Chapter 2_ The Weight of Choice

Golden light spilled through the curtains, soft against the pale sheets. The heater hummed quietly, pushing warmth into the otherwise still night. Jenna sat cross-legged under the blanket, laptop balanced on her knees, having finished her nightly routine—shower, change, quick dinner, and tidying up a few small things.

She had tried calling Dad as soon as she got home, but the line was busy. The phone rested beside the laptop, and she sipped the cold coffee on the nightstand, keeping her focus on work. The curtains were drawn just enough to catch the city lights, letting the quiet settle her nerves.

Notes and case files were stacked beside her. She shifted a file, glanced at the summary, and typed out the final note, her fingers moving automatically while her eyes flicked between documents. The silence stretched until the sudden buzz of her phone broke it. Her dad’s name lit up the screen. She grabbed it, holding it between her shoulder and ear as she closed the laptop.

“Hey, Dad,” she said, brushing a damp strand of hair from her face.

“You finally got home,” he said, calm but firm. “Long day?”

“Yeah, the shift ran late, and it rained on the way back. Everything’s fine, though. You sound tense. Is everything okay? Mom and Alexa?”

“They’re fine,” he said, the faint clink of a mug audible even through the line. “Listen, I need you to come home tomorrow.”

Jenna froze, her hand lingering on the mattress. “Tomorrow? But… what for?”

“It’s important. We need to talk in person.”

She rubbed the back of her neck, scanning the room. “Dad, you’re scaring me a little. Is everything okay?”

“It is. But not something I can explain over the phone. Can you come in the morning?”

Her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she twisted a strand of hair around her finger. “I have class and a shift, but I can come after work.”

“Good. Don’t be late.” The line clicked dead before she could respond. The screen went dark, leaving only the lingering tension.

Before she could put it back, another vibration buzzed across the nightstand. A new email notification from the university administration blinked. She clicked it open, expecting another schedule reminder, but the message was different:

“Due to an ongoing investigation near Westview Avenue following last night’s incident, the university will remain closed tomorrow. Students are advised to avoid the area until further notice.”

Her eyebrows twitched as she read line by line, reaching the end of the email.

Medline Administration Office

(Attached: News Source — Cityline Update)

She scanned the text again before clicking the attached link. The headline loaded in bold black letters:

“ROSSI UNDER SCRUTINY AFTER ATTEMPTING TO USE BLACKSTONE NAME IN FALSE DEAL”

Below the headline, the article read:

“Westview Avenue, Cityline. Last night, local authorities investigated Rossi Enterprises after an attempted permit acquisition using the name of the Blackstone family, one of the city’s most influential figures. Sources say Rossi tried to leverage a connection that does not exist, in an effort to expand his operations. The stunt triggered a minor turf clash and drew attention from rival groups. No injuries were reported. Investigations continue.”

She switched off the screen and set the phone aside, stretching slightly before rising from the bed. Her hands rested on the window sill as she stared down at the dark streets below.

First, the men on the road tonight. Then Dad’s urgent call. And now this email. Why is everything happening at once? Is this coincidence, or am I missing something?

She paced slowly, folding her arms across her chest. Her eyes flicked to the clock. 12:30. Too late to make any move.

******

Morning sunlight cut through the windshield, sharp against the glass. She lowered the visor, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel as the car inched forward, then stopped again. Traffic hadn’t moved in nearly ten minutes.

She leaned sideways, trying to see what was holding everyone up. The line of vehicles stretched endlessly, horns blaring in bursts of frustration. A traffic officer scanned the street, directing cars with practiced gestures, letting a few through at a time.

Oh, please, move, what the hell! she thought, groaning at the slow crawl.

She had taken a morning shift at the clinic and told Ava to handle the rest while she went to her parents’ house.

Then her eyes caught a sleek black car exactly to her left, windows dark and reflective. For a moment, she felt someone’s gaze on her. She turned slightly, trying to see past the tinted windows, and a strange unease ran through her.

She tried to focus on the road again, pretending to check the rearview mirror. Eventually, the black car slowly turned down the next lane and disappeared from view.

Finally! she exhaled, gripping the wheel a little less tightly, though the uneasy feeling lingered, like someone had been watching her.

A while later, she drove up to the house. The gatekeeper, Uncle Mike, gave her a warm nod from his post by the gate, the same way he had since she was a kid. She passed him a soft smile before parking the car to the side.

Her eyes immediately landed on another, unmistakably familiar car already there. She read the number plate, and a spark of excitement hit her. Grabbing her bag, she stepped out and hurried toward the living room, eager to see her sister.

She pushed open the front door, a smile tugging at her lips. “Hey, Alexa!” she called, expecting her usual teasing grin.

Alexa was curled on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, her expression tight, almost unreadable. Jenna’s smile faltered as she hurried toward her, dropping her bag on the table.

“Jenna,” Alexa whispered, stepping up and pulling her into a tight hug. It wasn’t casual; there was urgency behind it, a weight she couldn’t put into words. Something feels wrong.

