By morning, Elina's decision was set in stone. She neither ate nor spoke. Rage simmered beneath her skin, propelling her forward.
She descended the stairs, each footfall striking the marble with purpose. Her parents, seated at the breakfast table, looked up in surprise.
"Elina," her mother called, setting down her coffee cup. "Where are you going dressed like that?"
Her father's gaze narrowed. "You're not leaving the house without an explanation."
But Elina didn't stop. She didn't even glance their way. "I'm meeting a friend," she said flatly, brushing past the table.
Isabella stood from her chair. "You can meet your friends here. You don't just walk out without permission."
"I'm not asking for permission," Elina muttered under her breath, her hand already on the front door.
And then she was gone—out the door, down the steps, her pulse pounding with a new kind of resolve.
Outside, she found Marco near the cars, going over a manifest with a junior staffer.
"Marco," she said curtly.
He turned immediately, adjusting his stance with respectful attentiveness. "Miss Castellano."
"I need the address to Adrian Blackwood's office. Now."
He hesitated for a split second. "Your father—"
"My father is not the one asking. I am." Her tone left no room for argument.
Marco gave a tight nod. "Understood." He pulled out his phone, tapped a few times, then looked up. "I've sent the address to your phone, Miss Castellano."
Elina checked her phone, saw the message, then looked up at him. "Thank you." Her voice was calm but firm. "This doesn't go beyond us. My father doesn't need to know."
There was no hesitation in her voice—just a clear directive, delivered like someone used to being obeyed.
Marco gave a short nod, his expression unreadable. "Understood."
After a moment's pause, Marco hesitated before asking, "Shall I arrange for a driver, Miss Castellano?"
Elina didn't even look back. "No," she said curtly, already moving.
Without another word, she stepped out into the driveway, her heels clicking against the stone as she approached her car. The sleek white vehicle gleamed under the morning sun.
She slid into the driver's seat, slammed the door shut, and started the engine with a sharp twist of the key. A second later, the tyres screeched against the gravel as she sped out of the estate gates, leaving behind the mansion, the expectations, and the weight of everyone trying to control her.
Today, she wasn't running anymore. She was marching into war—on her own terms.
________________________________________
The drive to Adrian Blackwood's office was a blur. Her hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white with fury. Every traffic light, every turn, every second that passed only fuelled the fire inside her. She wasn't nervous—she was focused. Controlled. Determined to make him understand that this marriage—this farce—would never happen.
Elina pulled up outside the towering glass building in the heart of the city, a symbol of power and wealth that gleamed beneath the sun. She stepped out of the car with the kind of confidence that turned heads—her footsteps echoed sharply against the polished floor as she strode through the entrance.
Inside, the lobby was sleek and cold—marble and chrome—the very definition of calculated elegance. She made her way to the reception desk, her expression unreadable.
"I'm here to see Adrian Blackwood," she said, her tone cool and clipped.
The receptionist, a young woman in a tailored navy blazer, blinked and straightened in her seat. "Mr Blackwood is currently in a meeting. Do you have an appointment, Miss...?"
"Elina Castellano," she answered, folding her arms. "And no, I don't."
The receptionist hesitated, clearly weighing whether to push back. But there was something in Elina's eyes that made her think twice. Still, protocol demanded a measure of delay. "Would you mind waiting? It shouldn't be long."
Elina nodded stiffly. "Fine."
She took a seat near the floor-to-ceiling windows, arms crossed, one leg bouncing ever so slightly—a single tremor betraying the storm inside her. She watched the city move beyond the glass, people walking with purpose, oblivious to the chaos about to unfold.
Twenty-five minutes passed in silence. The receptionist glanced at her once or twice, as if half-expecting her to lose her patience and storm in. But Elina remained still, her gaze fixed forward like a lioness waiting for the cage door to open.
Finally, the receptionist stood and approached her. "Mr Blackwood is available now. Please, follow me."
Elina rose without a word.
As they walked down the quiet hallway, each step brought her closer to the man at the centre of it all—the one her parents had chosen. The one who thought he could simply claim her. The one she was about to face.
She didn't know what would happen next. But she knew one thing:
She wasn't leaving without being heard.
________________________________________
The door clicked open, and the receptionist stepped aside to let Elina through.
Adrian's office was just as she'd imagined—minimalist, sharp-edged, all dark wood and glass. A place built for power. He sat behind a wide desk, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, scrolling through something on his tablet. He didn't even glance up right away.
"Elina Castellano," he said smoothly, as though her arrival were part of the day's schedule. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
She didn't sit. She didn't smile. She stood tall, arms stiff at her sides, fire in her voice. "You need to tell my father you've changed your mind. This marriage isn't happening."
Adrian finally looked up, his gaze settling on her like a predator sizing up its prey. Calm. Amused. Unbothered. "I assure you, I have no intention of doing that."
Elina's jaw tightened. "What the hell is wrong with you? I acted like a complete disaster. I made sure every other suitor walked away. But you—" She took a step closer. "You said yes. Why?"
He leaned back in his chair, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Because you're not like the rest. You're not predictable. And frankly…" His gaze travelled over her with slow calculation. "I find you fascinating."
Her fists clenched. "You think it's flattering? That I'm different? I'm not some novelty for you to dissect, Adrian. I'm not a mystery to keep you entertained while you play god with my life."
"No," he said, voice low, unhurried. "You're far more than that." He paused, eyes narrowing. "But make no mistake, Elina—you walked into my world. And in my world, what's mine... stays mine. You belong to me now."
________________________________________