Serena Mclane's P. O. V I toss and turn in bed countless amount of times, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in but I'm still not satisfied. I let out a groan, finally giving up with trying to sleep. I know it's because of my nagging thoughts that are contributing to my lack of sleep, more than anything else. My mind flashes back to day before yesterday, when the Stryker's had come over. I remember how I was rooted in place due to shock but as soon as I could get my legs moving, I had. Entering into the living room, I was severely disappointed to find out that Damien had left. He apparently had some important, unattended business he had to get too. Just that had made my nerves spike up but luckily no one had said anything. Not even that night or the one after did my father say anything derogatory to me. Instead he let me be and hadn't uttered a word. However that just makes me even more worried. I adjust my pillow, as I sink down into its softness, trying to find some sort of comfort.What if Dad is just doing this so that I lower my guard? I keep telling myself that I'm being absurd and over thinking everything but I can't help it. Any one of the Stryker's can be downstairs right now, complaining about what I said the other day. How I tattled like a small little girl. One side of me– probably the much wiser one– is scared to the core thinking that Damien will tell his parents who in turn will tell mine and stir up even more trouble for me, while the other part– the one that doesn't listen to her brain much– completely trusts the man she's only talked to once. Most of that conversation was one sided. Finally giving up on my much awaited sleep, I sit up in bed and let out a low agonising groan. Why do I have to lose precious sleep over such troubling thoughts? Why can't I just not care about my future and let it lead me blindly while I somehow manage to stumble and stagger along. Doing the exact same thing– stumbling and staggering might I add– I head to the bathroom and turn the tap on, splashing water onto my face. Maybe a shower will help me brighten up? Though I highly doubt so. By the time I walk down to the kitchen, breakfast is being served and father is sitting in his usual seat, reading the stock market section of the newspaper. "Morning." I mumble as I trudge to my own designated area. As every morning goes, I only get a chirpy 'Morning' from my mother while my father ignores my existence. It's such a nice thought that I'm going to be the one saving his name and bringing it into a new light by not only taking over the company but also marrying someone like the Stryker's. It's nice to be appreciated sometimes. I mentally snort at my own thoughts but calm myself down at the sight of my full breakfast fry up. Thanking my mum, it doesn't take me long to devour all my food. I'm a ravenous mess but that fact never changes. By the time I'm done and sipping on my coffee, my father puts his newspaper down and looks me dead in the eyes. "Meet me in the study. We need to talk." Just that last sentence makes dread take over and it feel like I'm about to bring back up what I've eaten. Nonetheless, I stand up and follow my father out of the kitchen. As I leave the room, I catch my mothers eye only to see her beaming brightly at me. Well at least it's good news. As good news as it can be, coming from my father. Entering into the familiar room, I scan my surroundings as I always do for some reason. Everything looks the same. With its wooden paneled walls and deep burgundy carpet. Bookshelves rest against the outer walls filled with various books, all about business and what not. My fathers cherry wood desk lies right in the middle with papers scattering the work top. I sit in one of the stiff uncomfortable seats as my father takes his place in front of me. The silence doesn't last long as it always does when my father and I are in question. "I have talked to the Stryker's." My father says. Just that makes me freeze in place though I try my best to seem unaffected. "And?" I question, acting oblivious. My father pauses as he assesses my face. Apparently Dad finds what he needs as he nods his head. "The Stryker's, Damien in particular has brought to my attention that the wedding shouldn't go as planned." I am going to murder Damien Stryker in cold blood! How dare he? Thinking a thousand bad thoughts at him, it takes my father calling me by middle name to bring back my attention. "Vivian!" He calls. Snapping my head, I meet his gaze. "Yes father?" I try to say in the most pleasant tone I can manage. "They have decided to extend the engagement. My proposal was to get married as soon as possible but they would rather you too get engaged for as long as it takes so you both can get to know each other." I can immediately tell my father disapproves of this and would rather have his own way. "So what exactly does that mean?" I ask so I can clarify everything. Damien didn't prattle on me like I expected him to do. "This means that although you won't be getting married so soon, you too will be spending a substantial amount of time together." Why does Damien want that? Wouldn't I just get on his nerves? I'd never expect him to agree to this nevertheless come up with all this himself. "By substantial you mean?" I know already what that actually entails and just the thought of it leaves me terrified. "You will be moving in with Damien as soon as he is available to handle such matters. It may be today, it maybe in a matter of weeks. Just be prepared, I'd advice you to go and pack now." My mouth falls open as I try to process all his words. Moving? I can't move from here, let alone into Damien's house Though I find myself nodding, and before I know it, I'm up in my room packing away all of my clothes, books, and with it all the memories I have. As the sun slowly starts to fade, shining it's rays as they slowly start to fade behind clouds, I finally finish my packing. I can't believe I have this much stuff. I try not to think of the imminent situation that awaits me. I mean it could be a good few days before he finally comes to whisk me away.However from the little interaction I've had with him, I know that he isn't the sort of man to let things lie idle for long. Before I know it, I'm existing out of my room and then out of the confines of my house altogether. Entering into the backyard, I let my legs lead me to the back of the shed and over to my swing. Stepping on the overgrown flora, I relax as I take a seat. Just thinking of all the memories I have here makes me feel a plethora of emotions. But this is natural right? Everyone feels sentimental when they have to leave behind their homes. It's a part of life and I need to grow the heck up.That still doesn't stop the memories from entering into my mind. Leaving me teary eyed and yet still smiling. I must look like an emotional wreck. My most fond and cherished memories are of how my father and I used to come here every single day when I was a small toddler. When this place didn't seem so desolate and void of life. Whenever mum used to go off on one of her little tiffs, my father used to pick me up in his arms and run to here where we used to stay for hours on end. It used to be our little bonding time. I remember how Sarah would get incredibly angry but she was going through her 'hormonal teenager' phase and acted as if everything meant nothing to her. I swear, sometimes it's like she hasn't grown out of it. But I know that's just the sibling rivalry talking. My sentimental attachment to this place isn't healthy I know but I can't seem to distance myself from this place. But it's my own little sanctuary, everyone has one, I'm sure. A small part of me knows it's like a plea for attention for my father to come out here.I know I'm too old for him to push me on a swing and all that sort of stuff but I still want him to interact with me, to show a little fatherly love. I'm pathetic. Trapped in my own little haze of self belittlement, I barely notice the approaching footsteps. "Serena?" A voice calls out. My eyes immediately snap up to stormy blue ones. "Damien." I say, swallowing the lump in my throat that forms at the sight of him. "We're leaving." So I was right. He doesn't take anything lightly no matter what the situation. "Why so soon?" I ask as I stand up. I don't look his way, I just stare longingly at my withered down swing with its coarse and rough ropes that is holding it to the tree. "I need to settle other matters and I perceived you would want to get such things over and done with." He is sort of right about that. I want all this moving stuff to be over and done with so that I can come up with some sort of plan. While another part of me wants to stay here for as long as I can. Glancing at him, he looks no different then when I last saw him. Those same distant yet emotionless eyes glow at me and he still stands in that rigid poised way of his. And unsurprisingly he's clad in a perfectly fitted suit. I gather he's just come from work. "Come." He says as he leads us back to the house. "How did you find me?" I try to make small talk. Damien just glimpses at me over his shoulder. "I just did." Is all he says. I sigh as we make our way into the house through the backdoor that enters into the kitchen. Damien barely talks, barely makes conversation. He's just a big silent brute. And I'm supposed to be living with him in just a matter of hours. This is surely going to be interesting.