The Woman He Was Never Meant To Love

SEBASTIAN'S POV I liked silence. The kind that wrapped around my office like armor. No buzzing phones, no whining board members, no small talk-just the weight of power in every ticking second. From here, the city looked tame. Tiny. Like a toy I could break and rebuild at will. HIS CABIN My cabin-if you could even call it that- was less of an office and more of a throne room. Black marble floors. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls. A sleek obsidian desk that held more secrets than files. The scent of leather and quiet dominance in the air. I didn't let people barge in. Ever. So when the door opened without a knock, I didn't have to look up to know who it was. The only man alive who didn't need permission to enter my world. Ezra Blake. Grandfather. "Thought you hated this place," I said, not turning. "Too cold, too modern, too far above your empire of cigars and scotch." His chuckle was dry. "I still hate it." "So why are you here?" I asked, still watching the skyline. The sound of his cane tapped across the marble once, twice, then silence. He didn't answer right away. When I finally turned to face him, his eyes were already on me. That look-the one that always meant trouble. "You're getting married." Just like that. No warning. No buildup. I stared at him for a second. Let the words sink in. He wasn't joking. "To whom?" I asked, voice flat. "Elena Brooks." My brow twitched. The name meant nothing. "Victor's daughter," he clarified. "The other one." I remembered Seraphina. The showpiece. The brat is always in the media. But this wasn't her. "She's quiet. Doesn't speak unless spoken to. Out of the spotlight. A ghost." A strategic move then. Of course. "And why her?" "Because her father owes me. Because she's expendable. And because Seraphina's too soft for this family," he said, eyes sharp. "But most importantly, because I said so." There it was. The leash. I could've refused. I had the power, the name. But I wasn't raised to rebel. I was raised to obey. If Ezra Blake wanted me to marry a stranger with no voice, no face, and no choice... then I would. Without flinching. "Fine," I said simply. He smiled. "Knew you'd be reasonable." I didn't smile back. This wasn't about love. It was business. But for the first time in a long time, something itched beneath my skin. A whisper in the back of my mind I couldn't shake. Who the hell is Elena Brooks? And why the fuck did I feel like this was the beginning of something I wouldn't be able to control? That Evening - Blake Estate, Private Lounge "You don't like the wine?" I leaned back on the velvet couch, legs crossed, one brow raised. The glass of vintage red was untouched in my hand. My stare locked on the man across from me, the new financial advisor Grandfather insisted I meet. Young. Overconfident. Breathing too loudly. He'd corrected me earlier. Said I "misread a percentage." Me. I hadn't said a word back then. Just smiled. Now? Now it was my turn. "I was told this vintage was your favorite," he said nervously, gesturing to the bottle he brought like a peace offering. I swirled the wine slowly. "It is. Just not when it's served by amateurs." His smile twitched. He thought I was joking. I wasn't. "You know," I continued, tone smooth like poison in silk, "I always find it fascinating when people try to impress me with money... in my house... while working for me." He blinked. I sipped the wine, finally. Let the silence linger. Then I set the glass down as it offended me. "Do you play chess?" I asked suddenly. "Uh, yeah. A bit." "Let's play." A butler appeared without being called, trained that way. The board was set in under a minute. Marble and gold. Custom, of course. He moved first. I watched him struggle with strategy. Saw the way his fingers hesitated before every move. He thought it was about the game. It wasn't. Ten minutes in, I already had him cornered. "I read your credentials," I said casually, as I took his knight. "Impressive on paper. Mediocre in presence." He flushed. "I-" "You wore a fake Rolex to a meeting with Blake. If you're going to lie, at least commit." He stopped mid-move. I gave him a cold smile. "Checkmate." I hadn't even looked down at the board. He stood abruptly, muttering something about getting back to work. "Leave the bottle," I said, just as he turned. "It's the only good thing you brought tonight." He left in silence. I reclined in my chair, swirling the wine again. Didn't take another sip. It wasn't about the drink. It was about the