As I turned the key to my house, a blend of relief and apprehension washed over me.
Yes, I had actually made the choice to live alone after returning from my intensive, life-altering training sessions.
It was a decision that felt empowering yet daunting, like staring out at a vast ocean before taking the plunge.
Graduating from university at the tender age of 18 was a milestone that many would celebrate, but little did anyone know that my father had a secret plan up his sleeve.
In his quest to ensure my safety in an increasingly dangerous world, he discreetly enrolled me in a defense school.
For weeks on end, I had been training rigorously, honing skills that ranged from self-defense techniques to mastering the art of marksmanship.
I had encountered a myriad of characters there, all of whom had their unique stories, and even formed bonds with fellow trainees who shared a common goal.
Yet, amidst all this personal growth and camaraderie, one nagging question loomed over me: why was my father concealing this significant aspect of my life from everyone? Time was ticking away, and I realized I had less than 48 hours before I would have to make a decision regarding marriage. The thought echoed in my mind, a whisper hinting at both urgency and fate.
"A tough girl…" I murmured to myself, pondering the type of woman I truly needed by my side. Every girl I had encountered so far seemed to be enamored with either my looks, my family's wealth, or both. It left me feeling hollow, as if they had only fallen in love with an image rather than the man underneath.
Where on earth could I find a tough girl, someone who was distinct and unyielding in character, to stand beside me in this tumultuous journey? This became my quest, a mystery I felt compelled to solve.
As my fingers glided over the screen of my phone, scanning through names and contacts, one particular name caught my eye, The Michaelsons.
The mere mention of that family sent shivers down my spine. They had long been adversaries of my father, a relationship marred by betrayal and hurt.
Although my father, ever the benevolent soul, had graciously extended forgiveness to his former best friend, my heart harbored none of that mercy.
Their actions against him had left scars that could never heal in my mind, and in my eyes, the sins of the father would inevitably be visited upon the daughter.
I recalled the stubborn woman who bore the Michaelson name, and a devious idea began to take shape in my mind.
What better way to exact my revenge than to marry their daughter? In doing so, I would not only reclaim my family's honor but also make her pay for the sins committed by her father.
The thought both thrilled and repulsed me, but I was determined to see it through.
I swiftly dialed Reid, my fiercely loyal bodyguard and confidant. He had seen me grow into the man I was destined to be, standing beside me through thick and thin.
"Ensure the Michaelson family goes bankrupt in five minutes," I instructed, my voice steady and resolute.
"Yes, boss," he replied, his tone one of compliance and understanding, ready to execute my orders without question.
As the minutes ticked away, I felt the gravity of my decisions weighing heavily upon me. Just twenty minutes later, as if on cue, my phone buzzed to life, and a familiar name illuminated the screen, Joel Michaelson.
A smirk curled at the corners of my lips as I answered.
"Joel Michaelson, to what do I owe the pleasure of your sudden call?" I asked, feigning innocence even as the tension crackled between us.
"Killian, you withdrew the Drakes' cooperation with the Michaelsons. Why?" he demanded, irritation clear in his voice.
"Did you hear any news about my father?" I countered, curiosity laced in my tone.
"No, of course not," he replied, his tone tinged with disbelief. I couldn't help but chuckle at the naïveté of it all.
"Alright, suit yourself," I said, the words slipping smoothly from my mouth as I severed the connection.
This was only the beginning, and I could almost taste the impending chaos that was about to unfold.