"She would be mine," I whispered. "And you're to love her like Christ loves the church."
I slammed the brake immediately.
"What was that?" I asked myself, scanning the dark road. The sound had been soft, yet it lingered in my ears. Must be my imagination—or maybe I was thinking too much.
I restarted the car and began driving, still replaying the moment. Was this her doing? I glanced at her, unconscious, and heard a name I never expected: "Christ."
I had never believed in Him. Not since I was a child.
God had always been absent. From a young age, I lost everything—my dad, my mom, and my three sisters—all at once.
Almost fell in love once… but she died. My uncle took everything I had left. I was left alone on the streets, aimless, broken.
I laughed in pain whenever I remembered. No family. No friends. All alone. I loathed that name.
---
We arrived at my mansion. The maids were lined up, bodyguards patrolling with dogs, and my pet tiger, Raphael, sat chained to the wall.
I parked at the foot of the stairs leading to the main door. "Good morning, sir," they all said in unison. I checked the time—4:20 a.m. A new personal record.
I lifted her from the seat. Eyes widened among the staff, but I didn't care. "What are you fools staring at?" I snapped. The stares melted instantly.
Raphael's eyes followed me. He growled low, focusing on the girl. "She's not for breakfast," I warned, and he reluctantly lay down again.
Claret, the head maid, approached cautiously. "Sir Jaycen… who is she?"
I ignored her and walked upstairs.
---
I laid her gently on the guest room bed, tucking her in with the duvet. Her white bag was placed carefully on the stool next to her.
She was still unconscious. I chuckled softly, brushing her cheek. Her hair… grey? A breathtaking shade for someone so young. How had she gotten it?
The blood on her skin got me annoyed, what happened to her before she found me?
Even on her precious legs, I hopped it could fade away and doesn't leave ugly scars.
I stepped outside to let her rest. Claret was waiting at the door. "Call the doctor for a check-up and meet me at the bar," I instructed. She nodded.
I walked to the bar near the living room, shirt unbuttoned, my upper body bare. I poured a small cup of my favorite wine and sipped, letting the warmth calm me.
But she crept into my thoughts again—those blue eyes, wide with fear yet holding a hint of courage. I imagined them filled with happiness.
"I see you're enjoying yourself, preparing for the little girl," came a familiar voice. Amber. My best friend.
Her blonde hair was in a sleek ponytail, green eyes sparkling, outfit impeccable. She took the glass from me and sat down. " Tell me why a little girl like her is in your house all bruised up."
"Are the scars going to fade?" I asked codly
She seemed amused "yeah, luckily for her it wasn't deep and I'll give you some oil to help with the scar "She'll be in safe hands," she said "How did you guys meet? And why?"
I smirked, amused by her interrogation. "Patience," I said lightly.
"She ran into me. I saved her from being murdered by me."
I replied calmly
She rolled her eyes. "You saved her? From you? Are you hearing yourself?"
"Who is she anyway?"
"She's the daughter of Nathaniel"
Amber's jaw dropped. "Of all people, it's Nathaniel's daughter! You know how he is—after your life, your empire, he could kill if anyone hurts his daughter . Stop messing with these people Jaycen!"
I smiled faintly. "She stumbled into my world. That's all. Nothing more. No harm came to her."
Amber shook her head, furious. "You're insane! And if any blood flows, it will be yours to answer for!"
I sipped my wine. Calm. Collected. "She's sleeping. No harm done." I stood, towering over her. "And don't worry, I have no ill intentions. In fact… I intend to marry her."
Her shock was palpable. "You want to what?"
"An arranged marriage," I explained. "Don't imagine a bloodbath. Just one will spill—and no more."
Amber's face twitched, her anger mixing with disbelief. I patted her shoulder and walked away, leaving her speechless.
---
Next Morning
I approached the guest room, key in hand. I had to lock the door; she might try to run otherwise.
The soft click echoed as the door opened. And there she stood.
Selah. Standing in the center of the room like she didn't belong—too pure for this world I had built. Her eyes were wide with confusion yet calm, and they locked onto mine. For a moment, time itself seemed to hesitate.
She stared—not with lust, not with fear, but something deeper. Like she was seeing into my soul.
I couldn't look away. Her presence was unsettling. Warmth in her gaze, but also light. And I wasn't sure I liked it.
"What's your name?" I asked, my voice breaking the silence.
She didn't respond. Lost—or afraid. I hated repeating myself. "I don't like saying things twice."
Her lips trembled. "S–Selah… S–Selah Evangeline B–Brooks…"
Brooks.
I raised a brow. "So he's your father, huh?" acting surprised
She blinked in confusion. She had no idea what her father truly was.
I pulled aside the tall curtains. Light flooded the room, spilling gold over the floor. Even in brightness, darkness can linger.
"He's one of my enemies," I said flatly.
"Excuse you?" she snapped.
Fire replaced her calm. "You can't just talk badly about my dad! He's a man of God, blessed by his creator! And you dare pour oil on his white garment? My Lord won't allow it!"
I didn't interrupt. I watched her burst with conviction—terrified, yet brave.
When she realized what she said, she clapped a hand over her mouth in panic. I almost smiled. Almost.
"You're already blinded by his money?" I asked quietly.
Her chin lifted. "Don't you dare think I'm one of your bimbo girls who rely on daddy's money. I work hard, every day. Glory be to God, I do excellently well."
That name again—God. That same sting I thought I buried years ago returned.
Her gaze dropped—to the bed.
A Bible. A stain of blood.
Confusion, embarrassment, shock. She whispered something under her breath.
I exhaled sharply. "Claret!"
The old maid entered, bowing. "You called, sir? Good morning, miss. I hope you slept well?"
Selah gave only a small wave, pale and uncertain.
"Clean this bed, help her change, and bring her to breakfast," I instructed, brushing against the Bible.
"Hey! That's mine! Can't you ask?"
Her audacity caught me off guard. Claret's eyes widened at her boldness, but I remained calm.
Then—a quiet moment.
Her face softened, listening to something only she could hear.
"You can have it," she said gently.
I was caught off guard. For a moment, I was speechless. But I covered it quickly, tucking the Bible under my arm and leaving the room.
The weight of that little book… felt heavier than I remembered.