message. I don't forgive slights. Not even small ones. I file them away. One by one. Brick by brick. Until I have enough to build your ruin. I didn't move for a moment after he left. Just listened to the faint sound of his footsteps fading down the hall... and then the front door clicking shut. Then, slowly, I pulled out my phone. One tap. One call. "Kade," I said, voice smooth and deadly. "Yes, sir?" "The financial advisor. Freeze his accounts. All of them. I want him to be unable to buy a fucking candy bar without asking his mother for pocket change." A pause on the other end. Then a chuckle. "Understood." "And Kade?" "Yes?" "Find out where he parked." Another beat of silence. "...You want the car?" "No. Just the tires. Slashed, not too deep. I want him to drive a bit first. Let the betrayal sink in before the blowout." A low whistle. "Anything else, boss?" "Make sure he finds out it was me," I said, sipping the wine again. "But not through words. Through suffering." Click. I leaned back again, satisfied. See, I don't raise my voice. I don't throw tantrums. I destroy you like a gentleman with silence, a smile, and paperwork that makes you choke on your next breath. Petty? No, sweetheart. Strategic cruelty. And I never waste it on the undeserving. I stared into the glass in my hand. The wine had gone warm. Elena. Her name rolled through my mind like smoke-soft, almost fragile. Like the silk lining of a noose. I hadn't thought about her again after Grandfather left the office. At least, I pretended not to. But now? I couldn't stop thinking. A marriage. Arranged. Decided. Like a deal. Like a merger. Like, I didn't get a say, because I didn't. And that should've pissed me off. Should've. But instead... something coiled in my gut. Tight. Heavy. Familiar. Instinct. The same one I get before a storm hits. The same one I felt the night I shot my first bullet and didn't blink. Something's coming. Something I can't control. I've had women before. Beautiful. Dangerous. Clingy. Some are just there for a taste of the Blake name. None stayed. None were allowed to. Because no one ever meant anything. But now? Now I'm being handed a girl whose name tastes like secrets, and whose face I haven't even seen. And something in me whispers-she's not like the others. This isn't just marriage. This is war, dressed in lace. And I don't know why... ...but I already know-I won't win this one clean. ELENA'S POV My hands shook as I picked up the shards of the broken vase I'd knocked over earlier. I hadn't even noticed it falling... not when Father said those words. Marriage. Like I was being traded. Like I was a problem he could finally be rid of. I stared at the blood on my palm, thin lines from the porcelain cuts. But it didn't sting half as much as his voice had. I'd never even seen the man I was supposed to marry. And now I was being packaged up like a gift, a problem sent away in silk and silence. I tried to blink the tears away when the door creaked open without a knock. Of course. "Cleaning up after another one of your dramatic meltdowns?" Seraphina's voice slid through the room like oil-smooth, venomous, and impossible to ignore. I didn't answer. I didn't look at her. She strutted in anyway, perfume trailing behind her like a warning. Hair curled to perfection. Lips painted in the same shade of red she wore when she wanted attention. She always wanted attention. "Poor little Elena," she cooed mockingly. "You should be grateful, you know? Father could've sold you off to someone twice his age. But instead, you get a rich, powerful husband. You'll be somebody, finally. Not just the house ghost." I pressed the glass into the dustbin, hands trembling. "You're just jealous I'll still be here. The face of the Brookss. The one who actually matters." She walked behind me, fingers trailing across the top of my dresser, knocking over my only bottle of perfume. It shattered. "Oops," she said sweetly. My jaw clenched. "You'll love being a wife, Elena. Quiet. Obedient. Pretty little thing locked in a golden cage. Oh wait-" she paused, leaning close to my ear, "you've already been practicing that your whole life." I flinched. She laughed. "You should wear something black to the engagement dinner," Seraphina whispered with a smirk. "Might as well mourn your freedom properly." She walked out without another word. The silence that followed was louder than her laughter. I sat down on the floor, knees pulled to my chest, glass still in my hands, and whispered to myself- "This is just the beginning, isn't it?"