeared, looking freshly woken and disheveled.

“Grandma,” he greeted casually before noticing the guests. He bowed politely to Paul, then his gaze found Emily—and lingered.

Emily instantly rolled her eyes, still irritated by his behavior the previous day. She turned her attention back to the empty seat in front of her, pretending not to notice him.

“Nicholas,” Madam Catherine warned, “tell the maid to serve your dinner in your room. I have guests and—”

But Nicholas merely scoffed and dropped into the chair beside Emily. “I’d love to get to know my…” he leaned closer, lowering his voice to a near whisper, “…sister-in-law.”

Emily froze—not because of his teasing tone, but because of his hand. It landed on her thigh, fingers brushing over the slit in her dress. Her pulse spiked. His movements were subtle, hidden from Madam Catherine and her grandfather. As his thumb stroked her skin, she panicked. Should she shout? Move away?

“Nicholas,” Madam Catherine snapped, her voice sharp. “Respect yourself.”

Without a word, Emily grabbed his hand and tore it away from her leg, her expression cold and controlled.

Nicholas only smiled lazily. “Grandma, can’t I get to know my sister-in-law?”

Nicholas glanced at Emily before casually uncovering the dishes.

“Nicholas Valencia,” Madam Catherine snapped, her voice trembling with anger. “Have you no respect?”

But Nicholas ignored her, calmly dishing out food for himself. “What if Noah doesn’t return? Are we supposed to wait till tomorrow? You have to take your medicine soon, don’t you, Grandma?”

Madam Catherine went silent, lost for words.

Paul coughed awkwardly. “Let’s just eat. We’ll see your grandson when he returns.”

Nicholas nodded, satisfied, ignoring his grandmother’s fuming expression. He took a mouthful of soup and then turned to Emily.

“Sister-in-law, try this chicken soup.”

“I’m good…” Emily began, but before she could finish, he had already filled a plate and slid it toward her.

“Here. Try it,” he insisted.

Emily hesitated, glancing at Madam Catherine for rescue, but the old woman simply smiled faintly, urging her to comply. Left with no choice, Emily picked up the spoon and took a small sip.

“Is it delicious?” Nicholas asked, his tone teasing.

Emily nodded quickly—but as she did, a small trail of soup slipped from the corner of her lips. She reached for a napkin, but Nicholas’s thumb was faster. He wiped it off her skin and, to her horror, brought the finger to his lips and licked it clean.

Emily froze. Her breath caught in her throat. Her grandfather’s chair scraped against the floor as he stood abruptly.

“Nicholas Valencia!” Madam Catherine thundered, veins straining at her neck. “Why are you doing this?”

Nicholas only smirked. “Sister-in-law, was the soup delicious?”

Paul grabbed Emily’s arm, pulling her up from her seat. “We’re leaving.”

“Paul, please,” Madam Catherine pleaded, wheeling closer. “Just for my sake—pardon him this once.”

Paul let out a bitter laugh. “Catherine, how do you pardon someone who doesn’t even know remorse? Emily, let’s go.”

Emily followed, half-dragged toward the door, her cheeks burning from humiliation. But just as they reached the entrance, it swung open.

He stepped in.

Dressed in a tailored business suit, briefcase in hand, his black hair slicked back neatly. His eyes—sharp and unreadable—swept through the room, landing on Emily and her grandfather.

Emily’s jaw slackened slightly. So this was Noah Valencia.

The air in the room seemed to shift, growing heavier, colder, as he walked in. His expression was composed, distant, until a faint, polite smile curved his lips.

“You must be Emily,” he said smoothly. “My grandmother has spoken a lot about you.”

He bowed deeply—an exact ninety degrees—before addressing Paul.

“No apology can atone for keeping you waiting, sir, but I am truly sorry.”

Paul’s stern face softened slightly at his courtesy.

Madam Catherine wheeled herself closer, pride lighting her eyes. “Paul,” she said warmly, “you’ve finally met him—my grandson, Noah.”