I stared at Adrian.
—You make it sound like I’ve spent six years trying to escape.
His expression remained calm.
—You have.
I opened my mouth.
Then closed it.
Because technically, he wasn’t wrong.
Every anniversary, I suggested postponing the wedding.
Every time our families discussed dates, I suddenly found a conference, a project, an illness or an extremely urgent need to reorganize my closet.
I had assumed Adrian didn’t care.
He always answered:
—Fine.
No complaint.
No visible disappointment.
Apparently, “fine” had been hiding an entire psychological catastrophe.
Beside me, Chloe’s thoughts exploded.
【Don’t provoke him!】
【In my previous life, this is the expression he had before buying three competitors just because one of them hired a private investigator to locate Sophia.】
I looked at Adrian again.
The emotional refrigerator suddenly seemed less harmless.
—I’m tired.
I grabbed my suitcase.
—We’ll discuss this tomorrow.
Adrian caught the handle.
—No.
I glared at him.
—You really like that word.
—Because you keep making unreasonable requests.
—Leaving my own house is unreasonable?
—Running away without telling anyone is.
Chloe tightened her arms around mine.
—She’s right!
I looked at her.
—Whose side are you on?
—Yours!
【And my bank account’s!】
I almost choked.
Adrian narrowed his eyes.
—Why are you looking at her like that?
—Nothing.
Chloe smiled nervously.
I suddenly realized I was the only person in the room hearing her thoughts.
And if what she remembered was true, leaving tonight wouldn’t free me.
It would apparently turn Adrian into some financially destructive international stalker.
Wonderful.
My life had gone from arranged-marriage comedy to supernatural hostage negotiation in less than an hour.
I released the suitcase.
—Fine.
Adrian’s shoulders visibly relaxed.
Just slightly.
But I saw it.
—I’ll stay tonight.
Chloe nearly cried with relief.
【Hamilton family saved.】
【Dad’s heart saved.】
【My future inheritance saved.】
I looked at her.
She immediately gave me an angelic smile.
This girl was dangerous.
That night, Chloe insisted on sleeping in my room.
She claimed she was nervous.
The truth was much louder.
【If Sophia disappears while I’m asleep, we’re all finished.】
I lay beside her staring at the ceiling.
Finally I asked:
—Chloe.
—Hmm?
—Do you believe Adrian loves me?
She turned rigid.
—Why ask me?
—You seemed very confident downstairs.
She swallowed.
—Maybe because… he looked at you differently.
I almost laughed.
—Adrian looks at quarterly reports with more emotion than he looks at me.
Chloe’s thoughts immediately screamed.
【That’s because every time he looks at her too long, he loses control of his expression!】
I slowly turned my head.
Chloe covered herself with the blanket.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
The next morning, I decided to conduct an experiment.
Adrian arrived at breakfast at exactly seven thirty.
Naturally.
His coffee was black.
His newspaper folded precisely.
His tie perfectly centered.
I sat opposite him.
—Adrian.
—Yes?
—I want flowers.
His coffee stopped halfway to his mouth.
—What kind?
I blinked.
That was faster than expected.
—Peonies.
He nodded.
—Anything else?
Chloe nearly inhaled her toast.
【In the previous life she asked for peonies once at nineteen! He has had them flown in every spring and never given them because he thought she’d find it excessive!】
I stared at Adrian.
—Have you ever bought me flowers before?
—No.
—Why?
He looked genuinely confused.
—You said cut flowers die quickly and are wasteful.
I remembered saying that.
Once.
Six years ago.
My chest tightened strangely.
—And the anniversary reports?
He frowned.
—You complained that jewelry was useless.
—I didn’t mean I wanted financial projections.
—I thought you would appreciate something practical.
Chloe lowered her face to hide her laughter.
【Romantically disabled. Diagnosis confirmed.】
I agreed with her.
Then I asked:
—Do you even know what my favorite dessert is?
Adrian answered immediately.
—Chestnut mille-feuille from Maison Laurent, but only the version with less sugar because the normal cream gives you a headache.
I froze.
—My favorite flowers?
—White peonies.
—Coffee?
—You hate coffee.
—Tea?
—Jasmine in winter, iced oolong in summer.
Chloe’s mouth fell open.
So did mine.
Adrian folded his newspaper.
—Are we taking an examination?
