"I will never marry some spoiled rich heir! Don’t even dream about it!"

"Lilian! This is not up for discussion!" John Vain, the head of NewNews, shouted at his daughter.

"If that’s how it is, then don’t blame me for what happens next!"

"Lilian, don’t you dare!"

Before my father could finish his sentence, I slammed the door so hard I thought it might crack. My anger boiled over, and I felt like screaming at the world.

There was only one person I could turn to. Mark. My boyfriend. He’d always been there for me, and I was sure he wouldn’t abandon me now. He was my safe haven, a real gentleman.

I quickly rang him and after a few seconds, he picked up.

"Hello?" His tone was distant.

"Mark! It’s me. How are you?"

"Oh, hey, Lilian. I’m fine. What’s up?"

"Mark, I need to tell you something. My parents… They’re trying to force me into an arranged marriage. But don’t worry! I love you, and we’ll figure this out together."

"Lilian," he interrupted. His voice was colder now. "Don’t stress about it. Your father already talked to me. I’m not going to get in the way."

"What? What are you saying?"

"You should just go along with it. I don’t want to interfere."

"This is a joke, right? Mark, I’m your girlfriend!"

"You were, yeah. But let’s be honest. Dating you has been good, Lilian, but I’m not about to risk my career clashing with your father’s media empire. You get how dangerous journalists can be."

I felt the blood drain from my face.

"So… you’ve never really loved me, have you?"

"Uh, well… not exactly."

"Enough!" I shouted into the phone. "You’re nothing but a heartless jerk!"

I ended the call, my hand trembling as tears welled up in my eyes. My world felt like it was collapsing. First my father, and now Mark. I couldn’t believe how quickly everything had unraveled.

I tried calling my friends, desperate for comfort, but no one had time for me.

"Fine," I muttered, wiping my tears. "To hell with them all. I’m going to a club. I’ll drink and forget everything."

The Blue Tree Club, 8:00 PM

The neon lights flickered as I stepped inside. The club wasn’t exactly a high-end venue, but it was far enough from my usual haunts to avoid prying eyes.

"Good evening. What can I get you?"

The bartender was young, maybe 23, with light blond hair and piercing blue eyes. He looked like he’d stepped out of a magazine cover.

"Whiskey," I said curtly.

"Whiskey? That’s a strong choice," a voice chimed in from a nearby seat.

I turned to see a man leaning casually against the bar. He had a confident smirk, and his dark eyes gleamed with amusement.

"Why do you care?" I snapped.

He chuckled softly. "No reason. But if you end up passed out and stuffed into someone’s trunk, don’t expect me to rescue you."

"This won’t happen," I muttered, turning back to the bartender.

"Whiskey, please."

The bartender slid the glass toward me with a charming smile. "One whiskey for the lovely lady."

I downed it in one gulp, feeling the heat spread through my body. It took the edge off, so I ordered a second. Then a third. The bartender kept a close eye on me, but I barely noticed. I was too lost in my thoughts.

An Hour Later

The alcohol hit hard. When I tried to stand, the room spun, and I had to grip the counter for support.

"Are you alright?" The bartender was suddenly beside me, holding my arm to steady me.

"I… I might’ve overdone it," I mumbled.

"Let me help you," he said gently.

I didn’t have the strength to argue as he guided me toward the restroom.

"You should freshen up," he said, opening the door. "Here, let me assist you."

I stumbled to the sink, and he turned on the water, carefully rinsing my face. His hands were warm and steady as they brushed against my skin.

"You have such soft skin," he murmured.

His words sent a shiver down my spine, and when I looked up, his face was so close that I could feel his breath. My heart raced.

"I… I’m just feeling hot," I stammered, stepping back.

"You’re burning up," he said, brushing a hand against my cheek. His gaze was intense, and it made my knees weak.

"You’re stunning," he whispered.

My face burned as his voice grew softer. He leaned in closer, his hand resting lightly on my waist. My back pressed against the sink.

Suddenly, the door burst open.

"She’s not interested," a familiar voice growled.

I turned to see the man from the bar. His eyes blazed with fury as he stepped inside.

"She’s drunk. Back off."

I instinctively pushed the bartender away and stepped to the side.

"I don’t need your help!" I protested, though my voice lacked conviction.

"You’re coming with me," he said firmly.

Before I could argue further, he gently took my hand.

"Trust me," he said, his voice softer now.

For reasons I couldn’t explain, I followed him. Glancing back at the bartender, I saw that he didn’t seem to care how things ended.

"Seriously?" I thought. "He just brushes it off after humiliating me like that?"

Without thinking, I took off one of my sneakers and hurled it at him.

"Take that, you jerk!"

LITARCHIVE