Hunter's POV
"What? Are you kidding, Mr. Divenson?" Calixto's eyes nearly popped out of his head.
"Do I look like I'm joking to you?" I asked.
"No, Sir," he quickly recovered, straightening in his seat.
"Then I'm not joking," I replied, not breaking eye contact. "I want the wedding arranged. Quiet, discreet, and fast. I want the Mayor to officiate at our estate by the lake—something elegant and private. A garden wedding. No press. No leaks. Not even a whisper to the media."
He blinked, still processing my words.
"I want invitations prepared—but I'll allow my bride to choose her gown, the cake, and her shoes. Let her feel she has a say. Also ask if there's a friend she wants to invite."
Calixto looked at me as if I had sprouted horns.
"So, I guess our meeting is over, Cal," I added, turning toward my desk.
He didn't move. "What if she doesn't cooperate?"
I narrowed my eyes. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, what if Ms. Madeline refuses the arrangement?"
The idea hadn't crossed my mind. "You think she'll resist me, Calixto?"
He hesitated. "No, Sir. But I'll be the one convincing her unless… unless you plan to speak with her yourself. Still, I doubt she'll decline. She doesn't even know who you are."
"She won't refuse," I said with quiet certainty. "Madeline Brownwood is strong-willed, but she's loyal to a fault. Judging by her choices, she'll do anything to save her aunt. Once you pay off the debts, she'll come willingly. She's too noble not to."
"And tell her this from me," I added, my voice softer now, "she can continue her studies. I'll make sure of it. It would be a shame for someone like her not to pursue her dreams. She's bright. Gifted."
"And beautiful," Calixto muttered, not quite under his breath.
I didn't answer. The words sat uneasily in the air between us.
After he left, I paced. The office felt colder than usual, the weight of my decision pressing on my chest. Calixto would meet her today. By now, maybe he already had. I hoped she came without needing to be pushed. I wanted her to choose to walk through those gates, not be dragged. I had settled her aunt's debts. She no longer needed to toil through night shifts or worry about bills. At the mansion, she would have comfort. A room of her own. Staff to care for her. Anything she needed, she'd have.
I kept checking the clock until my phone rang.
"Mr. Divenson," Calixto's voice buzzed with restrained excitement. "Everything's set. Your future wife is here. I've introduced her to your family. And, Sir… you're going to fall for her. I promise."
I frowned. "Stop the nonsense, Cal. You know I'm not marrying for love. I'm doing this out of duty. Tell Cerila to assist my bride. Let Maddie pick any dress she likes from the wardrobe. I had everything prepared."
"I already told her, Sir. Will you be heading home now?"
"In a bit. Let everyone know I'll be there before dinner."
After the call ended, I remained still, gripping the edge of my desk. I hadn't hired a personal driver since Frank passed. I couldn't bring myself to trust anyone behind the wheel anymore. Losing someone close like that—once is enough.
I loaded my briefcase into the back of the SUV and slid behind the wheel, the leather cold against my palms. The engine roared to life, but the thrum beneath my hands did little to calm the storm brewing in my chest.
As the road curled up the hills toward Divenson Estate, a strange tightness gripped me—an ache that pulsed somewhere between anticipation and dread. I didn't want to name it. Didn't want to feel it. But it was there, constant and unwelcome.
I'd met more women than I could count. Models with practiced smiles. Heiresses with diamonds for souls. They all blurred into the same meaningless background. None of them ever made me pause.
But her…
This girl I'd only seen in photographs—Madeline Brownwood—had already left a fingerprint on my mind.
Her eyes. Clear, haunted, full of something I couldn't quite define. Strength cloaked in gentleness. Vulnerability forged into quiet resilience.
And it bothered me—how much I remembered her face. How much I kept thinking of her.
This isn't about love. I reminded myself for the hundredth time, gripping the wheel tighter.
Love was messy. Unreliable. Unnecessary. I didn't need it. What I needed was an heir. A wife would silence the board, satisfy my parents, and fulfill the final request of a man who had served me with unwavering loyalty.
Frank gave me this chance with his last breath—and I owed him that much. Still, when I pulled into the estate and parked outside the grand hall, I found myself checking my reflection in the rearview mirror. Straightening my tie. Smoothing my hair.
Ridiculous.
I stepped inside thirty minutes early, the familiar scent of polished wood and aged stone welcoming me home. My parents were already seated at the long dining table, dressed in quiet elegance. My father nodded when he saw me. My mother smiled softly.
And then—
"Hunter!"
