Chapter 3: Proposing on the Street

"Dad, Mom, please don't do this to me! I don't want to marry a cripple!"

Ariella pounded her fists against the storage room door. Her eyes brimmed with hot tears as she begged for mercy, but no one responded. The silence of the house was deafening. Weak and exhausted, she slid down the door until she collapsed onto the floor. Her gaze shifted desperately around the small, cramped space until it landed on the narrow window.

She weighed barely eighty-eight pounds. If she pushed herself hard enough, she could squeeze through that gap.

Nearby, a sleek Rolls-Royce glided through the streets. Inside the luxurious cabin sat a man with sharp, dashing eyebrows and eyes as bright as stars. His chiseled features looked like a masterpiece carved by a renowned sculptor, and he exuded an aura of cold, noble authority.

"If the old man likes the woman he picked out so much, let him marry her himself. I have no interest," Kingston Carswell said into his phone, his voice devoid of emotion. And is there any lead on that woman from three years ago? A bunch of useless idiots! You have been investigating for so long, and still haven't found anything?"

He hung up the phone with a sharp click. Kingston rubbed the bridge of his nose to soothe a growing headache and turned his gaze toward the window.

"Sir, would you marry me?" He heard a faint voice ask. "I don't want anything. No dowry, no house, no car. It doesn't matter."

Outside, a beautiful woman with delicate features was clutching the arm of an average-looking man. Was she actually proposing?

"You're a lunatic!" the man barked, shoving Ariella away before scurrying off to get as far from her as possible.

Ariella did not let the rejection discourage her. She immediately scanned the sidewalk for another eligible bachelor. As long as she got married today, her parents would lose their power to sell her off to the Carswell family.

Inside the car, the corners of Kingston's mouth curled into a cold smirk. His father wanted to force a marriage on him? Fine. He would marry.

"Stop the car. You can leave now," he commanded his chauffeur. After dismissing his staff, Kingston stepped out and walked toward Ariella.

"Hello. Would you be willing to marry me?" Ariella asked. She didn't even look at his face. As long as he was a man, that was enough.

When she finally looked up, she froze. She was staring at a face so handsome it took her breath away. She blinked, her heart hammering against her ribs. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked," she stammered, turning to walk away.

Kingston reached out and caught her by the wrist. "Didn't you say you wanted to get married? I'm willing."

Ariella looked at him in shock, her head tilting slightly. "Could you say that again? My hearing isn't very good."

I said, "I am willing to marry you!" the man repeated, raising his volume by several decibels.

Determined to be honest, Ariella looked him in the eye. "I have hearing problems. I have an old injury on my wrist. Most importantly, I just finished serving three years in prison. Can you accept that?"

Kingston arched an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "No problem. In fact, I find those conditions quite satisfactory."

The two took a taxi to City Hall. When they emerged a short while later, Ariella held a marriage certificate in her hand. It felt like a dream. She couldn't believe she was a married woman, though the man she was tied to was not the one she had loved for over twenty years.

The memories of her past surged forward, each one a bitter sting to her soul. She began to wheeze, a ragged sound escaping her thin chest. She coughed violently into her hand, seeing splatters of bright red blood on her palm.

"What's wrong?" Kingston asked, his voice sharp with suspicion. "You don't have some kind of strange terminal illness, do you?"

Before the words fully left his mouth, Ariella's legs gave out, and she slumped toward the pavement. She had just been released from prison and had not had a single moment of rest. Between the terror of the forced marriage and the physical toll of her escape, her body had finally reached its breaking point.

At the hospital, Kingston paced the hallway while Ariella was taken in for an examination. He made a phone call, his expression darkening with every passing second. Now that they were legally bound, he needed to know exactly who he had married.

The report came back quickly. When he saw the results, his face twisted in disgust. The woman he had caught on the street was the very same woman his father had ordered him to marry.

Kingston felt a surge of loathing. He hated being manipulated, and he hated being outplayed. Ariella Ellerker. He would make her realize that entangling him in her schemes was the biggest mistake of her life.

With a black expression, the man turned and strode toward the ward.