Chapter 2 Are you really getting married

ANNA'S POINT OF VIEW

Rose's eyes found mine in an instant, the sole confidant of my hidden affection for Stephen. The notion of him getting married still feels surreal to me, and I can sense Chris and Rose share my disbelief.

"You are doing what?" Chris chortles, his laughter constant in any situation.

"I am getting married," Stephen states, his voice carrying a weight that silences the room. "To whom?" Chris and I question in unison.

"Olivia"

"Olivia Fallon?" The shock resonates among us. She is notorious for her abrasive attitude towards everyone, be it the paparazzi, her fans, or her so-called friends. "You are actually marrying the ice queen herself?" Rose's voice is tinged with incredulity.

"Indeed. My father arranged it, Stephen replied, his jaw tightening. Does this mean he is not entering into this marriage willingly?

"Do you really want to marry her?" I probe gently.

"Why would he ask if he didn't, Anna?" Micheal King's authoritative tone fills the room. Stephen's father was known for his harshness. He burdened Stephen with the family business at just nineteen, sapping his youth and vitality. His lack of paternal warmth is painful to witness, especially considering how it stripped him of his carefree college days. Instead of memories with friends and adventures, he was inundated with contracts and corporate responsibilities. It was a bleak period, and he distanced himself from us all, myself included. Yet, we managed to bring him back from the edge, not entirely, but enough to see him smile again. Pulled from my reverie by Michael's imposing presence, I prepare to confront the man who has never shown a shred of compassion.

"Alright, congratulations!" I rose and approached him, embracing him tightly. Within, my heart fractures, harboring a love for him that I must now conceal.

"Thanks," he responds, returning the embrace. I fight back the tears that edge closer to freedom.

"Look at that, Stephen is off the market!" Chris bellows, giving him a hearty, comradely hug. Rose's touch is gentle on my shoulder.

"Annabelle, are you alright?" she inquires, her concern as transparent as glass.

"I'm good, Rose," I assured her with a smile, though she saw right through it.

'I kinda pictured you with Anna, Stephen. Guess life has other plans, Jace mutters. I glanced at Stephen, his expression unreadable as ever.

"I should get going. Enjoy your meal, everyone. And once more, congrats, Stephen" I say with a smile that he mirrors. "I can tag along," Rose offers, reaching for her bag.

"No need, I'm fine," I insist, and she understands, taking her seat again. "Take care, Anna," Chris says, planting a kiss on my forehead.

"Goodbye."

"Let me walk you out," Stephen offers, his hand finding mine, reigniting a familiar warmth. The thought of leaving his side brings a surge of emotion I can barely contain.

"No, that's okay," I gently remove his hand. His eyes flickered with a hint of pain. You have your happiness to look forward to.

"See you around," I say with a parting smile, and made my way to the door, heading straight for the solace of my car.

Exiting the mansion, I made a beeline for my car. "Martin, could we swing by Starbucks?" I asked, always mindful to treat those who work for me with respect.

He nods in agreement, and we pull away from the Kings estate. Thoughts of Olivia Fallon, soon to be Olivia Kings swirl in my mind, stirring a twinge of jealousy. Did Stephen truly wish to marry her, or was it a decision made under duress?

As Starbucks looms ahead, the drive-thru is bustling. I decided to step out, and immediately met with a barrage of inquiries.

"Ms. Anna, when's your new collection debuting?"

"Are you seeing anyone at the moment?"

"What was your compensation for the Victoria's Secret shoot?" Yes, modeling is another facet of my life.

"Have you been in contact with Stephen King today?"

"Is your father in town?"

"Why did things end with Trey Morgan?" The mention of his name halts me; it's been ages since I last heard it.

"I hope you're all having a wonderful day. Could we perhaps pace the questions?" I asked, maintaining composure. "Sophia, any comments on the recent philanthropy by Kings Industries?"

"I believe it's a commendable move. The New York Cancer-Fighting Community holds a dear place in their hearts," I responded with a smile, biting back any further thoughts about Olivia's abilities. Time to focus, Sophia.

As I swing open the doors to Starbucks, I practically dart inside. Standing in line, a tap on my shoulder startled me, and I turned to see a young girl, likely around nine years old, dressed in a cute floral dress with a channel crossbody bag.

"Hi," she says shyly. Recognizing me, she asks if she can take a picture because she's a fan of my clothing line. We snap a selfie, and I'm filled with warmth seeing her smile.

Moving to the counter, I ordered a caramel latte before swiftly making my way back to my car, evading the paparazzi.

STEPHEN'S POINT OF VIEW

Thoughts about my impending marriage swirl in my mind, but my heart yearns for someone else Anna. She's the embodiment of kindness, even in the face of paparazzi harassment.

However, my family's complicated dynamics, especially my father's manipulative tactics, force me into a marriage with Olivia Fallon for business reasons. But my loyalty lies with Annabelle, and I've been secretly working to secure control of my family's company, Kings Industries.

As my phone rings, I quickly answer it and hear the news from one of my employees about the capture of the man responsible for drugging Annabelle. Excitement rushes through me, and I knew I have to act fast. "Guys, I've got to go," I announced before rushing out of the house and jumping into my car, speeding through the streets until I reached the abandoned street.

Approaching the man tied to a chair, I felt a mixture of disgust and anger at his smug demeanor. "Stephen Kings," I addressed him sternly.

"Do you understand why you're here?" I demanded. His smirk only infuriates me further as he admits to drugging Annabelle. Without hesitation, I drew a pocket knife, tracing it menacingly down his cheek.

"No one harms her and lives," I declare before plunging the blade into his stomach.

Mocking his delusions of Annabelle's affection, I laugh at his futile attempts to manipulate her feelings. With each stab, I reinforce the consequences of his actions, ensuring he understands the severity of his betrayal.

"Rick, let him bleed out," I order, discarding the knife and wiping my hands clean. This man thought he could escape justice, but he was sorely mistaken.