A blur of motion collided into my side. Lily, my youngest sister, threw her arms around me with the kind of love only children know how to give.
"You're here!" she beamed, tipping her head back. "And your bride-to-be is so beautiful. I'm glad you're marrying someone like her!"
I let out a breath of a laugh and ruffled her hair. "Don't let her hear you say that too often. I don't want her getting used to compliments."
Lily giggled, but her words echoed in my mind as I walked toward the table.
Your bride-to-be is beautiful.
A strange phrase. It felt surreal to hear it spoken aloud. Real.
Among my siblings, Lily was the only one who looked at me without judgment. The others saw only a rival. The heir. The golden son. They didn't understand the weight I carried. They only envied the crown.
There were days I thought about giving it all up. Starting from scratch. Building something that was mine and mine alone.
But duty had a way of crushing dreams.
Our empire was on the verge of ruin when I took the reins. For three years, I gave it everything—my time, my youth, my soul. And I brought it back to life. Tripled our earnings. Restored what generations nearly lost.
I did it without love. Without softness. Without distractions.
Just pure, cold ambition.
And then the doors opened.
The sound of heels on marble echoed in the vast hall. My thoughts scattered.
Cerila entered, poised as always—and behind her…
The world narrowed.
Madeline.
She didn't walk in. She arrived.
Tall and graceful, with a quiet dignity that silenced the air itself. Her hair fell like silk over her shoulders, and her eyes—those same eyes from the photographs—met mine with a calm I didn't expect. She wore no arrogance, no pretension. Just quiet confidence.
And her beautiful smile undo me. It was the kind of smile that could undo kingdoms. Gentle, radiant, and heartbreakingly pure.
How the hell was this Frank's daughter?
I stood before I knew I was moving, drawn to her like a man in a trance. Every part of me—body, breath, blood—moved in her direction. My heart, which had known only control and cold calculation, betrayed me with a traitorous skip.
And when she smiled back at me, something broke inside me.
Something caved in my chest, and I couldn't tell if I was falling or flying.
I crossed the room in long, confident strides, my mouth lifting into a smile so foreign it felt like it didn't belong to me. A real one. Unpracticed. Unforced.
For the first time in a long time, I forgot the script.
"I'm sorry I wasn't here to welcome you, Maddie," I said, voice low. "I promise I'll make it up to you."
Before she could respond, I leaned down and claimed her lips.
It wasn't part of the plan. But once I kissed her, I couldn't stop. Her lips were soft, unsure—but curious. Sweet, like ripe strawberries in spring. And when she leaned into the kiss, just a little, I lost all control.
I pulled back before it went too far, brushing her waist as I whispered, "So eager to kiss me, Ms. Brownwood?" Then, I playfully nibbled her ear. Her shiver didn't go unnoticed.
I helped her into a chair and sat beside her, glancing around at my family. They were smiling. They approved. I'd done my part.
"Shall we start dinner?" I asked, and my mother nodded graciously.
The aroma of roasted meats, freshly baked bread, and seasoned vegetables filled the dining hall, weaving through the air like a warm invitation. The chefs had outdone themselves, and any other night, I might have appreciated it.
But tonight, I was already full—from something far more intoxicating than food.
That kiss.
It still lingered on my lips, a phantom sensation I couldn't shake. Maddie sat beside me, her posture poised yet uncertain, her fingers lightly tracing the rim of her water glass. Her plate remained untouched.
She hadn't eaten a single bite.
Neither had I.
I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice just enough for her to feel the intimacy of it.
"You should eat, my love," I said, not bothering to hide the endearment. "I don't want you looking too skinny on our wedding day."
She glanced at me, startled by the softness in my tone.
"Your body's perfect," I added, letting the words settle between us. "Keep it that way… for me."
Her lashes fluttered, and her breath hitched. A flush bloomed across her cheeks—faint but unmistakable. She dipped her head, nodding once, as if my approval mattered more than she wanted to admit.
And in that moment, I knew.
She was falling for me.
It was subtle, barely there. But I'd seen enough guarded expressions to recognize when a wall began to crack. Her silence wasn't indifference—it was uncertainty laced with fascination. The way she sat closer than she had to, the way her eyes drifted toward me when she thought I wouldn't notice—it was all there.
And for reasons I didn't care to explore, I was glad. Not because I needed her affection. But because it meant this arrangement might go smoother than I thought.
Still, as I watched the pink in her cheeks deepen and her hand falter near the silverware, I realized something else:
She wasn't the only one caught in a slow unraveling.