Serena POV
The hospital smelled faintly of antiseptic and overcooked food. I clutched the two paper bags cutting into my fingers, each one heavier than the last. Honey peanuts, milk candies, sesame crackers, oranges peeled halfway, everything my grandmother loved. I had stopped at three stores before coming, unable to resist the temptation.
Room 317. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open.
"Grandma," I whispered, forcing a smile. "I'm here."
She turned slowly, her cloudy eyes scanning my face without recognition.
"I… can I help you?" she asked, polite but distant.
My chest tightened. Alzheimer's had stolen her memories and left only flickers of the woman I loved.
"It's me, Serena. Your Seri," I said softly.
Nothing.
Her brows furrowed. "I… I don't think I know you."
I knelt, placing the bags on the small table and leveling my gaze with hers.
"It's okay. I'm your granddaughter. I used to steal your peanuts when you weren't looking."
Her eyes flickered. "Seri…?"
"Yes. It's me."
Her frail hand brushed my cheek, trembling. "Oh," she whispered, chuckling weakly as if it were a joke.
We unpacked the snacks in silence, the small room filled only with the quiet clink of wrappers and my careful movements.
"You're sad?" she asked suddenly.
I stiffened. "I'm fine."
"That's what your mother used to say," she murmured. "When she carried more than she should."
Her words pierced me. I looked down.
"Grandma… what do you do when the people you consider family hurt you?"
Her confusion was clear, but instinct remained. "You survive. And you don't always bend to their decisions."
I let out a shaky breath. "I think they're trying to decide my life for me," I admitted. "And I don't know how to stop it."
She pulled me into a frail, gentle embrace. "You're stronger than you think," she murmured. "Just like your mother."
I urged my grandma to rest. Feeling drained, I picked up the remote and clicked on the TV. It flickered to life, showing Damien's confident smile as Lila leaned into him amidst a sea of camera flashes.
"Damien has publicly vowed to support rising actress Lila Hale," the host announced cheerfully.
My chest ached. That had once been my world, my dream, and I had begged for even a fraction of his pride.
"Seri… don't cry," my grandmother murmured sleepily.
I wiped my eyes quickly. "I'm not crying," I said.
I tucked the blanket around her, and she drifted back to sleep.
The corridor outside felt colder than before. My hands still clutched the empty bags. The weight of what awaited me at home pressed down like stone.
When I finally stepped into the house, laughter spilled from the dining room, warm and easy, untouched by reality.
My father sat at the head of the table, calm and composed, slicing his steak as if nothing mattered. My stepmother, beside him, looked satisfied and serene. Lila leaned in, laughing softly, utterly at home.
I hesitated at the top of the stairs.
"Serena."
My father's voice snapped me forward. I turned slowly.
"I know you went to the hospital today," he said casually. "To see your grandmother."
"What's wrong with that," I said to myself.
"I hope that visit helped you think," he continued. "About what will happen to her… if you refuse this marriage."
My chest constricted.
Her stepmother's smile vanished, replaced by a sharp, unforgiving glare. Lila's eyes followed, cold, possessive, warning.
He placed his cutlery down deliberately. "Your grandmother's care is expensive. Medication, specialists, private treatment. I've already told you, if you refuse the Crowe marriage, then I'll stop paying."
The room tilted.
"It's ten thousand dollars," he added casually.
My voice shook. "Dad… that's...."
"Not my problem," he interrupted.
Her stepmother scoffed. "You always exaggerate difficulties. If you were smarter, you'd see that this marriage solves everything.
Lila watched, arms folded, eyes sharp. No sympathy, only irritation.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. "How can you be so cruel?" I demanded. "That's my grandmother. She raised me. She's sick. She doesn't even remember her own name most days!"
"And that," my father cut in evenly, "is why you should stop being emotional and start being useful."
Useful. Hollow.
"You're forcing me," I said hoarsely. "You're using her to force me."
Silence.
