WebNovels

Chapter 2 - The Weight of Her Name

I didn't go straight home after saying deal.

The city was half-asleep.

Glass towers still glowing, streets humming like they were thinking too hard.

I drove without a plan until I ended up at my grandmother's house.

Habit, maybe. Or instinct.

Every time I made a reckless decision, I somehow came here, like the old walls could talk me out of it.

The gate still creaked the same way it always had, stubborn and tired.

Inside, the air smelled faintly of lavender and old paper. Her scent. Still clinging to the corners, like the house refused to let her go.

I slipped off my heels by the door and walked to her study.

The room hadn't changed.

Stacks of folders lined the desk, each labeled in her sharp handwriting. The old fountain pen sat neatly beside a framed photo of her.

Young, fierce, confident.

People used to say I looked like her. I never saw it until now. Maybe because tonight, for the first time, I understood her.

"Softness makes you foolish," she used to say. Her eyes always sharp behind her glasses. Then she'd smile a little, like she didn't mean it. Maybe she never wanted me to be cold, just strong enough to survive.

Back then, I'd roll my eyes. Now the memory hit differently.

I sat in her chair, spinning the pen between my fingers. The silence pressed against me, thick and familiar. The kind of silence that made you think too much.

What would she say if she saw me now?

Marrying a man I barely knew because it made sense on paper.

She'd probably raise an eyebrow, pour herself tea, and tell me strength came in many forms, including signatures.

I reached for the drawer on her desk. It stuck halfway, same as always. I tugged harder until it gave in. Inside was an envelope with my name on it.

Reign,

If you're reading this, it means I'm gone, and you're still pretending you don't need anyone. Love isn't weakness. It's the test of it. You'll want to run. Don't. Remember: softness is a choice, not a flaw.

— Lola E.

I read it twice before breathing again.

Typical her, turning affection into a lecture.

I smiled a little. "Still bossing me around, huh?"

The paper trembled slightly in my hands. Maybe it was me.

I folded it neatly and put it back, setting her photo straight on the desk. She looked like she already knew the chaos I was about to create and was somehow amused by it.

"I'll protect what you built," I whispered. It wasn't a promise. It was a vow.

Across the city, Callisto Maxim was probably already drafting contracts, calling lawyers, setting meetings. And me? I was sitting in a dark study, reading ghost letters and trying to convince myself that marrying him wasn't completely insane.

The thought made me laugh softly. A hollow sound.

Who was I kidding? It was insane.

I leaned back in her chair, letting the leather creak under me.

The city lights bled through the curtains, washing everything in gold. For a second, I swore I saw her reflection in the window—watching me, shaking her head with that look that meant "You're your mother's daughter."

Maybe this wasn't about love.

Maybe it was about duty—wearing love's skin.

But it felt heavy. Real. Like a weight I'd chosen to carry.

I closed my eyes and pictured her hands guiding mine, steady and sure.

That's what I needed to be. Steady.

No matter what kind of storm I'd just invited.

Something creaked in the hallway. I froze, heart skipping once. Just the house, settling. Still, I laughed softly at myself. I could face shareholders and lawyers, but not old floorboards.

I reached for another box on the desk—the one she used for keepsakes. Inside were photos, ticket stubs, a pressed flower, and another folded note.

Control what you can. Let the rest teach you. Love, life, family. It can be messy. And that's okay.

— Lola E.

Messy.

She was right. I just hated that word.

But maybe, to survive this plan I'd thrown myself into, I'd have to get comfortable with a little mess.

Strategically, of course.

I rubbed my temples and imagined tomorrow.

Callisto's email. The lawyers. The signatures. The pretending.

I could already see the headlines if this ever leaked:

'Heiress Marries CEO in Secret Deal.'

Scandal. Speculation. Chaos.

I sighed. "You better be worth the drama, Maxim."

My phone buzzed.

No message. Just a low battery warning flashing across the screen.

Fitting.

I stood and walked to the window, staring down at the city.

Somewhere in that glow, he was probably thinking through the same logic I was.

Cold, practical, necessary.

We were two people doing the same thing for different reasons.

It almost made sense.

Almost.

"I'll do it," I said softly to the glass. "For her. For what she built."

The reflection staring back looked steadier than I felt.

I wasn't doing this for love. Or greed.

I was doing it for legacy.

The house creaked again, like it disagreed.

I took that as permission.

I turned off the light, letting the city glow spill across the room.

Tomorrow would bring the reality.

The emails, contracts, signatures, and that infuriatingly calm man who somehow made yes sound like a challenge.

For tonight, I let myself breathe.

Maybe I'd made the smartest move of my life.

Or maybe I'd just stepped into the kind of storm my grandmother warned me about.

Either way, there was no turning back now.

~~

By morning, the city was already awake when my phone buzzed.

A single message from Callisto.

Callisto Maxim: 9 AM. Café Verona. Bring your ID.

Of course he didn't bother with a greeting.

I stared at the screen for a moment, half laughing, half terrified.

He actually meant it.

I grabbed my coat and keys, whispering to the empty room,

"Fine. Let's see how practical you really are."

And just like that, I walked out of my grandmother's house.

Straight into whatever this new version of my life was going to be.

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