Chapter 17: A Hitch

The dream felt so vivid that for a moment I thought I was back in my mother’s arms again. Her voice had been soft, almost like a song I hadn’t heard in years, calling my name in that familiar way that used to make everything feel safe. There was sunlight in that dream — soft and warm — and I could almost smell the jasmine perfume she always wore. I wanted to stay there, in that fragile pocket of memory, suspended somewhere between grief and comfort. But then the light faded, and all I could hear was the faint echo of her whispering something I couldn’t quite catch.

I gasped and jolted awake. My heart raced wildly against my chest, my breath sharp and uneven as the last traces of the dream slipped through my fingers. The room was dim, the faint glow of the bedside lamp barely illuminating the shadows that clung to the corners. My sheets were tangled around my legs, damp from the sweat that came with that dream that always left me both shaken and hollow.

But then—movement.

Someone was sitting beside me.

For a second, I froze, unsure if I was still dreaming. Then my eyes adjusted, and the figure became clearer. My chest tightened when I realized who it was.

Nina.

The shock of seeing her there, sitting so calmly at the edge of my bed, made my throat go dry. Her pale face looked ghostly in the low light, her expression unreadable. For one terrifying heartbeat, I thought she was my mother, come back in some twisted way.

“What—” My voice cracked as I pushed myself upright. “What are you doing here?”

Nina’s gaze didn’t waver. Her tone was soft, practiced, almost gentle. “I’m sorry to have startled you,” she said. “Your father gave me the spare key. He said you wouldn’t open up the door.”

Of course he did.

I looked away, biting down on the inside of my cheek. The ache of that dream was still lingering, heavy in my chest, and now this—her—made everything feel even more suffocating. I didn’t bother responding to her apology. It felt hollow anyway.

“What are you doing in my room?” I asked again, sharper this time, forcing the tremor out of my voice.

Nina sighed quietly, her movements slow and deliberate, like she was trying to present herself as harmless. Her perfectly manicured hand reached across the space between us, fingers cold and elegant as she tried to place it over mine.

I jerked away instantly. The contact—or the thought of it—made my skin crawl.

For a fleeting second, I thought I saw something in her eyes shift. Her smile faltered, and then it was back again—a tight, practiced curve that didn’t quite reach her eyes. There was something unsettling about how composed she always seemed, even when she was being rejected. Like she was studying me, measuring every twitch of my expression.

Her body language changed subtly. The softness melted away, and there it was—that sly smirk I had always dreaded. The one that told me she wasn’t nearly as gentle as she wanted everyone to believe.

The silence between us stretched thin. I could hear the distant hum of the night outside—the crickets, the faint rustle of wind against the curtains—and underneath it all, the quiet sound of my own heartbeat hammering in my ears.

There was something about her presence that always made me feel smaller, like I was being backed into an invisible corner. Even now, with the faint light flickering across her face, I could sense that familiar chill creeping in—the one that told me she wasn’t just here out of concern.

I wanted to ask her why she was really there. If it was because of what I said earlier, or because of Kevin, or maybe because she wanted to remind me—without words—that she was the woman my father chose.

But I couldn’t bring myself to speak.

So I just sat there, clutching the edge of the blanket, staring at her hand as she slowly withdrew it, her smirk lingering like a stain in the air.

And for the first time in a long while, I felt that old, familiar dread again—the same one that always came when Nina Stone was near.

Like she knew something I didn’t.

Like she always had.

Nina’s words came like small, deliberate cuts—each one careful, polite, but sharp enough to leave a sting. She stood there at the edge of my bed, her back straight, the glow from the bedside lamp outlining the silhouette of her expensive silk night robe. There was something chilling about how calm she always sounded, as if emotions were a thing she could slip in and out of whenever it suited her.

When she mentioned my outburst at the balcony, my stomach twisted. Of course she’d bring it up. I should’ve known that somehow, she would turn even my moment of honesty into a conversation that made me feel guilty for having feelings at all.

“I understand how you feel about this whole marriage engagement thing between your father and I…” she said, her tone light, almost rehearsed.

I lifted my eyes to meet hers, and before I could stop myself, the sarcasm slipped through my lips. “Do you?”

The corner of her mouth twitched, but she didn’t rise to my tone. Instead, she just smoothed down her robe and continued, as if she hadn’t heard the bitterness at all.

“Kevin was against the idea too,” she went on. “He still is. I think the decision is taking a toll on him. He’s tried to convince me to have a change of heart, but ever since this arrangement, we’ve never had a normal conversation that didn’t end in arguments.”

The mention of Kevin’s name made my pulse jump. It was involuntary, a reaction I couldn’t control no matter how much I tried. My throat tightened, and I swallowed hard, the sound loud in the still room. My mind instantly betrayed me, drifting to him—his touch, his voice, the way he looked at me like he could read every thought I tried to hide.

I tried to keep my face blank, but I could feel my body betraying me. The tension in my shoulders, the tremor in my fingers as they gripped the sheets. Nina’s eyes flickered briefly toward my hands, and I forced myself to let go of the fabric before she noticed how tightly I’d been holding it.

“I know it’s sudden,” she continued, her tone calm but heavy with unspoken implications. “And as expected, you’re uncomfortable about it. Kevin is too. But your father and I would love to see both of you really get along with each other.”

Get along.

If only she knew how close we already were.

The words stung in a strange way. I bit the inside of my cheek, the metallic tang of blood grounding me as the images in my mind grew louder—Kevin’s hands, his lips, his voice murmuring my name in the dark. My chest tightened with a mix of guilt and longing.

Nina had no idea how her casual suggestion twisted the knife deeper.

“You both are grown adults,” she said, her tone taking on that patronizing edge she was so good at. “And should understand that these things happen. Your father and I needed to save his company. That’s why the merge should happen.”

There was no trace of emotion in her voice—no warmth, no regret. It was just business, like everything else she touched. I stared at her, wondering if she’d ever loved anyone for reasons that weren’t tied to money or control.

My fingers curled around the edge of my blanket again, knuckles turning white. I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my ears, not from anger this time—but from the suffocating fear that came with realizing how tangled this web had become.

Then she said it. The thing that made my breath hitch.

“You and Kevin must get involved with the affairs of the company starting tomorrow.”

I blinked, the words not quite sinking in at first. “What?” I muttered, my voice faint.

Before I could say anything else, I heard another voice—my father’s voice—coming from the doorway. I turned sharply, startled by how quietly he’d entered. He was holding a cup of coffee, his expression calm but firm, the kind of look he always wore when he wanted to sound reasonable but had already made up his mind.

“Your stepmother is right,” he said. “So whatever drift there is between you and Kevin has to go down the drain tonight.”

My stomach dropped.

He took a sip of his coffee like he hadn’t just said the one thing that made my chest clench. He had no idea what kind of drift existed between me and Kevin. And if he did—if he ever found out—I wasn’t sure I’d survive the shame.

“You both have to settle your differences,” Nina added, her eyes flickering between my father and me. Her voice was smooth again, steady, but her gaze held something else—something sharper. Like she was daring me to protest, just to see what would happen.

I could feel their combined presence pressing down on me, filling the room with a heaviness that made it hard to breathe.

I nodded slowly, keeping my eyes down so they wouldn’t see the panic behind them. My mind was a mess—Kevin’s name echoing through my thoughts, my father’s voice replaying like static, Nina’s smirk lingering like smoke.

They wanted peace. They wanted harmony. They wanted control.

And I—broken, foolish, trembling inside—just wanted to get them both out of my room before the truth came spilling out of me like a confession I couldn’t take back.

So I just whispered, “Okay.”