Chapter 3

Nara

I found myself standing outside Le Château — one of the most extravagant, high-end restaurants in the city. Naturally, it belonged to the Golden Empire. Where else would a disaster like this unfold?

I took a deep breath, smoothing down my dress and trying to calm the storm raging in my chest before pushing the door open and walking inside.

The restaurant was beautiful, with soft lights, elegant tables, and gentle music playing in the background. The walls glittered, and everything felt calm and expensive.

No matter how I looked at it… I didn’t belong here. But this wasn’t about me. This was for my father. If saving his life and the company meant selling my soul to the devil in designer shoes, so be it.

I looked ahead — and there he was.

It was impossible not to notice him. He sat at a round table like he owned the city — brownish perfect messy hair. sharp blue eyes, and a navy-blue top with black jeans. Casual, yet he looked like a god who didn’t belong among the rest of us.

Why did he have to be so disgustingly good-looking? It wasn’t fair. That face shouldn’t belong to a jerk like him.

As I made my way to the table, my heart was pounding so hard I was convinced he’d hear it from where he was sitting. Jesus, please let him not recognize me, I prayed in my head.

I reached the table, cleared my throat, and said in the most professional voice I could fake, “Mr. Nick Gold, I assume?”

He didn’t even look up. Just waved a hand toward the empty seat across from him, his face buried in his phone like I wasn’t even there.

I pulled out the chair and sat down.

Minutes passed. Nothing. He just kept texting and smiling at his screen like an idiot, completely ignoring me. And me? I just sat there, seething in silence, reminding myself over and over — I’m doing this for Dad. I’m doing this for Dad.

I noticed the ring on his finger. My stomach twisted. I took a deep breath. Nara, don’t react. Focus. You have to save your father’s life.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally slid his phone into his pocket and looked up.

“Jesus!” he yelped, clutching his chest like I was a ghost. “What the fuck are you doing here?!”

As if realizing himself, he immediately dropped his hand behind his back, trying to hide the ring.

“Are you stalking me or something? Hey — lady, I bought this ring with my own money, fair and square! So you better get up and leave before I call security on you again.”

I scoffed internally. I guess he remembers me.

But I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction. I flashed my most charming, fake-as-hell smile and said, “My name’s Nara Harrison.” I stretched my hand out for a handshake.

He didn’t take it.

“What did you say your name was?” he asked, his face twisting into a mock smile. “Wait… you’re John Harrison’s daughter?”

“Yes,” I replied, withdrawing my hand.

And just like that, he burst out laughing. Loudly. So loud people started turning to look at our table.

“I can’t believe this!” he pointed at me, still laughing. “Tell me you’re joking right now.”

I didn’t say a word. Just sat there stiff and quiet, clenching my fists under the table to stop myself from yanking out those perfect hair on his head.

“Wait, isn’t this rich? Weren’t you the one last night going on about your perfect boyfriend? What happened, sweetheart? He dump your sorry ass and toss the ring back at you?”

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. “Can we just get to the reason we’re here?” I said as evenly as possible.

“Hold up,” he said, wiping a tear that had escaped from laughing so hard. “Before anything else — I demand an apology.”

“What?” I blinked.

“An apology,” he repeated, leaning back with his arms folded. “You insulted me yesterday. Told me your boyfriend was better than me. Now, you’re gonna apologize — properly. Or this whole marriage deal’s off.”

“You must be out of your damn mind,” I spat, my face already burning with anger.

“Nope,” he smirked. “Not budging. Get down on your knees, apologize, and say I’m a hundred times better than all your little boyfriends put together.”

“I will not.”

“Then this meeting’s over,” he said, starting to get up.

I slammed my hand on the table. “What about you? You need me too.”

He sat back down slowly, raising a brow. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I heard you’re in big trouble. That your position in the company isn’t secure because you… what was it again? Slept with a married woman? The wife of a senator, no less. Ain’t you ashamed? You need this marriage to clean up your image.”

He chuckled darkly. “You think you can use that against me? First — that rumor’s a lie. And second — I can replace you in a second. Any girl would kill for this spot. So… kneel, or apologize.”

“I don’t kneel to anyone. You’re not my God.”

“Then apologize. Properly.”

He was really pushing it. Well… better than kneeling with everyone watching.

I plastered the fakest, sweetest smile I could muster. “I’m sorry, Nick Gold. I was out of line yesterday. You are, without a doubt, a hundred times better than all my boyfriends combined… and you have a heart of gold. Please accept my sincere apology.”

He grinned, clearly satisfied with himself. “Now you’re talking. Good. Let’s get to the real reason we’re here. We’re getting married in a few weeks, but before that, you’ll need to do some media rounds.”

