CAMELIA'S POV

"I didn't actually intend to take a ride with him, a mere stranger." I thought inwardly to myself. "But I was left with no choice. If I didn't, I wouldn't be safe."

My life had turned into a nightmare, and the threat wasn't a shadow or a whisper; it was real. Alex and Diana, the very people once trusted, were now trying everything in their power to ensure that I was killed. Also, they could take what wasn't theirs, my inheritance.

"I just need to go to a hotel and escape from my house."

So I sat there, in the front seat of a stranger's car, heart pounding, hands trembling, knowing fully well that I was putting my life into someone else's hands. Yet strangely, I didn't feel fear. I felt something else—curiosity, maybe even a strange sense of fate.

"Miss, what's your name?" He questioned in a low tone, but I ignored him at first.

The car purred softly along the road. Riding, the man who had practically saved my life back at the hospital remained silent, eyes focused on the road ahead. His jaw was clenched, fingers tight around the wheel.

Meanwhile, his phone wouldn't stop ringing; I could see the screen lighting up repeatedly from the center console. The same. number, over and over again.

"Goddamn it!" He mumbled harshly, his eyes blazing with fury.

Whoever it was had been calling him even before we left the hospital. He glanced at it once, signed, and ignored it again.

On the dashboard sat a white sheet of paper, folded and slightly creased. My eyes lingered on it. It didn't look like an ordinary note. Something about the way he kept glancing at it between calls made me think it was important.

Maybe a job contract? A document? But I said nothing, and neither did he.

Both of us seemed to be having a silent contest of who would break the silence first. I was too exhausted to start a conversation, and he seemed too proud to initiate one. But as fate would have it, we both spoke at the same time.

He gave a faint chuckle. "You go first," he said, his gentlemanly voice calm and deep.

I nodded slightly. "Alright, like I said, my name is Camelia George."

He nodded and repeated his name again. "I'm Riven Harrison."

The moment his name registered, something flickered in my memory. I turned sharply to face him, my voice caught halfway between disbelief and recognition.

"Wait, are you the son of billionaire Harrison?"

He glanced at me from the corner of his eye. "I am. Why do you ask? How do you know about that?"

I smirked, folding my arms. "That question would make sense if I were someone who didn't watch the news. But I do. And I remember very well the headline I saw the night before my birthday went rogue." I paused while his focus was on the road.

"Tell me how you know," he demanded.

"It was said the rightful heir of the Harrison manufacturing company hasn't attained the role as the CEO after the death of his father."

He exhaled sharply and muttered something under his breath, possibly a curse. "I guess this ride is more meaningful than I thought," I added softly, my eyes still on him.

He didn't respond immediately. The road ahead was narrowing into a long stretch of trees and silence. Then, almost reluctantly, he said, "I didn't think you'd recognize me. Not many people do. I've kept a low profile for a reason."

I tilted my head. "Why?"

"Because the media is the least of my problems right now." He said, "I've got exactly 24 hours, less than a day, to find a woman who's willing to sign a marriage contract with me."

"Why? If I may ask." I asked, my voice barely above a whisper yet serious.

"If I don't, my father's legacy dies, my father's company, everything he worked for goes to my uncle, Jones."

I blinked. "You are serious?"

"As serious as death," he replied, his voice bitter. "My father's will was unconventional; he didn't believe in titles being passed to sons just because of blood." He paused to check his phone, which never stopped ringing.

"What do you mean?" I inquired.

"My dad believed in stability; in order for me to take full ownership, I need to be married and settled, his words."

"And if you're now married?"

"Then the board sides with Jones. And everything is gone, like my past."

I stared at him for a long moment. "This is an opportunity to get back at Alex and Diana; it's a way to be safe and rich." I mused thoughtfully to myself. "That paper on the dashboard, is that the contract?"

He gave a dry laugh. "Yeah. Drafted by my lawyer. It's all ready. Just missing a name and a signature."

His tone was casual, almost detached, but you could hear the desperation he was trying so hard to bury. His fingers gripped the wheel tighter as he continued, "I've had three potential candidates in the past month; all backed out. Some wanted real love, some wanted more money, and some just didn't want the spotlight."

"I let that sink in. A marriage contract isn't easy, but it's a good shot."

It sounded cold, but at the same time, I could almost relate. My inheritance, too, was locked behind conditions. A forced marriage, just like his. But mine came with betrayal, pain, and nearly cost me my life.

"So why haven't you given up?" I asked, my voice quiet.

He looked at me briefly, his eyes unexpectedly soft. "Because giving up means letting the man who destroyed my family take control of my father's legacy. Jones never cares about the company. All he wants is the power and the name, and he's not afraid to play dirty to get it."

I felt something stir in my chest: recognition and empathy. "How do you know someone won't just sign the contract for money and walk away the moment it benefits them?" I asked.

"I don't, and I don't care." He said honestly. "But I'd rather take a calculated risk than surrender everything to him."

We lapsed into silence again, but this time it wasn't awkward; it was heavy with realization, with shard wounds. I needed the power to regain myself.

After a few minutes, his car rolled to a slow stop in front of the Deluxe Hotel, the headlights cutting through the night like searchlights. The rain had stopped, but the air still smelled like a storm. I sat still for a moment, my fingers curled tightly around the strap of my bag, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest.

"I'm truly going to sign the contract or just let him face his problems and save mine." My mind began to play tricks on me continuously.

Neither of us spoke. The engine gave a soft hum, and the world outside felt eerily quiet. I don't want to be here. "I don't have to be with him. But my life had cornered me, and for now, there were no other options. Still, I refused to let him see the weight of my fears."

I pushed the door open and stepped out. The wind tugged at my hair as I slammed it shut behind me. I didn't glance back immediately; I couldn't. If I did. I might lose the tiny strength I had left.

I turned; he was still in the car, one hand on the steering wheel, watching me with that same unreadable expression he always wore as nothing ever touched him. As if I hadn't screamed at him just an hour ago. As if my world wasn't burning down and he wasn't the one holding the match.

"I hope you remember this," I said, my voice sharp and cold, cutting through the thick night air. "Because tomorrow..." I paused.

"Tomorrow will be a new day."

His jaw tensed. But still, he said nothing; that silence screamed louder than any apology could.

Without waiting for a reaction, I turned and disappeared inside the hotel lobby. Warm light washed over me as the door spun behind me, closing him out like a memory. My shoulders dropped just a little, but the storm inside me didn't stop.

Tomorrow, everything would change; it had to. I couldn't keep walking through fire just to protect someone who wouldn't even hand me water. "I'll write my future right tomorrow morning."