The Billionaire's Forced Bride

An Offer

Chapter 004

Amara's POV

The incredible silence that followed the moment Damian exited was louder than the chaos that had preceded it. My family all turned and stared at me as though I had sprouted horns overnight, each gaze judgmental, especially from my mother, deadly curiosity from Sisi, and of course, indifference from Victor, who, from his expression, looked like he was just waiting for an excuse to leave. My father was no exception, though his was unreadable.

I wanted to scream for them to believe me, to cry, to defend myself, but I was tired. So tired of doing that, but leaving them to think about whatever they want.

“Amara,” mom, finally decided to break the silence, her tone cold and sharp. “Do you, anyway, realize what you’ve done? Do you know the extent of humiliation I just got right now in my house?”

I resisted the great urge to say something reckless. Instead, I said, “Nothing bad happened, Mom.”

“Nothing? Really,” she repeated, her voice rising. “So that crazy man just stormed in here to play knight in shining armor with no reason? Do you take us as fools you can easily play?”

“Mom, I...”

“No!” She furiously cut me off, pointing a shaky finger at me. “You’ve succeeded in ruining everything! The Graham family with their reputation like this will never forgive us for this scandal. Do you have any idea of how much I’ve invested in making this engagement perfect the way it was last night?”

Of course, that's all it's all about. It has always been about appearances. My happiness or wellbeing never factored into her calculations.

Victor suddenly cleared his throat, drawing all attention back to him. “I think we’re finally done here,” he said flatly. “Amara, I’ll waste no time in sending someone to collect the ring later.”

My heart sank on hearing that, he turned and made his way out, his footsteps vibrating like a death knell. He didn’t even care to look back.

“Victor!” my mother desperately called after him, but he didn’t stop. She turned to face me, her face greatly contorted with rage. “You better find a way to fix this, Amara. I don’t care how, but you will fix this and save me from this shame.”

Before I could find my words and respond, Sisi let out a dramatic sigh, shaking her hair with exaggerated nonchalance. “Well, this is a beautiful mess, isn’t it?”

“Stay out of this, Sisi,” I lashed out with no control, my voice sharper than I intended.

“Why? It’s not in any way my fault you made up your mind to have a scandalous little sleepover with a stranger,” she said, sneering triumphantly. “Honestly, Amara, you’re usually very plain and boring. But right now, all I can say is that, I’m impressed.”

I glared at her with fire in my eyes, but she just shrugged like it was nothing and sauntered out of the room, her heels noisily clicking against the floor like a betrayal that she is.

I stormed out of the house, desperately in need of fresh air outside the one I shared with my family. The sun was not that high in the sky, but the radiation coming from it only helped with my headache becoming worse.

I didn’t have a particular destination in mind, so I just walked, just to be away from them. My thoughts were already messed up by anger, shame, and confusion. How had everything fallen apart so quickly without me knowing it?

“Rough morning?”

The familiar voice startled me, and I spun around only to see Damian leaning casually against a luxurious sleek black car parked at the curb. He looked annoyingly composed, I for someone that just added to my trouble this morning, his suit perfectly fitted, impeccable and his expression unreadable.

“What exactly are you doing here?” I asked, crossing my arms.

“Making sure you’re perfectly okay,” he said simply.

“I can't remember asking for your help.”

“No, you didn’t, and I don't need to wait,” he agreed, packing the car and walking toward me. “But I somehow figured you could use it anyway.”

I opened my mouth to resort to whatever he was saying, but somehow, the right words refused to form, my throat going dry. Instead, I said, “Why then did you decide to lie on my behalf?”

“Lie?” His lips formed into an annoying small smile. “I didn’t lie. I only told them nothing happened, which is what they wanted to hear, and that's how it happened.”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

He focused his gaze on me, studying me for a moment. “Let’s just say I don’t fancy bullies in my corner. And just a single visit, I could tell you had enough of them in that room.”

I blinked, totally confused and caught off guard by the unexpected kindness in his words.

“Well, thanks, I guess that's what I should say,” I muttered, looking away shyly.

“You’re welcome any time,” he said lightly. Then, after a pause, he added, “But I’m somehow curious though, why didn’t you tell them the truth?”

“The truth, you mean?” I laughed bitterly. “That I was drunk on my engagement night, then accidentally ended up in your room, and… what again? Fell asleep afterward?”

“That’s exactly what happened that night, isn’t it?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” I said, shaking my head. “People, for reasons best known to them, see what they want to see.”

Damian frowned, his brows furrowed in confusion, and it was clear he was trying to work out some puzzle from my life. “You’re considering giving up too easily,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re giving them the privilege to direct the narrative. If you don’t find a way and fight back, they’ll make you the villain in your own story.”