Media rounds? I raised a brow.

“What do you mean by that?” I asked.

He rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed I dared to interrupt him. “You didn’t let me finish. The media round is very important. In fact, this is the only reason I’m even considering this marriage at all.” He gave me a smug look, like he expected me to be grateful.

“You’ll be going on talk shows, radio stations, even podcasts — doing interviews. The main aim is to tell the world how your husband-to-be is the most amazing man you’ve ever met. And how you believe, without a shadow of a doubt, that I’m not the type to sleep with someone else’s wife, especially a woman old enough to be my mother, and how we are so deeply in love it makes you sick.”

He paused, leaning closer. “Are you even understanding all I’m saying? Or should I repeat it slowly so you can keep up?”

Now he thinks I’m stupid. Classic. I scoffed internally.

“Of course not,” I replied, forcing a polite smile. “I understand everything you’re saying. Kindly, go on.”

“Good. Another thing — your image.” He eyed me up and down like I was some charity case. “You need to work on it. That gutter behavior you displayed last night at the store? Unacceptable. From now on, your personality must reflect grace and sophistication… like Jane.”

Who the hell is Jane? I wondered, though a nasty suspicion told me exactly who.

“As you can see,” he continued, gesturing to himself like some third-rate celebrity, “I’m a public figure. My image is everything. I can’t have a razz, loud-mouthed wife by my side.”

He’s not just arrogant — he’s a walking billboard for narcissism. I swear, after this, my father owes me his damn life.

He kept yapping, blah blah blah about his precious image, like the world hadn’t had enough clowns already. The most ironic part? He’s the one who desperately needs an image cleansing. What a nerve.

He snapped his fingers in my face. “Are you still with me?”

“Of course,” I lied smoothly, nodding like a robot on autopilot.

“Good,” he continued. “You should maintain this attitude. Obey everything I say. If I ask you to stop breathing, you stop.”

I forced a smile, but inside I was burning. This man really thought he was my savior and I was his to command. Let him enjoy his little power trip now — the moment my father’s life is safe and that ring’s on my finger, we’ll see who controls who.

“You’ll attend any event I deem necessary and maintain a certain public image. No excuses.”

“Of course. Anything you say,” I replied sweetly.

Truthfully, all I could think about was my father. I must save his life. Whatever it takes.

“And I know you’re dying to ask,” he said smugly. “Go on, ask.”

“Ask what?” I shot back, feigning confusion.

He held up his ring. “I know you’ve been curious who I gave this to.”

“The Senator’s wife,” I quipped just to spite him.

He rolled his eyes. “You think you’re funny.”

I didn’t bother replying.

“Well, for your information, I gave it to Jane. And she absolutely loved it.” His face lit up like a little boy who just got a new toy. “Jane is my girlfriend, if you must know.”

Of course she is. Figures.

“Why didn’t you marry her instead, since you already gave her the engagement ring?”

“I didn’t buy the rings as engagement rings,” he replied like I was an idiot. “They’re couple rings. See?” He flashed his finger. “I’m wearing mine to show I belong to her. Jane is the love of my life, and yes, I would’ve married her if my father wasn’t so obsessed with me marrying you.”

“I see,” I said flatly, completely unbothered. Believe me, I couldn’t care less.

“But I need an engagement ring too,” I added, just to see what he’d say.

“Well, you could wear the one you bought last night,” he offered, like he was doing me a favor.

“I can’t,” I said, feigning horror. “It’s too cheap. You really don’t want the press catching me wearing a fake diamond ring as your fiancée. It’ll ruin your image.”

His face tightened. “What? You bought a fake diamond ring? Don’t you ever put that thing on again, do you hear me?”

I nodded, pretending to be properly chastised.

“You’re right, I’ll get you one,” he sighed, like it physically hurt him to say it. “As for our marriage — you’ll only be my wife on paper. My body and soul already belong to Jane.”

I rolled my eyes, this time not even bothering to hide my irritation. How can one person be this shameless and still walk around like a human being?

He leaned in, voice low. “I’ve called the lawyer to draw up the contract. He’s on his way.”

“I think the marriage should last a year, tops. Then we divorce. What do you think?”

I nodded. “Actually, six months sounds better.”

He frowned. “Too risky. People will talk — it’ll cause a scandal.”

Honestly, it was the only sensible thing he’d said since opening his damn mouth.

“Speaking of the devil — here he is,” he said, looking toward the entrance.

I was about to turn when I heard the voice.

“Mr Nick Gold, sorry I’m late—”

I stiffened.

No… it can’t be…

“Derick,” I turned slowly.

“Nara… what are you doing here?” he asked surprise.

I groaned inwardly, looking up at the ceiling. God, why me?