Five : Why?

Oliver Knight's POV

"You shouldn't be here."

The words slipped out of my mouth, more an observation than a command, as I took in the sight of her standing at the cliff's edge. She turned slightly, just enough to acknowledge my presence, her profile bathed in the dim light of the moon. There was something in the way she held herself-tense, yet resolute-that piqued my curiosity.

"And why shouldn't I be?" she countered, her voice laced with defiance. "You're not the one to tell me where I can or cannot be."

I remained silent, allowing the night to fill the space between us. She was clearly troubled, her eyes distant as they stared out into the darkness. Yet there was a strength to her, a determination that matched the sharpness in her tone.

She sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of whatever burden she was carrying. "I need a moment to myself, so if you don't mind..."

"As you wish," I replied, inclining my head slightly. I made no move to leave.

Seconds passed, and I saw her glance back, her brow furrowing slightly when she noticed I was still there. "That was your cue to leave, you know."

I couldn't help the faint smirk that tugged at my lips. "This is my land. I can stay as long as I want."

Her gaze sharpened, and for a moment, I thought she might actually tell me to leave again. Instead, she huffed softly and shook her head. "Then I suppose I should be the one to go."

"You don't have to," I said quickly, almost too quickly. "If you wish to stay... stay. Calm down, or... whatever it is you need to do."

She studied me for a long moment, as if weighing her options. The night was cool, the wind tugging gently at her hair, and I found myself inexplicably unwilling to see her go. Finally, she sighed again and turned back to the view, though she no longer seemed as distant.

I stepped closer, though still keeping a respectful distance. "You look... disturbed. Do you need to talk about it?"

She gave a soft, humorless laugh. "You expect me to burden a stranger with my problems?"

"I've been told I'm a good listener."

She hesitated, her eyes darting towards me before looking away again. I could see the inner conflict on her face, as though she was debating whether or not to trust me with her thoughts.

After a moment, she spoke. "My father is... attempting to set me up with someone."

There it was again, that strange tightening in my chest-jealousy, I realized. I didn't know why the thought of her being paired with someone else bothered me so much. But it did, and it took considerable effort to maintain my calm demeanor.

"And you don't want that?" I asked, keeping my voice neutral.

"Would you?" she shot back, a bitter edge to her words. "My father thinks it's time I became useful to him. As if I'm some sort of... transaction."

I frowned at that, a flash of anger sparking inside me. The thought of her being treated like an object, something to be used... it made my blood boil. "He has no right."

She looked at me, surprise flickering in her eyes. Perhaps she hadn't expected me to side with her so quickly. Or maybe it was the intensity of my response that caught her off guard.

We stood there in silence for a while, the tension slowly dissipating as the night wore on. She seemed to relax, her shoulders losing some of their rigidity. The wind rustled through the trees, and I found myself wondering what it was about this woman that stirred such unfamiliar emotions within me.

Eventually, she glanced at her watch and sighed. "I should get back. It's late."

I nodded, not wanting her to go but knowing I had no reason to keep her. Just as she turned to leave, I spoke. "Oliver Knight."

I stopped, turning back to him. "Excuse me?"

"My name," he clarified, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. "Oliver Knight."

She paused, looking back at me with curiosity. "Lena Stewart."

"Hope to see you again, Lena," I said, the words slipping out before I could think better of them.

A small smile curved her lips, and then she turned and walked away, leaving me alone at the cliff's edge. I watched her until she disappeared from view, the feeling of longing and confusion still gnawing at me.

What was it about her that I couldn't shake?

Lena's POV

The grand double doors of Ravenswood Mansion loomed ahead as I approached, the night air clinging to my skin with a cool dampness. I hesitated for a moment on the threshold, gathering my thoughts before stepping inside. As soon as the door clicked shut behind me, the warmth of the house enveloped me, but it didn't soothe the tension that had settled in my chest.

I made my way through the dimly lit hall, the familiar scent of aged wood and polished floors filling my senses. The soft echoes of my footsteps bounced off the walls, accompanying me as I headed toward the grand staircase that led to my room.

Just as my hand touched the banister, a voice cut through the silence.

"Lena."

I froze, my father's voice commanding my attention like a whip. I turned slowly to see him standing in the doorway of his study, his expression unreadable, though there was a distinct edge to his tone.

"Where did you disappear to in the middle of the ball?" he demanded, stepping forward. His eyes narrowed, and I could see the thinly veiled irritation in them. "Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was for me?"

"I wasn't feeling well," I replied, forcing my voice to stay steady. "I just needed some air."

His frown deepened as he folded his arms across his chest. "You could have informed someone. Greg was asking about you all night, wondering where you'd gone. What am I supposed to tell him?"

"I didn't think it would matter," I muttered, looking down at the polished floor. The mention of Greg's name sent a surge of frustration through me. "Father, I need to talk to you about Greg. I'm not comfortable with this arrangement, and I don't like him."

"Greg Collins is a good match," my father interrupted, his tone final. "You should be grateful for this opportunity. The Collins family is influential, and this union would benefit us both."

"But I don't care about that," I protested, lifting my gaze to meet his. "I don't want to be forced into something I don't want. Greg-"

"Enough, Lena," he snapped, his patience evidently wearing thin. "This isn't up for discussion. You will have dinner with the Collins tomorrow evening, and you will behave accordingly. Do you understand?"

I clenched my fists at my sides, a bitter taste filling my mouth. It was clear that my words were falling on deaf ears. He was always like this-always focused on what was best for him, never considering what I wanted or how I felt.

"Yes, Father," I replied stiffly, the fight draining out of me as I realized there was no point in arguing. I turned back toward the staircase, willing the tears threatening to form in my eyes to stay at bay.

As I ascended the stairs, the weight of the evening pressed down on me, and the thought of tomorrow's dinner filled me with a sense of dread. It seemed that no matter how hard I tried, I was always trapped in this cycle, bound by my father's expectations and unable to break free.

But as I reached my room and closed the door behind me, my thoughts drifted back to the man on the cliff-Oliver Knight. There was something about him that lingered in my mind, something that made me feel strangely at ease, even in the midst of all this turmoil.

I sighed and sank onto the edge of my bed, staring out the window at the dark sky. Whatever tomorrow brought, I knew one thing for sure: I couldn't let myself be pushed around anymore. Not by my father, not by Greg, and not by anyone.