The Bellinger family was one of the first to build a railroad empire. Over the decades, the family expanded into trucking, logistics, and supply chain networks across the country. But after the untimely death of its heir and Julius’ father, Nathan Bellinger, the family’s fortune—and legacy—now rested in the hands of his only son, Julius.
Julius had never been the sentimental type. Sharp, efficient, and chronically overworked, he focused on numbers, mergers, and market shares—not matters of the heart. So when the terms of his grandfather’s will demanded that he marry before his 35th birthday in order to claim full ownership of the company, Julius was more irritated than shocked. A legacy hinging on a wedding? Absurd.
It wasn’t that Julius didn’t want love—he just didn’t have time for it. He had a business to save, board members to answer to, and competitors circling like vultures. Dating apps, blind dates, setups from family—all of it felt forced, transactional. Nothing stuck.
With only a few weeks left, pressure mounted. So one afternoon, after another failed meeting disguised as a lunch date, Julius ducked out of his office and wandered the city alone. He didn’t go to his usual upscale bar. Instead, he ended up somewhere quieter—an old bookstore café tucked between a wine shop and a florist.
It smelled like paper and espresso. It was nothing like his world.
That’s when he heard her voice.
“No, Mum, I’m not going to marry someone just because you think time’s running out! Yes, I know he’s a surgeon, but I’m not interested in being anyone’s emergency project—ugh!”
She hung up with a sigh and dropped her head onto her books. Law books. Julius, seated a few tables away, let out a short, unexpected chuckle.
She looked up, annoyed. “You laughing at me?”
“Just recognizing the pain,” he said, gesturing with his coffee. “I’ve had three brunches this week where people tried to auction me off to someone’s daughter.”
She squinted. “You one of those startup types?”
“CEO, technically,” he said. “Family business.”
“Ah, so the pressure’s inherited.”
“You could say that.”
She smiled despite herself and nudged the chair across from her. “Might as well suffer together, then.”
They talked. Really talked. About work. Family expectations. Deadlines. He was charming in a tired, unpolished way. She was brilliant, blunt, and clearly not interested in his net worth. They ordered wine. Then another. Then laughter came easier.
When the café closed, they walked together. When the street grew quiet, she kissed him first.
One night. That was the unspoken rule.
But morning came too soon. She woke tangled in unfamiliar sheets, her heart dropping into her stomach the second she realized where she was—and who was beside her.
“Oh my god,” she blurted, fumbling for her clothes. “This was a mistake. I—I don’t even know your name—”
Julius sat up, shirtless, rubbing his eyes. “Wait. Breathe.”
“I don’t do this,” she said, grabbing her bag. “I don’t do one-night stands—I was stressed and you were—ugh—funny, and—”
“Okay, okay,” he said calmly, watching her spiral. “Just hear me out.”
She froze in place, one shoe in hand.
He sat up straighter. “This might sound insane. And you’re completely allowed to throw that shoe at me. But since we’re already in this... unique situation...”
A pause. His voice dropped.
“Would you consider marrying me?”