Before she could ask, her mom appeared from the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel. The smile she offered didn’t reach her eyes; tension lined her face, the same kind Jenna saw in Alexa. Then came her dad’s footsteps, measured and steady, echoing down the stairs. He reached the bottom, glanced at them, and paused.

“I had told him I’d let him know later,” Mr. Blake said quietly to her mom, holding his phone.

Him? “Is someone coming today?” Her eyes darted between the three of them, catching the tension as he finally reached her, shaking his head.

“Sit, Jenna,” he said, lowering himself onto the single couch beside her. She sank into the cushions, palms pressing against her knees.

Alexa went upstairs, and the way she avoided Jenna’s eyes made her suspicious. Her mom returned to the kitchen, and he started small talk about her schedule, her shifts, and other everyday things. The chatter felt hollow, doing little to ease the tension.

Mrs. Blake came back with a tray, carrying snacks and her favorite mango nectar, and handed her a glass. As Jenna reached for the snacks, her eyes drifted past her dad's shoulder toward the kitchen. A few extra grocery bags sat on the counter, filled with things they didn’t usually buy unless guests were expected.

“Mom, it seems like you’re doing preparations. Who’s visiting today?” she asked again, glancing among them. She noticed Mom sitting quietly on the couch, a faint crease of worry on her forehead. Her mom exchanged a glance with her dad, unease written on both their faces.

He leaned forward, hands clasped, clearing his throat. “You’re going to be engaged, Jenna.”

The words hit like a punch. Her glass paused mid-lift. “Are you serious, Dad? I’m not even done with my studies yet. How can you even think of this now?”

He lifted a hand. “I know this is sudden. But it’s necessary. This isn’t just a social arrangement; it’s about protection, alliances, survival.”

She set the glass down, the small tick loud in the quiet room. “But, who?”

He let a pause stretch, letting the weight settle. “Evan Grant. He’s the one you will be engaged to.” He lifted his head, meeting her wide, shocked eyes. “I know you’ll question me, but Jenna, I tried to refuse this proposal many times. Now the stakes are higher than expected.”

She stayed still, trying to catch her breath. His expression told her the conversation was far from over.

“I could have pushed him away again, but he isn’t ordinary. He’s a king from the Blackstone Gang. One wrong move, and there’s no one to protect you.”

The name hit her. Blackstone. Her mind flashed to the email she had read last night, the one about Rossi, the investigation, the minor turf clash.

“Wait, Dad, isn’t this about Rossi? That news I read, the one about the woman they were chasing?”

He shook his head slowly, eyes calm but serious. “No, Jenna. This isn’t connected to Rossi. This is something older. Something bigger.”

She pressed her hands to her face, trying to process. Words barely formed. “Dad, how does he even know I existed? Is he someone involved in your business, or…?”

He leaned back slightly, exhaling slowly. “No. He isn’t one of my partners, and this isn’t about my business directly. But both of our families are known in this city. His father’s a businessman, influential. You remember that day at the mall after your exams, the weekend Alexa wanted to celebrate?”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “We just went for lunch.”

“You passed the café near the center court. He was there, having a meeting. He saw you.”

Jenna sank back against the couch, hands curling into the fabric. Four months ago, and now it means all of this. The realization sank deep.

“There’s no choice left, Jenna. If I refuse again, he will destroy everything: our business, our home, our safety. Not a second will be spared.”

She shook her head, voice firm despite the tremor. “Dad, you can’t just hand me over. You’re a known businessman. You could get help. You’re not powerless!”

He exhaled, shoulders stiffening, gaze dropping. “Help? You think anyone in this city can stand against him? Against Evan Grant?”

“Exactly! You could make people listen. Use your connections, your influence. Don’t just hand me over,” she said, clutching the glass again, trying to steady her breath.

He leaned back further, his expression hardening. “I’ve tried everything. Men like him don’t take no. They don’t forget. Once he wants something, he gets it. And now that he has seen you, Jenna, there’s no turning back.”

Mr. Blake slowly got up from the couch, straightening his shirt. “Evan wants to meet you in person. Maybe to go over his Italian rituals. Tell me when you can, tomorrow or later.”

What? Italian? And now he wants to meet me in person? Her mind stuttered over the new piece of information. Great. Foreign traditions and expectations, just what I needed.

He paused halfway, glancing over his shoulder. “I expect you won’t push me to the point where I can only give you a choice. Save this family or cut off. Choose wisely: marrying him may keep you safe. Refuse, and nothing will protect you.”

The words landed like stones in her chest. Her lips parted, but nothing came out. For a heartbeat, she followed him as he moved across the room, the space between them stretching, heavy and unbridgeable.

Tears blurred her vision, spilling before she could stop them. Everything feels wrong, like the world has shifted beneath me. Mom pulled her into her arms, whispering softly as her hand rubbed her back, trying to hold together what already felt broken.