The sleek black car glided smoothly along Vancouver's neon-lit streets. Inside, the silence was so heavy that even the hum of the engine sounded like an anxious heartbeat.
Dyana Rosey sat in the back seat beside Mr. Michael. In front, his personal driver, Mr. Harris, a man in his late fifties, drove with careful precision. Every now and then, he glanced at the rearview mirror, noting the tense faces in the back, but quickly lowered his gaze again. He knew when it was best to stay silent.
Mr. Michael leaned back, his expression grim. His fingers tapped rhythmically on his knee a small, steady sound that betrayed the anger he was trying to suppress.
Dyana Rosey hadn't spoken since they entered the car. Her eyes were fixed on the window, watching the city lights reflect off the rain-slicked streets, while her heart felt shrouded in darkness.
Minutes passed.
Finally, Mr. Michael spoke calm, yet sharp like a cold blade against skin.
"How do you know him?"
Dyana Rosey slowly lifted her gaze, but before she could answer—
"Don't tell me you don't know him," Mr. Michael continued. "I'm not blind, Dyana Rosey. He hugged you in public and declared you his fiancée."
His tone was controlled, but far more frightening than a shout.
Dyana Rosey bit her lip, holding back tears. "I don't know him, Papa. I swear… he came to find me. I don't even know why he—"
Mr. Michael turned sharply to look at her, his eyes piercing.
"You think I'll believe that? A man like Marchos Alexander doesn't chase anyone without a reason. I know him. You must have done something."
"Papa!" Dyana's voice rose, trembling with hurt and anger. "I didn't do anything! I don't know him, and I never asked him to—"
"Enough!" Mr. Michael snapped.
"I already lost my wife because of you. Don't let it be your dignity next. Don't you dare tarnish our family's name!"
Those words struck Dyana Rosey's heart like a falling stone from the sky. Tears streamed down her cheeks uncontrollably. She bowed her head, clutching the small bag on her lap, trying to stifle her sobs.
At the front, Mr. Harris tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He heard every word, but pretended not to.
In his aged eyes, he knew the girl was innocent. But he was just the driver so he had no right to speak.
The car moved on through the heavy silence. Outside, the Vancouver sky was shrouded in drizzle, and the sound of raindrops on the windshield seemed to echo the deepening sorrow in Dyana Rosey's heart.
The night air was cold and damp, laced with the faint scent of lavender from the small garden in front of the Michael family mansion. Dyana Rosey stood motionless before the grand entrance, her heart pounding erratically. The house was just as she remembered majestic, serene, but heavy with painful memories.
The main door slowly opened. An elderly man, neatly dressed in a black suit and white gloves, appeared. His dim eyes widened in disbelief at the sight of the young woman before him
"Miss Dyana… is it really you, Miss Dyana?" his trembling voice asked, filled with emotion.
Dyana Rosey covered her mouth, trying to hold back tears. Her eyes glistened.
"Uncle. Gray…" she whispered softly.
Without realizing it, they both stepped forward. Dyana Rosey wrapped her arms tightly around the old man, as if embracing all the beautiful memories that time had stolen. Mr. Gray closed his eyes, his hands gently gripping her shoulders.
"I've waited a long time for this day, Miss Dyana," he said quietly. "I knew one day, the little girl who used to run through this garden would come home again."
Dyana Rosey smiled through her tears, wiping them away with trembling fingers. "I've missed everything, Mr. Gray. I've missed this house, that garden… and you."
Mr. Gray chuckled softly, his warmth unchanged. "Ah, Miss Dyana is still the same gentle and sweet. But now you've grown into a beautiful young woman."
He looked at her proudly, as though gazing at his own daughter. To him, Dyana Rosey had always been more than just the daughter of his employer. She was the little light that once brightened this quiet house.
"Come in, Miss," Mr. Gray invited kindly.
Dyana Rosey took a deep breath, her eyes sweeping over the long hallway that once echoed with her childhood footsteps. The mansion was as grand as ever, but the atmosphere… felt cold and foreign.
Yet Mr. Gray's embrace had been enough to make her heart feel, if only for a moment, that she still had a place to call home.
Her steps were slow as she ascended the stairs to the upper floor of the mansion. The sound of her heels echoed faintly down the silent corridor. Each step brought back memories she had buried for years but that night, they all came rushing back.
She stopped before a cream-colored door. Her hand hesitated before turning the knob.
As the door opened, a soft lavender scent familiar and nostalgic greeted her.
The room was exactly the same as before: white lace curtains, a small desk by the window, and a bed covered in pale blue sheets. It was as if time had never touched it.
But Dyana Rosey's gaze froze on a photo frame atop the dressing table. Slowly, she walked toward it.
In the picture was a woman with soft blonde hair Giselle. Her smile was warm, her eyes tender, as though still alive, still watching Dyana Rosey with love.
Dyana Rosey ran her trembling fingers over the frame.
"Ma…" her voice cracked, barely a whisper.
Tears began to stream down her cheeks. She sat on the edge of the bed, clutching the picture frame tightly to her chest.
"Mom… Rosey misses you. I miss you so much…" she whispered between sobs.
Her crying echoed softly through the room, blending with the whisper of the wind from the open window.
She lowered her head, her shoulders trembling as she tried to hold back her grief.
"If you were still here, Mom… none of this would've happened. Dad wouldn't hate me. Everything wouldn't be this hard…"
Her eyes were red, and her lips quivered as she tried to stifle her cries. She closed her eyes tightly, wishing that somehow, in the darkness behind her lids, she could hear her mother's voice again the gentle voice that used to calm her, the voice that now lived only in her memories.
"Rosey promises, Mom…" she whispered faintly. "Rosey will be strong. For you."