I laughed in a humorless manner. “And do you think I was supposed to do? March back in there and declare my innocence? It's obvious they’ve already made up their minds.”

“Then, ensure to change their minds,” he said, his tone very firm.

I stared weirdly at him, very frustrated and confused. “Why do you even care? You don’t even know anything about me.”

“Maybe, somehow, I like underdogs,” he said with a smirk.

“Is this a joke to you?”

“Not at all,” he said, his expression suddenly changing to serious. “In fact…” He paused, as if weighing the weight of his words carefully. “I think we are good at helping each other.”

“Help each other?” I repeated, skeptical of whatever he was planning.

“I have my own reasons for requesting you stay in Lakeshore,” he explained. “Reasons that, while carefully analyzed, require a certain… image. And you? You seriously need someone to take the heat off you right now.”

“What exactly are you suggesting now?”

“A kind of business partnership,” he said smoothly. “You and me will go along easily. Pretend we’re together, though it's going to be temporarily, of course. It’ll definitely shut your family up, keep the gossip mill busy, and most importantly, buy us both some breathing room.”

I stared at him still confused, my mind reeling. Was he really serious?

“And what then do you get out of this?” I asked, suspicious of his intentions.

“A chance to quietly settle some ugly scores,” he said cryptically without smiling.

I hesitated, my instincts in a way screaming at me to say yes that very minute. To do that and shut off my mother’s rage, Victor’s cold and unfriendly dismissal, and most importantly, Sisi’s smug smile. But I suddenly remembered I still had a life outside the grip of my family.

The air surrounding us was becoming thick with unspoken emotions, the kind that makes your pulse race for all the wrong reasons. Damian stood there, impossibly composed, his piercing gaze still fixed on me.

“I’ll then make it simple,” he said, his voice very low but still firm. “Marry me.”

I blinked in confusion, certain I had misheard whatever he said. “What?”

“You heard me right,” he replied smoothly, stepping closer. “It’s going to be a win-win. You’re already caught in this unimaginable mess, and I need a wife for strong reasons that don’t concern you. We both all get what we want.”

I let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking my head at him, and hoping he would tell me it was a joke. “Are you serious right now?”

“Dead serious.”

His confidence was so demanding and commanding, the way he said it felt like it was a foregone conclusion. As if I would just fall at his feet because he snapped his fingers.

“Look,” I said, trying to keep my voice somewhat steady as I was still shocked he could come up with such an idea. “I don’t know what kind of women you’re interested in, but I’m not about to marry a man I barely know and never loved just to clean up some gossip.”

“This isn’t anything about love,” he said bluntly. “It’s solely about practicality now. You’ve seen everything about yourself, how your family treats you. Do you really have the thought they’ll let this go? With me, you’ll not only have protection, your status, your reputation will be upgraded and a way out of their control.”

I crossed my arms, glaring hard at him speechlessly. “I don’t need even remember telling you that I need rescuing, Damian.”

“And yet, you’re here drowning,” he shot back, his gaze still unwavering.

His words hit a nerve, so hard that I almost bent, but I refused to let him see it. “If I’m drowning, I’ll definitely learn to swim,” I said, lifting my chin.

“Amara,” he said, his voice softer now, almost in a coaxing tone. “You’re beautiful and smart enough to know that life doesn’t generously hand you second chances often. Think hard about it, a life with no more interfering from your mother, no more irrelevant petty jabs from your sister, and no more Victor. Just freedom all the way.”

For a split second, I wavered at his preaching. The picture he painted suddenly was very tempting, but I couldn’t ignore the cost.

“Freedom,” I repeated, my voice sharp. “But not free, with strings attached. You obviously don’t want a wife, Damian. You only desire a chess piece to move around your board. I’m not interested in your offer.”

Something surfaced in his eyes, maybe anger, or disbelief, maybe even real hurt. Whatever it was, he ensured to mask it quickly.

“Are you very sure?” he asked, his tone now becoming icy now. “Because once I turn and walk away, the offer is gone.”

I stepped back, my resolve the same. “I’m very sure.”

The silence that followed was unbelievable and deafening. Damian’s jaw clenched, and I could see his hands curling into fists at his sides. He wasn’t used to witnessing a lady reject him, or being told no, that much was clear.

“Good luck in your life, Amara,” he said finally, his voice cutting. “You’re going to need it very much.”

With that, he turned and left, his retreating figure radiating all fury.

I stood there, my heart pounding uncontrollably. A part of me wanted to call him back, to apologize, and at least explain, but I never did. I couldn’t do it, but I should have. Perhaps he may be right by saying I would regret my decision, or I'm overthinking things, things that were meant to help me.