I stared at him.
For six years I had interpreted his silence as indifference.
Perhaps I had been wrong.
But loving someone silently didn’t erase six years of making them guess.
—Why didn’t you ever tell me?
His eyes lifted.
—Tell you what?
I almost shouted.
Instead I leaned forward.
—That you actually wanted this marriage.
For the first time, Adrian looked uncomfortable.
He glanced toward Chloe.
—Leave.
She immediately stood.
—Of course.
【No! I want to hear!】
She walked away painfully slowly.
Adrian waited until she disappeared.
Then he said:
—Because you never wanted it.
That answer stunned me.
—I thought you hated being engaged to me.
—I thought you hated being engaged to me.
Silence.
Six years.
Six entire years.
Two highly educated adults.
Zero useful communication.
I covered my face.
—This is humiliating.
—Agreed.
I looked through my fingers.
—Don’t agree with that.
His mouth moved.
Almost a smile.
Almost.
Then the doorbell rang.
A servant entered moments later.
—Miss Hamilton, someone is here asking for you.
A man stepped into the dining room.
Tall.
Young.
Familiar.
Ethan Cole.
My former university classmate.
The only man who had ever openly confessed to me.
Adrian’s face changed instantly.
Ethan smiled.
—Sophia. I heard your engagement might be canceled.
Chloe reappeared from nowhere.
Her thoughts practically detonated.
【Oh no.】
【This is him.】
【In the previous life Ethan helped Sophia leave the country.】
Adrian slowly stood.
His chair made almost no sound.
That somehow made it worse.
Ethan glanced at him.
—Mr. Whitmore.
Adrian’s voice was perfectly polite.
—Mr. Cole.
Then Ethan looked at me.
—I came to ask whether the offer I made six years ago still stands a chance.
Before I could answer, Adrian placed one hand on the back of my chair.
Possessive.
Controlled.
Dangerously calm.
—No.
I looked up.
—I can answer for myself.
His jaw tightened.
—Then answer.
Ethan smiled.
Chloe was nearly vibrating.
【Please choose carefully. The national economy may depend on this.】
I ignored her.
I looked at Adrian.
Then at Ethan.
And suddenly I understood something.
For six years, everyone had been deciding what I was.
Hamilton daughter.
Whitmore fiancée.
False heiress.
Potential bride.
Asset.
Obligation.
This time, I wanted my own answer.
—I won’t marry anyone right now.
Both men froze.
I stood.
—The engagement is suspended.
Adrian’s eyes darkened.
—Sophia.
—Not canceled.
He stopped.
—I need time.
—To decide whether I want you because I choose you, not because our families decided before I could spell marriage.
Adrian stared at me.
Then, slowly, he nodded.
—How much time?
—Six months.
—Three.
—Six.
—Four.
I blinked.
—Are you negotiating our courtship?
—Yes.
Despite myself, I laughed.
—Five months.
—Agreed.
Chloe covered her mouth.
【The apocalypse has been postponed.】
Five months later, Adrian proposed again.
Not at a board dinner.
Not with family lawyers present.
Not because of an agreement.
He took me to the greenhouse behind the Hamilton estate.
It was filled entirely with white peonies.
I stared at him.
—This is excessive.
—I know.
—They’re going to die.
—I know.
—And completely impractical.
His expression finally softened into the smallest smile.
—I know that too.
Then he held out a ring.
—Sophia Hamilton, Bennett, whatever surname you eventually choose…
I laughed.
—Will you marry me because you want to?
This time, there was no contract waiting.
No family agreement.
No obligation.
I said yes.
Chloe cried louder than my mother.
And when I hugged her afterward, her thoughts whispered something that finally made me understand why she had clung to me that first night.
【This time everyone gets to live.】
I tightened my arms around her.
She had come home believing she was replacing me.
Instead, she became my sister.
And Adrian?
He never became warm.
That would have required a personality transplant.
But he learned flowers.
Surprises.
Actual dates without spreadsheets.
And I learned something too.
I had spent six years believing Adrian’s silence meant he didn’t love me.
The truth was far more ridiculous.
He had loved me so badly, so quietly, and so stubbornly that when fate finally gave me an excuse to run—
the real heiress had to grab my arm and save both our families from the man who had already decided, years ago, that the only bride he would ever accept was me
