Chapter 10: The Proposal Planning
Ethan was twenty-three now, and for the first time in his life, he felt like a man with something to prove.
Not to the world—he'd already done that, graduating near the top of his class at Cambridge, securing a position at Leo Industries that would begin in just a few weeks. No, this was different. This was personal. This was about the girl with honey-brown eyes who had been waiting for him all these years.
Serene was seventeen now—still so young, still so innocent, but no longer a child. She had bloomed in the years since that first kiss in the greenhouse, growing into a quiet beauty that made his chest ache every time he saw her. Her long brown hair fell in soft waves past her shoulders, and her smile—when she allowed herself to smile—could light up an entire room.
He wanted to marry her.
The thought had taken root during his last year at university, growing stronger with every letter she sent, every pressed flower she included, every whispered "I miss you" scrawled in her elegant handwriting. He'd lain awake many nights in his Cambridge flat, staring at the ceiling, imagining a future where she was beside him every morning and every night.
Now, with graduation behind him and his position at Leo Industries secured, the time had come.
---
The Leo estate was quieter than usual that evening. Ethan had requested a private dinner with his parents—just the three of them—and the formality of it had put everyone on edge.
Diyen Leo, Ethan's father, was a tall, imposing man with the same forest-green eyes he'd passed to his son. He'd built Leo Industries from the ground up, forging partnerships with families like the Frosts to create an empire that spanned continents. He was not a man easily surprised.
Ethan's mother, Celeste, was softer—warm where her husband was stern, gentle where he was sharp. She had always loved Ethan unconditionally, and she sensed immediately that something important was coming.
"Ethan," she said as they settled into the formal dining room, "you're unusually quiet tonight. What's on your mind?"
Ethan set down his wine glass, meeting first his mother's concerned gaze, then his father's calculating one.
"I want to marry Serene Frost."
The words hung in the air like a declaration of war.
Celeste's eyes widened. Diyen's expression didn't change, but something shifted in his posture—a slight straightening, a sharpening of attention.
"Serene?" Celeste repeated carefully. "Samuel's… other daughter?"
"His eldest," Ethan confirmed. "His only daughter by blood."
Diyen leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "She's seventeen, Ethan."
"I'm aware of her age."
"Seventeen," Diyen repeated. "And you're twenty-three. That's—"
"Six years," Ethan interrupted calmly. "I can do math, Father. I'm not asking for your permission to marry her tomorrow. I'm asking for your blessing to court her properly, to wait until she's of age, and then to ask for her hand."
Celeste exchanged a glance with her husband. "Ethan, we've known the Frosts for years. Samuel is my cousin's husband's business partner—there are connections, family ties. But Serene…" She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "She's always been so quiet. So… in the background."
"Because her stepmother and stepsister have spent years pushing her there," Ethan said, a hint of steel entering his voice. "You don't know her the way I do. You don't know how strong she is, how kind, how brave. You don't know that she presses flowers in books and writes poetry in journals and can identify any plant in the greenhouse by its Latin name. You don't know that she's survived cruelty that would have broken most people and still finds reasons to smile."
The passion in his voice silenced the room.
Celeste's eyes softened. She'd never heard her son speak about anyone like this—not the city girls he'd briefly dated, not the debutantes introduced at society events, not anyone.
Diyen, however, remained unmoved. "This isn't just about feelings, Ethan. This is about alliances, about family names, about—"
"About love?" Ethan interrupted, his green eyes flashing. "Does that count for nothing?"
Silence stretched between them.
Finally, Diyen spoke, his voice measured. "The Frost family has two daughters. Ava is—"
"I don't want Ava." Ethan's voice was flat, final. "I never have. I want Serene. Only Serene."
Another long pause.
Celeste reached across the table, covering her son's hand with her own. "You really love her."
It wasn't a question.
"Yes," Ethan said simply. "I've loved her since we were children. I'll love her until I die. There's no one else. There never has been."
Celeste looked at her husband, her eyes glistening. "Diyen…"
Diyen studied his son for a long, uncomfortable moment. Then, slowly, the corners of his mouth twitched upward.
"You're more like me than I realized," he said quietly. "I chased your mother for two years before she agreed to marry me. Everyone said we were too young, too different, too foolish." He glanced at Celeste with an expression Ethan had rarely seen—pure, unguarded love. "They were wrong."
Ethan's heart surged.
"Age gap aside," Diyen continued, "Serene is Samuel's daughter. That carries weight. The Frost name, the connections… it's not a bad match. Not bad at all."
"You'll give your blessing?" Ethan asked, hardly daring to hope.
Diyen nodded slowly. "On one condition."
"Name it."
"Wait until she's eighteen. Court her properly, openly, with respect. No secrets, no sneaking around. If you truly love her, you'll prove it by doing this right."
Relief flooded through Ethan like a tidal wave. "I can do that. I will do that."
Celeste rose from her chair, circling the table to embrace her son. "My brave boy," she whispered. "Following your heart. I'm so proud of you."
Ethan hugged her back, his eyes stinging with unexpected emotion. For the first time, the future felt real—tangible, achievable, within reach.
---
The formal dinner was arranged for the following week.
