Chapter 1: The Night Everything Changed

Charles Wentworth stood in the big and fancy room of Wentworth Hall, feeling like he didn't belong. The ceiling lights sparkled like stars, shining down on the floor where lots of people danced. Men wore black suits, and women had pretty dresses that shined bright. Everyone laughed with their glasses in their hands, but Charles felt stuck. His black tie was squeezing his neck so much, and he didn't like it at all. He was twenty-six, with dark hair and nice green eyes, and he looked like a young guy from a rich family which he was—but he hated being there.

He held his tie, trying to loosen it so he could breathe better. The room was full of important people—over three hundred of them—talking about just money and power as Rich folks.

Tonight's party was more than just a celebration - it was the beginning of a fate Charles dreaded. His parents had arranged for him to marry Katherine Harrow, a wealthy woman, to save their struggling family business. A month ago, his parents told him about the marriage. He'd yelled but they didn't even care.

Charles felt trapped and resentful about the arrangement.

"Charles, smile," his mom, Eleanor, said quietly, sounding angry. She moved closer, her red dress showing luxury. Her blonde hair was tied up very well, and her blue eyes stared at him, cold. She grabbed his arm, her nails hurting a little. "Katherine's coming soon. Don't mess this up."

"I'm not a baby," he said under his breath, pulling his arm away fast. A few people looked over, curious, but he kept his face still. "I don't want to do this, Mom. I keep telling you."

Her eyes got smaller, but she kept smiling for the crowd. "You don't get to pick, Charles. Marrying her keeps us safe—it saves everything your dad worked for. This isn't about what you want. Be a big boy."

Charles pressed his teeth together hard, feeling mad. Wentworth Shipping was a huge boat company his family owned. His grandpa started it with one boat, his dad made it bigger, and now it was falling apart because of bad choices. Charles had seen the papers—lots of money gone—and they were almost broke. Katherine Harrow was their answer. She was thirty, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a very wealthy tech mogul. He'd met her two times at boring parties. She was pretty, but cold, like a snow queen. Charles didn't like her.

His dad, Edward, pushed through the crowd. He was tall with Grey hair and his loud voice booming. "She's outside," he said gruffly, slapping Charles's shoulder. "Pay attention, son. This is important

Charles pushed his dad's hand off, feeling annoyed. "I'm here, okay?" he said, looking at the giant doors across the room. They were wood, with a picture of a boat and a crown carved on them, and tonight, they felt like a jail door closing.

Edward made a noise, half-laugh, half-displeasure. "You're here, but you look sad. Fix your face, boy. She's not just any girl—she's how we stay rich."

Charles didn't say anything back. His hand went to his pocket where his phone buzzed. It was his way out, a little light in the dark. He pulled it out quietly and looked—Helena: "It's raining hard. Come over? I've got tea and that book you gave me—'The Narrow Path.' It's so good!" His heart jumped, feeling warm and happy. Helena Raine worked at a bookstore called Raine's Books. She had messy brown hair and big, kind brown eyes that smiled at her.

Six months ago, he'd run into her shop to hide from the rain, and she'd given him a towel, laughing about his wet shoes. They'd talked a lot—about books, silly stuff, everything—and soon they were meeting for coffee and walks, her laugh making his bad days better. She was his secret, the one good thing he had.

"Put that away," Eleanor said fast, grabbing his phone before he could stop her. She looked at it, her mouth twisting when she saw Helena's name. "Who's Helena?" she asked, her voice quiet but mean like she was mad.

"No one," he lied, trying to take it back. She pulled it away and put it in her red purse, closing it tight.

"Pay attention," she said, sounding scary. "This isn't playtime, Charles. You're not running off to see some girl. Katherine's here, and you're going to do what we need."

He stared at her, angry, his hands turning into fists, but he didn't talk back. Not with everyone watching. The music started, slow and sad, and people moved aside as the big doors opened. The talking stopped, and Charles felt the air get heavy like a big rain was coming.

Katherine Harrow walked in, strong and sure, like she owned the place. Her black dress fit her tight, shining, and her blonde hair was pulled back so neat it looked perfect. Her blue eyes looked around, strong and calm, and she smiled at Charles—a small, fake smile that didn't feel nice. A big man in a dark suit walked behind her, quiet and ready to protect her.

She saw Charles from far away, and it felt like no one else was there.

People whispered, amazed and jealous, as she came closer, her shoes clicking loudly on the floor. Charles stood tall, even though his stomach hurt, feeling nervous. She stopped right in front of him, and he smelled her fancy smell—like cold air in winter.

"Charles," she said, her voice sharp. She brought out her hand, and it was cold when he touched it. "Ready for this?"

He nodded and shook her hand quickly. "Yeah," he said, trying to sound okay, even though he wasn't.

Her eyes looked at him hard, like she knew he was hiding something. "Good," she said shortly. "Let's get it done."

She turned to the crowd, and Charles stood next to her, his mom and dad close by—Eleanor smiling big, Edward standing proud. The music got quiet, and waiters brought drinks, the glasses making little noises. Charles wanted to hold something, anything, to feel better.

Edward coughed loudly and went up on a small stage, a bright light shining on him. His voice was big and strong, making everyone listen. "Friends, tonight is special! We're joining two big families. My son, Charles Wentworth, and Katherine Harrow are getting married!"

The room erupted in cheers and applause, hurting Charles's ears. He stepped up with Katherine and placed a shiny ring on her finger. Her smile looked fake.

The crowd cheered louder, but Charles felt empty inside.

He looked at Katherine—she stared at him, not blinking, like a bird watching its food.

"Happy now?" he said quietly, so only she could hear.

"Super happy," she said back, her voice dry and mean. "You?"

He didn't say anything, feeling stuck. The noise slowed down, and people talked and danced again. Cameras flashed, and Katherine got close for a picture, her breath cold on his ear. "You're thinking about something else," she whispered, sounding tricky. "Who is it, Charles?"

"No one," he said too fast, his heart beating quickly. She smiled a tiny bit, but didn't say more—just moved for the next picture, her hand on his arm like a heavy chain.

The night went on forever, feeling bad. People kept coming up—"Great job!" "You're so lucky!" "Your dad's happy!"—shaking his hand, talking loudly. Charles smiled and nodded, but he was thinking of Helena, waiting at her shop with tea, wondering where he was. He saw her in his head—smiling, reading, being with him. Every minute here was a minute he wasn't with her, telling her the truth.

When everyone left, Charles ran out a side door and up to his room. His shoes echoed on the stone floor. He shut the door hard, and the rain pounded against the windows.

He grabbed his wet coat and put it on, feeling shaky but determined

He had to see Helena. He had to tell her everything and say sorry. He didn't want her to hear it from someone else.

He ran downstairs and out into the rain. He got into his car and started the engine. But before he could leave, Katherine grabbed him through the window.

His head hit the car, and he felt a sharp pain. Katherine's eyes looked mean. "Leaving so soon?" she asked in a quiet but scary voice

He stopped, water in his eyes, scared to breathe. Before he could talk, a car roared close—loud and fast. Bright lights came through the rain, and something big sped at them, tires loud on the wet ground, coming right for him.