Chapter 1
The tea on the glass table had gone cold, but my uncle hadn't stopped talking for twenty minutes. He kept pacing across the thick living room rug, his fingers twitching on his gold watch. Every time he looked at me, it wasn't like he was looking at his nephew. It was like he was appraising an old car he was desperate to get off his lot.
"You need to understand the position we are in, Tristan," Uncle Raymond said, his voice dropping into that fake, heavy tone he used when he wanted something from me. "Since your parents died, I have carried the weight of this family's debts. I have kept a roof over your head. I have fed you. But the market is crashing, and the banks are circling us."
I kept my hands flat on my knees, staring down at my worn sneakers. I didn't remind him that my parents had left behind a massive life insurance policy and three properties—all of which had mysteriously vanished into my uncle’s bad business investments over the last four years. I knew better than to argue. Arguing with Raymond only earned me a locked bedroom door and no dinner.
"The Walters family has approached us," Raymond continued, stopping right in front of my chair. He leaned down, placing his heavy hands on the armrests, trapping me. "Old Madam Walters is on her deathbed. She has days left, maybe hours. She wants to see her grandson settled before she passes. More importantly, she wants to repay an old debt she owed to your father."
I frowned, looking up at him. "Repay a debt? How?"
"By joining our families," Raymond said, a greedy smile finally breaking across his face. "You are marrying Leo Walters. Tomorrow."
My jaw went slack. I stared at him, trying to process the words. "Leo Walters? But... he's a man. And his family is..."
"His family is the richest elite in this city," Raymond snapped, his patience wearing thin. "They own the shipping lines, the real estate, the banks. A single signature from Leo Walters can wipe out all my debts and secure our family for the next three generations."
"But Uncle, I don't even know him," I whispered, my chest tightening. "And he doesn't know me. Why would he agree to marry a guy he’s never met?"
Raymond straightened up, waving his hand dismissively. "He doesn't have a choice. He is a dutiful grandson, and the old lady is using her final breaths to demand this. It doesn't matter what he wants. The papers are already being drawn up. You will pack your things tonight. A car will pick you up at eight o'clock tomorrow morning to take you straight to the registry office."
He turned on his heel and walked toward the door, not waiting for my response. He never waited for my response. Before he stepped out, he paused, looking back over his shoulder. "Don't ruin this for me, Tristan. If you try to run, or if you say something stupid to the Walters family, you won't have a home to come back to. I will throw you out on the street with nothing but the clothes on your back."
The door clicked shut, leaving me alone in the quiet, dim living room.
There's this strange dangerous energy I don't understand it, but I try not to let it out. It's anger but I get scared of it myself.
I let out a long breath I hadn't realized I was holding. My hands were shaking, but besides the fear, a strange, tiny spark of relief flared up. I was nineteen years old. For four years, this house had been a prison. My uncle monitored every cent I spent, yelled at me for using too much hot water, and treated me like an unwanted burden.
If marrying this stranger meant I could finally leave this house, maybe it wasn't a curse. Maybe it was an escape.
I didn't know anything about Leo Walters other than what I saw in the business magazines—that he was young, brilliant, and completely unyielding in the corporate world. I figured he would be cold, and we would probably live like strangers in a big house. I could handle that. As long as he left me alone, I could endure a quiet, lonely life if it meant being free from Raymond.
I went up to my small bedroom and packed everything I owned into a single, battered suitcase. It didn't take long, because I didn't own much.
The next morning, the registry office was completely empty except for three people: myself, a government official, and Leo Walters.
There was no ceremony, no flowers, no music, and no smiling guests, perfect right!
Leo stood by the window, his tall figure silhouetted against the morning light. He wore a perfectly tailored dark gray suit, his broad shoulders squared, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.
He didn't look at me when I walked in, his entire aura was freezing, radiating a dark, heavy anger that filled the entire room.
"Mr. Walters, Mr. West," the official said, clearing his throat nervously. "If you could both come to the desk to sign the marriage certificates."
Leo walked over, his movements were slow, deliberate, and full of tension. When he finally looked at me, his eyes were pitch black and filled with a cold, burning disgust that made me freeze in my tracks.
"Let's get this over with," Leo said. His voice deep, rough, and devoid of warmth.
He grabbed the pen, scrawling his signature on the document without a second thought. He tossed the pen down on the desk, his eyes locking onto mine again.
"Look at you," Leo muttered, his voice dropping so low the official couldn't hear. "A nineteen-year-old boy selling himself to a dying old woman's guilt just to get his hands on my family's money. You and your uncle are disgusting.
"I... I didn't ask for the money," I stammered, my voice small.
"Save it," Leo cut me off, his lip curling in disdain. "You got what you wanted. You have the Walters name now. But don't expect anything else from me. You are nothing but a contract to fulfill my grandmother's final wish."
He didn't wait for me to sign. He turned around, his long strides taking him out of the registry office before I could even pick up the pen. The heavy glass doors swung shut behind him, leaving me standing there alone with the official.
My hand trembled as I signed my name next to his. Tristan Walters.
I had thought I was escaping a prison. But as I looked at the black ink on the white paper, a cold dread settled deep in my stomach. I hadn't escaped at all.
I sniffed as I waited for the stamp, I smiled as I looked at the old man who looked at me with pity "Thank you!"
He looked like he wanted to say something but I didn't wait for him, I took the envelope and walked out, the last thing I needed was pity.
Tristan
