Chapter 3: The Ultimatum

Samantha sat on the plush leather chair in her father's study, the weight of his words pressing down on her like an iron chain. Marry Maxwell or lose everything. It was a demand, not a request, and the fury bubbling inside her threatened to explode.

Her father, Jonathan Castillo,the powerful and ruthless CEO of Castillo's Enterprises, stood by the grand mahogany desk, his fingers drumming impatiently against its polished surface. His eyes, sharp and calculating, bore into hers, daring her to challenge him.

"I won't do it," Samantha spat, gripping the arms of the chair so hard her knuckles turned white.

Jonathan sighed, shaking his head. "You will. I have already made the arrangements. The engagement will be announced this weekend."

"I'd rather die," she shot back, standing abruptly. "I'm not some business deal you can sign off on."

"You're my daughter, and you will do as I say," he countered, his voice icy. "You think this is just about you? This is about our family, our legacy. Maxwell is the perfect match. His family's empire combined with ours will make us untouchable."

Samantha scoffed. "You mean richer. That's all this is about, right? Money, power, control. You don't care about me."

Jonathan's expression darkened. "I care about securing your future. Whether you like it or not, this is happening. If you refuse, you'll lose everything. Your bank accounts, your cars, your inheritance—gone. You won't even have a roof over your head."

Samantha felt the floor crumble beneath her. Her world, her independence, everything she had fought to keep despite her father's suffocating grip, was slipping away.

"You can't be serious," she whispered, but she already knew he was.

Jonathan walked around the desk and stood in front of her, his gaze cold and unyielding. "I am. I've tolerated your rebellion long enough. No more street racing, no more reckless behavior. You will marry Maxwell, and you will learn to be a proper wife."

Rage and panic twisted inside her, but she forced herself to remain calm. Losing her temper wouldn't help her now. She needed a way out.

"What if I leave?" she asked, tilting her chin up defiantly. "I don't need your money. I can take care of myself."

Jonathan smirked. "Really? You think your underground racing will pay the bills? Without my name, my protection, you won't last a day in this world. The moment you step out of this house with nothing, you'll see just how quickly people turn their backs on you."

Samantha clenched her fists. She hated that he was right. The world she lived in, the luxury she enjoyed, had all been funded by him. But she refused to be a pawn in his game.

"Maxwell and I don't even know each other. What if we're not compatible?" she argued.

Jonathan waved a dismissive hand. "Compatibility is irrelevant. Maxwell knows his duty, and so will you."

A sharp knock on the door interrupted them. A butler entered, bowing slightly. "Sir, Mr. Maxwell Hastings has arrived."

Samantha's stomach twisted.

"Good," Jonathan said, glancing at her with a smug smile. "It's time for you to meet your fiancé."

A Deal With the Devil

Samantha sat stiffly in the grand lounge, waiting for Maxwell to appear. The air was thick with tension, and every second felt like an eternity.

When the double doors finally opened, her breath caught.

Maxwell Hastings was not what she expected.

Tall, broad-shouldered, and devastatingly handsome, he carried himself with a quiet confidence that screamed danger. His sharp blue eyes locked onto hers, assessing, calculating. He wore a tailored navy suit, crisp and flawless, exuding wealth and power.

But it wasn't his looks that unnerved her—it was the cold indifference in his expression.

"Samantha," he greeted smoothly, his voice deep and unreadable.

She crossed her arms. "Maxwell."

Jonathan smiled, pleased. "I'll leave you two to talk. Get to know each other."

The moment he left, Samantha turned to Maxwell, fire in her eyes. "Let's get one thing straight—I have no intention of marrying you."

Maxwell arched an eyebrow, his lips curving slightly. "That makes two of us."

She blinked, caught off guard. "Excuse me?"

He leaned back against the couch, studying her with quiet amusement. "I don't want this marriage any more than you do. But our families have expectations."

Samantha narrowed her eyes. "Then why are you here?"

"Because I know how this game works," he said, his voice even. "Refusing won't change anything. Our parents will make sure this wedding happens, whether we like it or not. The question is—how do you want to play it?"

Her heart pounded. Was he suggesting what she thought he was?

"Are you saying... we can work together?"

Maxwell's smirk deepened. "I'm saying we might have more in common than you think."

A flicker of hope ignited in her chest, but she masked it with skepticism. "And what do you get out of this?"

He shrugged. "Freedom. Just like you. I have no interest in being tied down, especially not by my parents' demands. But if we're careful, we might be able to find a way out."

Samantha studied him, trying to gauge if he was serious. She had expected an arrogant, controlling businessman. Instead, she found an ally—potentially.

"Fine," she said slowly. "Let's make a deal. We pretend to go along with this, buy ourselves some time, and find a way to break it off without destroying everything."

Maxwell extended his hand. "Deal."

She hesitated only for a second before shaking it. His grip was firm, steady.

For the first time since her father's ultimatum, Samantha felt a sliver of control returning to her.

But as she looked into Maxwell's calculating eyes, she couldn't shake the feeling that she had just made a deal with the devil.

That night, as Samantha lay in bed, her mind raced with possibilities. She had expected a war, but now she had an unexpected partner. Could she really trust Maxwell? Or did he have his own agenda?

A soft chime from her phone interrupted her thoughts.

It was a message—from an unknown number.

"If you think Maxwell is your way out, you're wrong. Walk away now, or you'll regret it."

Her blood ran cold.

Someone was watching. Someone who didn't want her escaping this marriage.

And she had no idea who it was.