Both families gathered in the Leo estate's grand dining room—a space of crystal chandeliers, mahogany tables, and oil paintings of ancestors long past. The Frosts arrived in their finest: Samuel in a tailored charcoal suit, Amelia in emerald silk that matched her calculating eyes, Ava in a gown of pale pink that made her look every inch the eligible young lady.
And Serene.
Serene wore a simple lavender dress, the colour of devotion and silence. Her long brown hair was pinned back with a silver clip, and the moonstone pendant rested against her collarbone, hidden beneath the fabric but present nonetheless. She sat quietly, as always, her honey-brown eyes darting occasionally toward Ethan.
Ethan, for his part, could barely look away from her.
The dinner proceeded with the usual formalities—polite conversation about business, weather, the upcoming holiday season. But underneath the surface, currents moved that only a few understood.
Finally, as dessert was served, Diyen cleared his throat.
"Samuel," he said, his voice carrying easily across the table, "my son has something he wishes to discuss with you. A matter of some importance."
All eyes turned to Ethan.
He rose from his chair, his gaze finding Serene's immediately. Her eyes widened, confusion flickering across her features. She had no idea what was coming.
Ethan crossed to where Samuel sat, standing before him with the bearing of a man who knew exactly what he wanted.
"Mr. Frost," he said formally, "I've known your daughter Serene since we were children. I've watched her grow into a remarkable young woman—kind, intelligent, brave beyond measure. I've loved her for longer than I can remember, and I would be honored to have your permission to court her with the intention of marriage, when she comes of age."
Silence.
Absolute, deafening silence.
Serene's face went pale, then flooded with colour. Her hands flew to her mouth, her honey-brown eyes shimmering with unshed tears. She looked from Ethan to her father, hardly daring to breathe.
Samuel Frost studied Ethan for a long moment. His expression was unreadable—a mask carved from years of business negotiations and carefully hidden emotions. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face.
"Ethan Leo," he said warmly, "I've known you since you were a boy climbing trees in my garden. I've watched you grow into a fine young man. And I've seen the way you look at my daughter." He glanced at Serene, something flickering in his eyes—regret? Guilt? It was gone before anyone could name it. "You have my permission."
Serene's breath escaped in a soft sob.
Ethan's smile was blinding. "Thank you, sir. You won't regret it."
"I'd better not," Samuel replied, but there was no heat in it. He rose, extending his hand. Ethan shook it firmly.
The room erupted in polite applause. Celeste dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. Diyen nodded approvingly.
But not everyone was pleased.
---
Back at the Frost estate, the atmosphere was very different.
The moment the front door closed behind them, Amelia's composure shattered.
"Serene?" she hissed, rounding on her husband. "He wants Serene? Not Ava? Our Ava, who is beautiful and charming and everything a Leo wife should be? He chooses that—that ghost?"
Samuel removed his coat slowly, deliberately. "He chose Serene. There's nothing to be done about it."
"Nothing to be done?" Amelia's voice rose dangerously. "I've spent years preparing Ava for a match like this! Years! And now that little—that mouse—steals it from under her nose?"
Ava stood in the corner, her face twisted with humiliation and fury. "She doesn't deserve him," she spat. "She doesn't deserve anything. She's nothing."
Samuel's eyes narrowed, but his voice remained calm. "Careful, Ava. Serene is still my daughter."
"Your daughter?" Amelia laughed bitterly. "You've barely acknowledged her since her mother died. Don't pretend to care now."
Something dark flickered across Samuel's face—there and gone, like a shadow passing over water.
"I have a plan," he said quietly.
--
In the shadows of the hallway, unseen and unheard, Serene stood frozen.
She had followed them downstairs, needing a glass of water, needing a moment to process the evening's events. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop. But now, pressed against the wall, her heart pounding, she wished she hadn't heard any of it.
Her father's words echoed in her mind like a warning bell.
I have a plan that will ensure this marriage benefits us exactly as it should.
What plan? What did he mean?
And why did his smile look so much like a threat?
She crept back upstairs, her lavender dress whispering against the carpet, her mind racing with questions she was afraid to answer. In her room, she pulled out the leather journal Ethan had given her and wrote with shaking hands:
Something is wrong. I don't know what, but something is wrong. Father is planning something—something that involves Ethan, involves me, involves all of us. I'm scared.
She pressed the moonstone pendant to her lips, whispering into the darkness:
"I hope you meant what you said, Ethan. Because I think we're going to need it."
---
In his own room across the hedge, Ethan lay awake, staring at the ceiling with a smile he couldn't suppress.
He'd done it. He'd actually done it.
Permission granted. Future secured. Serene, officially, would be his.
He reached for the pressed-flower bookmark she'd given him years ago, tracing the delicate petals with his fingertips. Forget-me-nots. Lavender. Cornflower.
Devotion. Silence. Remembrance.
"I love you, Little Moon," he whispered into the darkness. "And I'll spend the rest of my life proving it."
He had no idea what plans were already turning in the shadows of the Frost estate. No idea that the man who'd given his blessing so easily was already calculating how to use that blessing against them.
All he knew was the warmth in his chest, the hope in his heart, and the certainty that tomorrow, he would see her again.
Tomorrow, everything would be perfect.
---
But tomorrow, as Serene knew too well, never came without its shadows.
And the darkest ones were yet to fall.