# Chapter 4 **WINNIE** I’ve always been a naturally quiet person, preferring the soothing cadence of others’ conversations to the clamor of my own voice. But there are moments when silence falters, when even the most unassuming girl like me finds herself utterly speechless. This is one of those moments. I blink rapidly, attempting to discern whether I’m trapped in some surreal nightmare. Perhaps I’m still cocooned in my bed, lost in a dreamscape with Blake lying beside me, unaware of the upheaval unfolding around me. Almost instinctively, I slide my hand to my thigh and pinch, desperately seeking confirmation of reality. Pain blooms at my touch, sharp and undeniable. I’m awake. As I grapple with the situation at hand, I can feel the piercing stares of my father and Archer, both waiting with bated breath for me to utter something—anything. My mouth goes dry, nerves constricting around my throat as I finally manage to speak. “What? I’m not getting married to anyone.” Archer, with his unnerving composure, has the audacity to smirk. It’s a grin that chills me to the bone, filled with a deliberate coolness that sends shivers running down my spine. I reach for my thigh once more, pinching to reassure myself that I’m indeed awake. “You won’t be marrying just anyone. You’ll be marrying me. Tomorrow.” His words drip with the authority of someone who believes this is a foregone conclusion, a truth so self-evident that it requires no elaboration. A strangled sound escapes my throat, drawing a disapproving glare from my father. “Tomorrow?” I echo, though my voice wavers, each syllable heavy with disbelief. What in the world is happening? My family vehemently opposes the Moores. There’s no way my father would permit me to marry Archer. He’s pushed for a prestigious match from the moment I started dating. This cannot be the arrangement he actually endorses. I pause, hoping one of them will provide clarification, but the silence stretches on unbearably. Taking a deep, shaky breath, I pull myself together, though my vision blurs and heat creeps into my cheeks. I can only pray they don’t notice how close I am to fainting. “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand. I thought I was here to discuss Blake. What does my marrying Archer have to do with Blake?” At the mere mention of Blake’s name, I notice Archer’s fingers twitch, and the muscles in his jaw tighten as annoyance seeps through him. “I expected you to inform her of the arrangements before I arrived,” he snaps, glaring at my father as if he’s the architect of this calamity. My father remains unfazed, an iron facade set firmly in place as his gaze meets mine, disappointment burning in his eyes. “She was late; you were early. I didn’t have time.” I’ve learned never to speak out of turn to my father, respecting the delicate balance of our relationship. Yet, overwhelmed and desperate for clarity, I can’t help but question him. “Dad, what’s going on? I’m not marrying him. I don’t understand.” “You’ve given me no choice!” he erupts, the force of his voice making me jump. My heart races as he rises abruptly, chair scraping the floor, leaning over the desk as if trying to impose his will by proximity. In a protective gesture, Archer places his hand on the armrest of my chair, tension crackling in the air as my father’s anger mounts, a vein pulsating violently on his forehead. “Because you were reckless enough to involve yourself with one of my employees—someone I would never approve of—I’m now backed into a corner with no other options.” I swallow hard, sitting tight, choosing to keep my tongue in check, knowing any retort would only stoke his fury. Deep down, I want to scream that my father scrutinizes the background of every employee. While it was probably unwise to engage with someone in the family's employment, I’d never expected Blake to betray me like this. “Can you tell it’s me?” I whisper, dread coiling tightly in my stomach. “It was…dark.” My mind flashes to last night, the memories now tainted by this intrusion. “I didn’t see any cameras. He didn’t tell me. Isn’t that illegal?” Archer’s movements are almost instinctive, drawing my chair closer to him, a subtle shift that disarms me completely. Our legs nearly brush, and an unexpected warmth spreads through me at his proximity. I can hardly fathom why he’s acting this way; we may be strangers, but in this moment, he feels like an ally amid the storm. “Don’t you think I’ve already thought of that?” my father interjects with a bitterness that chills the room. He sinks back into his chair, as if surrendering to a reality he detests. “My people have looked. He had a hidden camera, and you can tell it’s you on there. If we go to the police, the media will be all over it in an instant.” Shame washes over me like a cold wave. I never consented for Blake to record us. I can feel the repulsion creep under my skin at the thought of that video existing—proof of a moment that was meant to be ours, twisted into something monstrous. Archer clears his throat, leaning forward, his demeanor shifting as he draws nearer. The warmth from his thigh ignites an unsettling mixture of comfort and confusion. Why is he doing this? Why does he care? “No one touches my family,” Archer states firmly, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. I can’t bear to meet his gaze, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. How many eyes have feasted upon what should never have seen the light of day? The idea of that video spreading fills me with dread. “That has nothing to do with me,” I respond, my gaze glued to my lap where our legs brush against one another. “Actually, it has everything to do with you,” Archer replies, his tone unwavering. “If you’re my wife, Blake won’t release that tape. He’s foolish, but not completely brainless. My family’s connections run deep. Any publication that dares to publish anything detrimental about my family—my new wife included—will face dire consequences.” A growing weight settles in my chest, crushing my spirit under the enormity of this predicament. “We can’t just get married tomorrow to fix this problem,” I stammer, disbelief lacing my voice. Archer’s dark eyebrow arches, an incredulous spark in his eyes. “Of course, it fixes the problem. When you’re my wife, I dare anyone to try and harm what’s mine.” The sunlight streaming through the towering office windows highlights his dark hair, each strand a harmonious mix of browns and blacks, capturing an unyielding intensity that draws me in. My stomach churns at his assertion—when you’re my wife. The thought of stepping into that role sends shivers down my spine. I’ve fought too hard to avoid being anyone’s trophy, to have my identity defined by a man—especially this man. Suddenly it all clicks into place. My father, desperate to shield our name, knows the Moores wield formidable influence in this industry. They possess power that most fear. And perhaps marrying Archer is the only route left to salvage my dignity. I glance at my father, searching for a flicker of understanding in his expression. I know he loathes the thought of aligning with the Moores, but the stakes are impossibly high. Archer, on the other hand, stands to gain tremendous power from this union. There’s no way I can be his preferred choice—I can feel the weight of that truth settle uncomfortably in my heart. “What’s the deal? What do you get in return?” I blurt out, my hand flying to my mouth as I realize I’ve spoken my thoughts aloud. At my unintended inquiry, Archer lets out a low chuckle, his amusement palpable as his gaze locks onto mine. I hadn’t meant to direct that question at him, yet he’s the one who responds with unapologetic bravado. “A lot,” he says confidently, a hint of mischief lacing his words. “The Moores will now sit on the Bishop Hotels board, and we’ll gain thirty percent ownership of everything.” A small gasp escapes my lips, my eyes darting back to my father—an ocean of betrayal in the depths of his gaze. “You don’t have to do this. I’ll talk to Blake. I’ll convince him to change his mind.” “You’ll do no such thing,” my father interjects sharply, anger radiating from every pore. Archer shifts, the warmth of his body dissipating as our legs no longer touch. A chill rushes in, leaving me feeling exposed and jittery. “Think about it—it could work. Maybe…” I hesitate, but the doubts linger like shadows. I don’t even know who Blake truly is anymore. “Maybe something went wrong, and if I just talk to him—” “No,” Archer states flatly, a finality in his voice that rings loud and clear. He isn’t used to being challenged, and I sense the full weight of his authority bearing down on me. He is the sole heir to the Moore legacy, accustomed to having his words become commands. But I stand resolute, a romantic at heart longing for a love that ignites passion and depth—a stark contrast to this calculated transaction. I refuse to accept a path that binds me to a man I’ve been taught to resent, all just to escape a predicament created by misplaced trust. I will find another way.