Chapter 5 The Arrangement

Freedom is a lie when your fate is already sealed.

--

You know that cliché movie scene where someone wakes up after an incident? The slow flutter of eyelids, the fuzzy fade-in of consciousness, snatches of conversation drifting in and out? Sometimes they wake with amnesia, unsure who or where they are.

Turns out, that's all wrong.

The moment my eyes snapped open, the world came into brutal, crystal-clear focus. Every agonizing detail from last night surged back like a tidal wave-Chase's voice, his grip, Alex's punch, and the suffocating shame that coated my skin like poison. My heart clenched.

I wasn't in my room.

This one was clean. Too clean. Stark white walls and minimalist furniture. The white curtains were drawn back, letting in the soft morning light, which glinted off the polished surfaces, making the room feel almost sterile. This must be Alex's room.

He had saved me last night, so he must have brought me here. The idea made something in me clench-shame, gratitude, fear, all tangled together.

I lay still, heart thrumming, trying to breathe through the ache in my chest. It wasn't just mental. It was physical-like grief had settled between my ribs and made a home there.

I curled into the oversized hoodie I was still wearing. Alex's? Maybe. It smelled like him-clean and cold.

Tears slipped into the pillow before I could stop them. I wanted to scream. Loud. Shatter the silence. Maybe that would help.

But I couldn't.

I wanted to smile, laugh it off, pretend it didn't matter.

But the muscles in my face felt frozen.

I wanted to slam my head into the wall, to feel something different, something outside my skin.

But I couldn't.

Because dying would be too easy. Chase said that once. That I didn't deserve an escape like that.

Isn't it strange? We only see our outsides, yet all the real damage happens inside.

My heart hurt so much. The pain was within, but I could also feel my chest burning physically, a heavy, suffocating sensation.

Still lost in my grief, the sudden sound of a shower turning off jolted me. I sat up hastily, my back resting against the soft white headboard of the bed, my eyes fixed on the white bathroom door, awaiting whoever was about to step out. My heart gave a frantic flutter.

The golden doorknob twisted.

Alex stepped out, towel in hand, drying his tousled hair. His torso was bare, droplets of water trailing down hard lines of muscle, disappearing beneath low-hanging grey sweatpants.

He looked unfairly perfect, like he was carved just to ruin me. For a second, I forgot to breathe.

Then his eyes met mine.

"Enjoying the show?" His voice was sharp, clipped, a predator's amusement in the tone.

I blinked, guilty, yanking my gaze away. "I wasn't- I'm sorry."

A muscle ticked in his jaw. He looked like he wanted to say something more but didn't.

Instead, he muttered, "Come downstairs when you're ready," and turned, disappearing through the doorway.

His tone hadn't been cruel exactly. But it wasn't kind either. Cold. Controlled. Like everything in him was locked behind a steel door.

I swung my legs off the bed. The room spun slightly. I waited until the dizziness passed, then stepped into the hallway.

The house was massive. Endless rooms. A grand staircase. Everything whispered wealth. I wondered how anyone lived in a place this big.

How could I possibly find him?.

I followed my instincts and descended the staircase. At the bottom, I bumped into a girl around my age, dressed in a crisp white uniform, carrying a stack of fresh towels. She looked like staff.

How rich are these people?

She was petite, pale with short brown hair and large brown eyes-beautiful in a porcelain-doll way.

"Hi" I said with a polite smile. "Alex asked me to meet him downstairs. Could you tell me where to go?"

She shot me a puzzled look, her brow furrowing. And you are?." Her tone was curt, suspicious.

"Lily. He brought me here last night." I said, grimacing as the events of last night replayed in my head, a painful montage.

Her face changed and her lips twitched into a tight, mocking smile. "Of course he did."

Something cold and possessive flashed in her eyes.

Before I could respond, she added, "Let me guess, you're one of those charity cases he picks up when he's feeling guilty?" Her gaze was a sneer.

I stiffened, the heat rising to my face."I just need to know where the dining room is." My tone was flat, betraying nothing.

She stepped forward, closing the space between us, voice dropping to a low intimate hiss."I know your type. You think just because he brought you here, you're special. You're not. You're just next."

I stared at her. Her voice wasn't just mean-it was personal. Too personal. Still I kept my face blank. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction. "Where can I find him?."

"Straight ahead, then left," she said sweetly with a smug then leaned in. "And maybe skip the pancakes. He prefers them thinner." Her eyes flicked to my frame, a silent, cruel judgment

My heart thudded.

I walked away without another word.

The dining room looked like a scene from a billionaire magazine-huge table, ridiculous food spread, floor-to-ceiling windows.