She pressed a gentle kiss on the photo before placing it back on the table.
But Giselle's face in the photograph lingered in her mind a small light in the darkness that now surrounded her life.
***
The morning in Vancouver looked gloomy, the sky gray, and the air heavy with a cold that bit to the bone. Outside the Mega Holdings building, a black Bentley stopped with elegant precision. The back door was opened by a burly bodyguard, and out stepped Marchos Alexander, dressed impeccably in a dark gray suit, his expression calm, yet carrying an unmistakable aura of danger.
Inside the meeting room on the twentieth floor, Mr. Michael was already waiting. His brow was furrowed, his sharp eyes fixed on the watch around his wrist. His heart was full of suspicion and tension. He knew the man he was about to meet was not an ordinary person.
The door opened. Marchos Alexander entered, calm and confident.
Beside him stood a man in a perfectly tailored black suit and dark sunglasses ,Mr. Jack.
Mr. Michael sat in his leather chair, his face calm but his eyes watchful, studying every movement of the man before him. This was no ordinary businessman. Marchos Alexander was a name that had become the talk of the corporate world and also one whispered in darker circles.
"So… this is the real reason behind your visit to my company?" Mr. Michael finally broke the silence.
Marchos Alexander leaned back slightly, his fingers playing with the ring on his hand. "I don't like wasting time with small talk, Mr. Michael. I'm here for business."
Mr. Michael pressed his lips together. "Then get to the point."
Marchos Alexander smiled faintly, a smile that carried something difficult to define, a mix between threat and absolute confidence.
Mr. Jack glanced at his boss briefly before opening the black folder he carried. Inside were several sheets of financial documents belonging to Mega Holdings Mr. Michael's company.
"Your company seems to be facing a few… complications with its investments in Canada and Japan," Mr. Jack said in a professional but sharp tone. "Mega Holdings is in a financial crisis. I know about the falling shares, the failed projects, and… the banks beginning to reject loan extensions."
Mr. Michael froze. He hadn't expected Marchos Alexander to strike directly at the heart of his company's troubles.
"How did you know all this?" he asked quietly.
Marchos Alexander crossed his arms, his eyes gleaming with quiet satisfaction. "I know more than you think, Mr. Michael. And I can help you."
"Help?" Mr. Michael repeated cynically. "Or are you here to buy me out?"
Marchos Alexander chuckled softly. "Think of it as a partnership. Sky Corporation can take over thirty percent of Mega Holdings' shares. I'll inject capital to stabilize operations, clear your debts, and raise the company's market value. Within six months, Mega Holdings will shine again."
"And in return?" Mr. Michael's voice was hoarse with restrained anger.
Marchos Alexander leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady. "In return… I want Dyana Rosey," he said slowly but firmly enough that the entire room seemed to stop breathing.
"Dyana Rosey will be my wife."
Mr. Michael clenched his jaw. "Nonsense."
"No," Marchos Alexander replied calmly. "I'm just a businessman. And Dyana Rosey… is my guarantee. Without her, this deal doesn't exist.
If this report reaches the media or your main investors, I'm afraid… Mega Holdings' reputation will crumble within months."
Mr. Michael was stunned. "You think I'd sell my own daughter just to save the company?"
Marchos Alexander let out a low, humorless laugh. "Not sell, Mr. Michael. Let's call it an agreement. You get to save the empire you've built your whole life… and I get what I want."
The tension in the room grew thick. Mr. Jack closed the folder carefully, standing straight beside his employer as if to confirm that there was no way out of the offer.
Mr. Michael rose from his seat, glaring at Marchos Alexander with fury barely contained. "And if I refuse?"
Marchos Alexander adjusted his jacket, his faint smile returning. "Then, within three days, Mega Holdings will be history. And the name Michael will vanish from the business world forever."
Mr. Michael stood tall behind the glass table covered in documents and files. His fists clenched at his sides, his eyes locked on Marchos Alexander who sat relaxed in the leather chair, as though he were enjoying the tension that filled the air.
"Be honest with me, Alexander," Mr. Michael said, his voice trembling slightly but firm. "Why do you want my daughter?"
Marchos Alexander lifted his gaze slowly. A faint smile formed on his lips. "Mr. Michael… you make it sound as if Rosey were a commodity."
"Don't play games with me," Mr. Michael snapped, slamming his palm on the table. "I know you're not the kind of man who does anything without a reason. You didn't go after my daughter by coincidence."
Marchos Alexander leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly on the tabletop. His calm, unwavering gaze made the air in the room feel heavy.
"I'm drawn to her," he said quietly, every word deliberate. "She's… special."
"Don't toy with me, Alexander." Mr. Michael's voice rose, his eyes reddened with anger. "You think I don't know who you are? How many people have you destroyed in the name of business and power? I won't let my daughter become another one of your victims!"
Marchos Alexander stood slowly, his dominant presence filling the space. It felt as though the air itself thickened with his intensity.
"Calm down," he said, his voice low but sharp. "I don't need your blessing to approach Rosey. But I respect you as her father that's why I came here personally, instead of using… my usual methods."
Mr. Michael narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean by that?"
Marchos Alexander leaned in slightly, his face now just inches from Mr. Michael's. "I mean… When I want something, I usually get it. But for Dyana Rosey, I'm willing to wait."
His tone wasn't loud but yet it was enough to make Mr. Michael's blood boil.
"I won't let you touch my daughter," Mr. Michael said coldly, each word like burning steel.
Mr. Jack gave a small bow. "We'll await your decision within three days, Mr. Michael."
The two men then turned and left leaving Mr. Michael frozen in place, his hands trembling with anger and fear.