I remembered Roman's words: that the bittersweet fruit of last night was a promise. So he had slept with me knowing this whole plan was underway?
They intended to chain me. To cripple me. So I would have nowhere to go but to stay in the golden cage they had prepared.
When Roman walked out of my apartment last night, I had already lost the battle. But instead of letting me breathe, they choked me into despair.
My wedding was stolen. Now my image is tarnished. They're treating me like an unworthy discharge.
Everyone had their own agenda. And I was the clueless pawn in their game.
Even the man who stood up and walked toward the window in front of me right now—his agenda had to be the most dangerous of them all.
I took a deep, shaky breath. No tears. I stepped forward and placed the tablet on the bed. My lifeless gaze locked on him.
"I can come to that wedding by myself and bring everyone down with me in one blow. So why do I need to take your hand?" I challenged him.
Still looking out the window, he smirked. "Are you sure? Look below. Your cousin is busy with some men in black. They seem to be searching for you."
My eyes widened. I rushed to join him, peering out the window.
Was that why Victor was glued to my father all the way here?
"Why? Are they really going to lock me up?" I yelped, disbelief warring with the cold certainty that my guess was right.
"Isn't it obvious? For the narrative to work, you can't show yourself at the wedding tomorrow."
I bit my lower lip.
"Will the guests actually believe that nonsense on the invitation? Is that medical term even real?" I turned to Rafael, searching for an explanation.
He smiled calmly. "Why are you so naive? You must know this so well. In this country, money speaks for everything. But money alone can't hold the true power. Who do you think is the most powerful man in this country?" he asked, his gaze distant, looking far beyond the glass.
I knew exactly what he meant, but I was in no mood for his TED Talk.
"Ramsey Housley?" I named Roman's grandfather.
Rafael shook his head, a knowing smile playing on his lips.
"The National Chief Prosecutor. Dimitri Island. Your father." He said, his eyes burning with intensity.
I flinched. I expected him to be a narcissist, but he had a point.
"A combination of Prosecutor and Doctor is like a Heavenly Dynasty that holds both money and a good public persona. That's the real power," he continued.
"The Housley… The Island… those two families. Whatever comes out of their mouth is like Bible scripture. The guests will believe it. And… that medical term is an exaggerated term for Acute Mood Swings, a side effect of those hormonal medications. So yes. It's believable." His grin widened, as if he were the Godfather of these power games.
Now I remembered. The first reason why I hated him.
He always said whatever was on his mind, and all of it was the bitter truth.
He rarely talked for long, but when he did, it was like a dagger that could strip me bare and leave me uncomfortable.
I looked out the window, weighing the immense mass of the decision I had to make.
"Then wouldn't it be better if I just locked myself away? You're part of that society. I can understand if you're targeting the Housleys. But my father… You wouldn't dare raise a flag of war in his face, would you?" I voiced my doubt.
If we showed up at the wedding tomorrow, we would shake up the whole society.
Kingston and Housley were famous for their rivalry, so that was nothing new.
The real problem lay with my father.
Being chief prosecutor meant he could drag down even the president with a single nod. My father held dirty information on most of the powerful people.
Rafael reached into his pocket. It was a strip of bubble gum.
He ripped open a pack and began chewing it.
With a poker face and a distant gaze, he seemed to enter his serious thinking mode.
It sent a chill through me. It reminded me of the past.
Something I'd almost forgotten about him. He was a troublemaker.
Such an asshole that the people five feet around him could feel the aura of the Grim Reaper.
It must have hit him. Because no matter how powerful Kingston was, they couldn't afford to be on my father's bad side.
Doing this would ignite my father's rage. Why would he go to that length just to save me? Unless the one-day date turned into—
"I am a Kingston. Your father would be proud to have his daughter dating me. Just think about changing the narrative first. I have an idea how to play it safe. It won't tarnish the Island name." He said with his casual smugness.
The narcissist was back. What else did I expect? Someone needed to reward his overconfidence.
"The idea? What kind of strange idea did you ponder?" I said bitterly.
"So, yes?" He repeated the pressing question. His brow arched, demanding my answer.
I let out a heavy sigh.
I closed my eyes to think. My body felt colder than the room's air conditioning.
The dampness in my palms was a sign that my blood pressure was dropping.
I was surprised I didn't have a panic attack under this extreme stress.
When I first ran into this room and hammered my chest, I felt almost lost, my short breath panicking me.
But when I heard his voice, shouldn't I have panicked more? Why did my breathing stabilize instead?
It must be because I was too embarrassed to cry in front of him. Yes, that had to be it.
But he wanted to play a date with me? Did he not feel awkward around me?
I opened my eyes and turned to him.
"What will you gain from this? Why do you want to help me?" I asked.
"Let's say… I need a dramatic entrance to let the whole society know that the sole heir of Kingston is back." His smirk deepened, his eyes sly like a fox, drunk on the wine of misery.
I could guess it was related to the Housleys.
He just wanted to see their faces crumple in embarrassment. But I held my tongue.
It would only be a one-day date anyway. Maybe only a few hours during the wedding ceremony.
And he was Kingston. The only Elite name strong enough to match the two powerhouses I faced.
"Fine. Let's do it." I agreed. But my eyes were still fixed on the window, on the men in black under my cousin's supervision. "But they… How—"
Rafael was no longer beside me. He had picked up his phone and was sitting on the sofa, making a call.
I truly couldn't read him at all. His reckless audacity was the absolute opposite of my overthought, careful mind.
Maybe because he was a genius? He was certainly not normal.
While every intern practices in a small hospital, he volunteered in a war zone.
No one—not even his mentor professor—could understand that decision.
But now that he was back safely, no one could underestimate Rafael Kingston, the first intern in history to receive The Global Star of Medicine Award.
Rafael ended his call and looked at me, a faint, sly smirk tugging at the corner of his lips while still chewing his dear gum.
"My doctor just told me that I could be discharged," he said.
I frowned, "And?"
"I need an attending doctor for that." He paused and stood. "You'll be the one."
What the hell was he talking about?