Alex sat at the head, scrolling through his phone like he hadn't just ruined my entire perception of him.

I hovered in the doorway suddenly unwilling to enter this opulent trap, until he glanced up. His eyes, keen and unsettling, fixed on me. "You're late," he said simply, no warmth.

"You didn't give me a time," I shot back before I could stop myself., the defiance a raw, surprising spark.

He raised an eyebrow a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze "Feisty today."

"I just want to leave." The words were barely a whisper, a desperate plea.

He didn't respond. Instead, he stood, walked over, and pulled out the chair beside him.

"Sit."The command hung in the air,

"I said I want to leave." I tried again, a feeble protest.

"I heard you," He said coolly, his voice a low rumble of power. "Sit anyway."

I sat, mostly because arguing with him felt like trying to punch a stone wall.

Silence stretched between us, thick and charged with unspoken things.

Then, his hand reached out. Fingers brushed a strand of hair from my cheek, lingering a second too long.

I froze, every nerve ending screaming.

The gentleness was so sudden, confused me, threw my carefully constructed walls into disarray.It wasn't the way you touched someone you hated. It was a calculated caress.

"Are you okay?" he asked, voice lower now. Not cold. Not warm. Careful.

I blinked. "You're asking me that now?"

Something flickered in his eyes and then they dropped. "Just eat something."

The shift in him, it wasn't an accident. He was trying not to show something. But it was there. Underneath.

"I'm not hungry."

His jaw flexed. "I didn't ask."

His voice was back to steel again. Like he hated himself for even softening.

I picked up a fork just to get him to shut up. The pancake was absurdly good. I tried not to react, but my eyes might've fluttered. Just a little.

He noticed. Of course.

A flicker of something passed over his face-something smug and soft and unspoken, a possessive satisfaction.

And then, just like that, it vanished. replaced by an impassive mask.

"Get up," he said suddenly, standing.

"What now?" I asked, caught off guard by the abrupt dismissal.

"I'm taking you home."

The mood shift gave me whiplash, but I followed, head down.

Outside, the car was a sleek black machine that probably cost more than my future. We got in. He didn't speak. Neither did I.

The silence was thick. But not empty. Just full of all the things neither of us dared say

***

When the car finally stopped, I jolted awake, my heart leaping.

My house. I never told him the address. I didn't ask how he knew. The realization slid down my spine, cold and unnerving: he knew more than I thought. He always did.

"Thanks," I mumbled, getting out fast, desperate to escape the enclosed space, the weight of his presence.

I didn't look back.

**

As I walked into the living room, the air was tense. Dad and Chase were seated on the couch. Sitting opposite them was a man who looked to be the same age as my father. He had wavy brown hair mixed with some distinguished grey, a tall, built body covered in a very expensive suit. He was very handsome, exuding an air of power and wealth. Behind him stood two huge men covered in tattoos. They appeared to be bodyguards. The man looked incredibly wealthy.

"Welcome, princess," my dad spoke up, a forced cheerfulness in his voice. "I have something to tell you. Promise me that you won't freak out and you would do this for me."

Freak out? Great. That was practically an instruction.

"Dad, just get it over with," Chase said, giving us a bored look, his presence a dark cloud in the room.

Dad smiled awkwardly, a nervous twitch at the corner of his lips. "Meet your father-in-law."

What?!" The word ripped from me. My mind reeled, refusing to process.

"You're getting married," He added, looking away, avoiding my eyes.

"WHY AND TO WHOM?!" I cried out, my voice raw and breaking , a desperate, frantic plea.

Just then, the front door opened, Alex strolled in like he belonged there, utterly unfazed. Like this wasn't completely insane.

I wonder why he is here. He should have left a while ago.

"Father," He said, his voice deep, deferential, addressing the man on the couch.

The man stood, and they shared a firm handshake, a silent acknowledgment of their bond. Now that they were both together, I could clearly see the resemblance. Alex was the spitting image of his father, if not more handsome, with the same powerful presence.

WAIT. IF THIS MAN IS MY ALLEGED FATHER-IN-LAW, THAT MEANS...

"Now that my son is here," The man said, smiling a slow, predatory grin that mirrored Alex's, making my blood run cold. "Lily, meet your husband-to-be. The both of you are getting married in a few weeks."

"WHAT!!!!!" Alex and I screamed in unison. The word tore from our throats in a shocked, horrified echo that filled the silent, suddenly suffocating room.

I looked at him. He looked at me.

And for the first time since last night, he looked just as trapped as I felt. But maybe, just maybe, his trap was also mine.