"Then it's settled. I should be on my way," Zeke said, standing up quickly, ready to retreat from the oppressive study.
He was only halfway to the door when his grandfather stretched out his carved walking stick, blocking his path with a quiet, definitive thud.
"Oh, young man," Old Man Black's voice was a low rasp, devoid of warmth. "Where are you rushing to? The girl you agree to court—you shall marry her in two months."
The words fell like stones into the silent room.
"Two months?" Zeke spun around, his calm façade shattering. "A half-courtship? A week? Grandfather, you know as well as I do that I could pick any girl and break it off the next minute!"
"Ah, but you won't," the old man countered, his gaze glacial. "Because you won't be 'picking' her. I will arrange the match. The media's claws are not so easily retracted. A fleeting courtship would only invite more suspicion. A swift, proper marriage silences all whispers permanently."
Beside him, Kira's lips tightened into a thin, satisfied line, while Edward stared stiffly at the bookshelves, unwilling or unable to meet his son's eyes.
"This is about more than the media!" Zeke argued, panic edging his voice. The weight of a binding union pressed down on him, far heavier than he'd anticipated. "You said you wanted to let the rumors die down. This… this will ignite them!"
"And how would we know you won't just parade a paid actress before us, hmm?" Old Man Black asked, tilting his head with a feigned, cruel innocence. "A pretty, convincing fake to buy your freedom? No. Marriage is a chain of accountability. It is public. It is legal. It is final. You will marry the girl I select at the end of eight weeks. That is the new condition of our... deal."
He slowly lowered his walking stick, the gesture a clear dismissal. "You may go. Start preparing your mind, Zeke. You are to become a husband."
Zeke stood frozen for a moment longer, the air in the study feeling too thick to breathe. The door he had been so eager to reach now felt like the gate to a prison whose walls were just beginning to close in. Without another word, he turned and left, the echo of his grandfather's decree ringing in his ears long after the heavy door clicked shut behind him.
On leaving his grandfather's study, Zeke couldn't help but mutter under his breath, "That sly old fox."
"What did Grandpa do to you?" came a familiar voice from the dim hallway.
Zeke turned to see Charlie leaning against the wall, one leg bent with his foot flat against the paneling, his arms folded. He was studying his cousin intently.
"What are you doing here?" Zeke replied, the anger from his conversation still hot in his veins.
"I don't think you answered the question correctly, bruh," Charlie said, a slight, knowing smirk on his face. "Anyway, I was waiting for you."
"Why?" Zeke questioned, his eyes narrowing as he watched Charlie fish a sleek silver case from his pocket. Charlie flicked it open, selected a single cigar, and offer Zeke with a casual wave.
"Why are you not downstairs with the rest of the family?" Zeke asked, eyeing his cousin skeptically.
Charlie exhaled a bored sigh. "They are too boring and too noisy. This," he said, gesturing with the cigar pack toward the closed study door, "seems far more interesting. So, tell me all the details."
He finally pushed off the wall and stepped closer, lowering his voice.
Zeke, worn down and simmering, explained everything that had transpired in his grandfather's study as the walked towards the garden. When he revealed the ultimatum, Charlie's eyebrows shot up.
"Wait... you're getting married in two months?" Charlie's voice was a mixture of disbelief and dark amusement. "Oh, heaven help me," he chuckled, unable to help his mocking tone.
"It's not funny, Charlie," Zeke snapped, the last of his composure fraying. "Seriously, I'm already piled up with work at the office, and now I have to go on stupid blind dates to meet stupid, entitled women who only know how to flaunt their family's wealth."
Zeke was so vexed by his situation that he couldn't help but let out a short, humorless laugh at the sheer absurdity of it all. He leaned his head back against the tree located in the garden as he exhaled a puff of cigar.
Then, his expression suddenly shifted. He straightened up, a new, calculating sharpness entering his eyes as he looked at Charlie.
"Unless..." Zeke began slowly, the seed of a reckless idea taking root. "Unless the woman I agree to marry isn't what they expect at all."
"What do you mean?" Charlie asked, his mocking smile fading into genuine shock. What are you saying?"
A slow, cunning smile spread across Zeke's lips, transforming his earlier frustration into something sharper, more dangerous.
"My dear family," Zeke said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "is in for a surprise. Grandfather said I must marry the girl he selects. But he never specified what kind of girl."
Charlie stared, the pieces clicking into place. "Zeke... you can't be serious."
"Oh, but I am," Zeke replied, the plan solidifying as he spoke. "He wants a marriage to quiet the rumors? Fine. He wants a public, legal chain? I'll give him one. But if I have to be shackled, I'll pick my own shackles. I need to find a bride—just not the one waiting in their gilded catalog."
He began to pace slowly in the dim garden a new energy coursing through him. "Someone they'd never approve of. Someone who would make their perfect, society-page fantasy crumble into a beautiful, scandalous mess. A marriage of inconvenience... for them."
He stopped and looked directly at Charlie, the defiance burning bright in his eyes. "They want to control the future of the Black family? Let's see how they handle a future they never saw coming."