"You're cornering yourself," my father continued. "This marriage saves the company. It keeps your grandmother alive. Refuse, and you lose both."
Her stepmother leaned forward. "Stop acting like a victim. Plenty of women would be grateful for this opportunity."
Lila finally spoke, softly. "You should accept it, Serena. Dragging this out is embarrassing."
I thought of my grandmother's frail hand, her soft eyes, the warmth that Alzheimer's hadn't yet stolen.
There was no choice.
"…Fine," I whispered. "…I'll do it."
My father's lips curved with satisfaction. "Good. See? That wasn't so hard."
He picked up his phone. "I'll call the Crowes first thing tomorrow morning."
Lila smoothed her dress, leaning close just enough for her words to sting. "I hope he treats you well. Don't worry about Damien. He's mine now."
I said nothing. I walked to my room, shut the door, slid down against it, and let my sobs shake me quietly.
"The choice was simple but brutal: ten thousand dollars for my grandmother's surgery, or a forced marriage. Just like that, my life was sold."
*Ethan's POV*
The boardroom smelled faintly of polished wood and tension. I slid into my chair, expecting a routine meeting but the hostility hit immediately.
"Ethan, we don't see the value in this acquisition," one of the directors said, tapping his pen impatiently.
"Are you serious?" I snapped. "I've presented the numbers, the forecasts, the projections. This deal will double our market share in six months."
The secretary, Claire, sat in the corner quietly, typing notes and keeping a neutral expression. Her hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail; nothing about her suggested more than professionalism.
"Sir," another board member muttered, "we're following standard protocol. Your proposals require approval from..."
I slammed my hand on the table. "From my father, I know. Don't act like this isn't his doing!"
They froze. I didn't wait. I stormed out, fists tight, blood boiling. Claire followed briefly, glancing at me with quiet concern, but I ignored her.
I didn't stop until I reached my father's mansion. The study smelled of leather and old books; the faint sunlight slicing through the blinds cast long stripes across the floor. He sat behind the massive oak desk, newspaper in hand, completely unbothered.
"Ethan," he said without looking up. "Back so soon?"
"Cut the games," I growled. "Stop manipulating the board. You're undermining me, and I won't tolerate it."
He leaned back, folding his arms, the light catching his sharp jawline. "I placed you there. I gave you the company. And yet, you refuse to heed me. Fine, find another company to be CEO of."
I felt my blood boil. Another company? I built this empire for him. Every decision, every late night, every risk, it's mine.
"It was me who gave you what to build, refuse the marriage and you will lose what you built,"
I exhaled sharply, pacing the room. It's just a marriage. I can divorce her later, I told myself. Find… I'll do it, but only if I get full rights to the company.
He raised a brow, faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Agreed. But there's a condition."
I froze.
"You must remain married for seven years."
"Seven years?!" I barked, incredulous.
"Count yourself lucky it's not ten," he said smoothly. "Within seven years, you'll have given me a grandson, and I won't bother you after that. You're the only child, Ethan. That's why I'm… thorough."
I ground my teeth. I wish I weren't the only child. At least someone else could take the brunt of this.
I couldn't think about going back to the company under this pressure. My head was spinning. I called Claire to reschedule all my meetings. Her voice was soft but steady on the line, yet I barely heard it—I was too focused on the weight of what I'd just agreed to.
I slid into my car, the engine's low rumble matching the anger thrumming through me. As I drove, gripping the wheel tighter than I should, I tried to calm my racing thoughts.
But my mind kept drifting back to the mystery girl my father had chosen.
Who was she.?
Is she a gold digger? a Dumb? Or just full of herself, ready to bend me to her will?
The city lights blurred past, but the question refused to fade. I could feel it gnawing at me: she was coming into my life, whether I wanted her or not. And somehow, I knew this wouldn't be simple.
I tightened my jaw, staring at the road ahead. One thing was certain: I wasn't about to let anyone, especially a stranger to control me.
But deep down, I couldn't stop wondering… what game was she really playing?