Chapter 3 03

Chapter 03

Don't even get me started on the time he announced that he had been dating my slutty friend from high school. Eleven months that marriage lasted, and she even had the audacity to request that I call her "mum." My father has a thing for younger women, and I'm pretty sure that he can find some underaged heiress to woo. So why the bloody hell do I have to marry some strange guy? He's probably just like my father-ready to kidnap me from my bunk bed while I'm sleeping like some creep.

Wait on... there's going to be a man in this marriage, right? Holy shit, I am going to have to marry a stranger. The thought itself jolts me back to the present.

What the hell has my father gotten me into?

Sasha's POV

I stare at my father in anger, the shock finally starting to wear off as I consider the fact that I have to marry a complete and utter stranger. What on earth had gotten into him? To be fair, I can't say, "Who is he, and where did he take my father?" because this is totally something my father would do for the advancement of his company. I just never thought I would see the day that he would actually consider me his next move.

"You can't be serious. I mean, you are actually going to force me to marry some stranger on the off chance that it will help you steal their company? I mean seriously, Dad, I'm not doing-"

"You will do what you are told, Sasha. I don't care what you think about this," my father interrupts, cutting off my rant with that icy tone he knows always gets under my skin.

I swallow my frustration, trying to control the urge to scream at him. It's useless anyway; his mind is made up. He's a stubborn, power-hungry man, and I've never been more afraid of him than I am now.

"He's name is Christian Matheson, and he is the son of the current CEO. He's 27 years old, the oldest of three siblings, and he owns a nightclub downtown. There, he's no longer a stranger to you," my father states clearly, proud of diminishing my argument.

I blink, stunned. My brain is scrambling to process his words, but none of it makes any sense. "Christian Matheson," I repeat, tasting the name as though it might help it sink in.

He's serious. Like, seriously serious. My father isn't bluffing. He's not going to back down on this. Oh my god, I'm actually screwed.

Taking a deep breath, I sit up straighter in my seat to compose myself. I need to remain calm, to think clearly. But my stomach is in knots, and my fingers are trembling slightly as I grip the armrests of the chair.

I look up at my father, whose sharp gaze is locked onto mine. He's waiting for me to bend, to break. He expects obedience. But I am his daughter, and there's no way in hell I'm doing this without a fight. I don't care if he's trying to control my life; this is my future we're talking about.

"Father, I know that this is something you want, but there had to be another way to achieve this. I mean, it's me giving away my life! I don't want to marry someone I've never met. I want to find someone that means something to me, someone I love, and then maybe consider marriage. I refuse to marry him for you. I don't care what you say," I say, my voice firm and unwavering as I stare directly into my father's eyes.

I can see the flicker of annoyance in his gaze, but he doesn't back down. He's waiting for me to break, waiting for me to show weakness. But I won't give him that satisfaction.

He doesn't even flinch at my words. Instead, he just leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, his expression cold and calculating. He's probably already planning how he's going to break me, how he's going to force me into this marriage no matter what I say.

"Sasha, you're not in a position to argue with me," he says in a voice so devoid of emotion it sends a chill through my veins. "You will marry Christian Matheson, or you will lose everything."

The words hit me like a slap to the face. The sudden weight of his ultimatum presses down on me, and for a moment, I can't breathe. I just stare at him, unsure how to respond. How could he be so cruel?

"Then say goodbye to your inheritance," my father continues, his tone dismissive as though it's a mere trifle. "Your perfect little life will come to an end the moment you refuse me. No inheritance. No CEO position. Nothing. Do not think for a second that I'm not serious, because you will marry this man whether you want to or not."

The finality in his voice is deafening. My heart is pounding in my chest, and the room feels as though it's closing in on me. I can't breathe. I can't think.

I'm left standing there, mouth agape, no response coming to mind. This isn't happening. This can't be happening.

I feel my anger surging, rising up like a tidal wave. How dare he? How dare he use my future, my happiness, as a pawn in his game for power?

But I know there's no point in arguing anymore. This is my life now. This is what he's decided for me. The man I thought I knew-the one who had always been my protector, my guiding force-is now my captor.

At some point during his speech, I've jumped out of my seat in fury, my fists clenched so tightly that my nails dig into my palms. But it's too late for protests. I can feel the silence between us thickening, suffocating me.

"Do not think you have any choice here, Sasha," my father says, his voice colder than ever. "This marriage will happen. If you want to keep your life as you know it, you will do as I say."

My silence is the only answer I can give him.

My father takes a long pause, watching me carefully, as though he's waiting for me to crumble. But I won't. I refuse to give him the satisfaction.

Without waiting for me to respond, he dismisses me with a flick of his hand.

"Tomorrow. My office. Ten o'clock. Be there, Sasha. Or so help you God."

The threat lingers in the air like poison, and I feel it seep into my very bones.

With a final, chilling glance, he turns away, already moving on to his next task. Like nothing has happened. Like he hasn't just upended my entire life.

I stand there, frozen in place, feeling the weight of his words crash down on me. It's like I'm suffocating in my own skin.