Mia's Point of View
The moment I looked into his eyes, it was like being hit by a thunderstorm. They were so dark, so cold, that I could feel them pierce right through me. His gaze was intense, unwavering, like he was studying every detail of my existence. I flinched and quickly lowered my eyes, scanning the floor, desperate to avoid the weight of his stare.
How can someone be this handsome and yet have eyes so devoid of warmth? How could anyone have eyes that could freeze a person in place? The more I thought about it, the more I wondered: Is he even human?
I couldn't help but think about his eyes. They were dark pools, deep and suffocating, as though they held secrets too dangerous for anyone to uncover. I had to shake myself out of my daze. What was wrong with me? Why was I so mesmerized by someone who radiated nothing but power and coldness?
Suddenly, I heard the sound of footsteps retreating. I dared a quick glance up, just in time to see him standing by the window, his back to us. His arms were crossed tightly behind him, and his posture was almost military, as if he were used to being in control of everything around him.
I took in his appearance—his build was imposing, like that of a warrior, but it was the gold around his neck and wrists that caught my attention. He wore an abundance of gold, a heavy, glittering weight that seemed to be a part of him, making him look even more untouchable.
Who is this man? What is he to my father?
Before I could dive deeper into my thoughts, a voice cut through the room—sharp, cold, and demanding. "You're late, Josh!"
I froze. The voice sounded so authoritative, so full of power. Could it really belong to the man in front of me? The same man whose cold eyes had almost paralyzed me just moments ago? I glanced up at him again, and the realization hit me hard. It is him.
My father, Josh, seemed unfazed by the harsh tone in the man's voice. He bowed his head slightly, his entire demeanor subservient. "So sorry, my lord. Something came up, and I was delayed for a while."
Lord?
The word echoed in my mind, and my brow furrowed in confusion. Who was this man that my father—someone who had never shown respect to anyone—would refer to as "lord"? Was he a prince? A king? What kind of power did he wield? And more importantly, why was I here, witnessing this strange interaction?
I couldn't keep the questions at bay. Why couldn't anyone just explain things to me? Why was I left in the dark about everything that was happening?
The man, still facing the window, didn't respond immediately. Instead, he gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Leave."
Josh didn't hesitate for a second. He turned immediately, and without looking at me, walked toward the door. I wanted to follow him, wanted to grab him and demand answers, but just as I took a step, the man's voice stopped me cold.
"And where do you think you're going?" His voice was low, but it sent a chill down my spine.
I turned around, my heart pounding in my chest. Was he talking to me? I stared at him, trying to make sense of the situation. He asked us to leave. Wasn't that what we were doing?
"I asked Josh to leave, not you!" His words came out with a sneer, venomous and sharp.
I flinched, my entire body going rigid. His words didn't just stop me—they rattled me. I couldn't understand why he would single me out like this.
"Huh? Not me? Why?" I stuttered, my voice barely above a whisper. I looked at my father, hoping he would provide an answer. But he didn't meet my eyes. He couldn't. His face was hard, expressionless.
What was happening? Why didn't he look at me?
The man—Lord Bryan—took a slow step toward us. His eyes never left me, and I felt the weight of his gaze like a physical force pressing down on me. "Didn't you tell her she now belongs to me?" he asked, his voice so cold and matter-of-fact that I felt my stomach drop.
My father's face paled. "I… I haven't, Lord. There wasn't enough time to do that," he mumbled.
Time? What time? What was going on?
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Belongs to him?"
My heart began to race, and I felt my legs shake. Was this a joke? Was my father joking?
But when I looked into my father's eyes, there was no trace of humor—only resignation. And fear.
"Dad, what's going on?" I cried out, my voice breaking. "What does he mean by I belong to him? What does that even mean?" I wanted answers, but my father refused to meet my gaze.
"You heard right, Mia," my father's voice was flat, emotionless. "Your ears weren't deceiving you. You now belong to Lord Bryan, and you don't have a place in my house anymore. This is where you belong now, Mia."
I felt as though the world had just shattered beneath my feet. I stood there, frozen, unable to move. This wasn't real. This couldn't be happening. My father—my own father—had just given me away.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to run after him, beg him to take me back, to say it was all a mistake. But my body wouldn't move. The words had stunned me into silence.
Without another glance in my direction, my father turned and walked out of the room.
I was left standing there, in the cold, with the stranger who had just claimed me as his.
I didn't even know what to say anymore.
My feet were rooted to the ground, my body paralyzed. I didn't know what to do. Didn't know what to think.
Suddenly, I felt his presence behind me. It was like a storm approaching, and I didn't have the strength to fight it.
He placed a hand around my waist, and my body jerked in response. I spun around, instinctively, and before I could even think, my palm had slapped across his flawless cheek.
I couldn't even register what was happening. His bloodshot eyes stared at me, full of fury and something darker. I flinched back, suddenly terrified of the man I had just slapped.
Mrs. Johnson Chapman's Pov
I sat in the restaurant, my fingers tapping anxiously on the table as I waited for Mr. David to arrive. The tension in the air was thick, and I could feel the weight of what I was about to hear hanging over me like a dark cloud.
As he walked toward my table, I stood up with a bright smile, trying to hide the nervousness I felt inside.
"Welcome, Mr. David," I greeted, shaking his hand firmly.
"Thanks, Mrs. Johnson," he replied with a polite smile, and we both took our seats.
"Do you want to place an order? Anything to drink?" I asked, gesturing toward the waiter.
"No, no, Mrs. Johnson. I'm fine. Let's get down to business."
I nodded, my heart sinking. I knew this wasn't going to be easy.
Mr. David pulled out a file from his bag and placed it in front of me. I could feel the weight of the papers in my hands as I opened it, my fingers trembling.
"This is it." I whispered, my voice shaking.
"If he doesn't get married, he won't inherit the CHAP'S company?" I asked, incredulously.
Mr. David nodded grimly. "That's right, Mrs. Johnson. If Bryan doesn't marry soon, he'll lose the company to Dave."
I slammed my hand on the table in anger. How dare my husband make such a decision about Bryan's life?
"How could he do this? I won't let this happen!" I gritted my teeth, my fist clenched tightly.
Mr. David's eyes met mine with understanding. "I don't want that either, Mrs. Johnson. Dave is not fit to inherit the company."
I dug into my handbag, pulling out a wad of cash and passing it over to him.
"Thank you for telling me, Mr. David. I appreciate your help," I said, shaking his hand before standing up and walking out of the restaurant.
As I got into my car, I tried calling Bryan, but the line wouldn't connect. Frustrated, I started the engine and drove off.