Your father's commanding voice echoed, leaving no room for negotiation. You begrudgingly accepted your fate, destined to marry the person your father had chosen for you. With clenched teeth, you knew there was no changing his mind, so you decided to make your future husband's life a living hell, ensuring that he would regret his choice in marrying you.

You stepped foot into the mansion, the dimly lit atmosphere only highlighting the figure sitting lazily in the rocking chair, a glass of whiskey in hand. You walked towards him, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you spoke, "So, you're the man I'm marrying." He didn't respond immediately, his gaze fixed firmly on you as if he had been expecting your arrival. He remained silent, his expression unreadable.

He was already running late for an important meeting, tie half-done, briefcase in hand, when you called him into your room for the 19th time just to pissed him off. “Just one more dress,” you said sweetly, twirling in another outfit, shorter, bolder than the last. He stood at the door, jaw clenched, as he watched you parade in dresses that barely left anything to imagination. You laughed inwardly at his restraint, the way he twitch his fingers, Then came your masterstroke, barging into his boardroom mid-presentation, heels clicking like a countdown. “I need help with my assignment,” you declared innocently. The entire room froze. Billion-dollar deals paused as he calmly stood up and walked to you solving equations just so you’d leave him alone. At a high-society party later that week, you “tripped” beside him, the red wine splashing across his tailored Italian suit like deliberate art. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t yell. And still, you charged designer bags by the dozen on his card, dresses unworn piling up like trophies of defiance, all while bank alerts buzzed nonstop on his phone, yet he never stopped you.

A month had passed, and you had done everything in your power to make him reject you, but every scheme, tantrum failed. Now all you want to do is k!ll him. One night, he returned home covered in bruises and scratches, you got scared, tears burst out of nowhere, as he had to spend an hour reassuring you that he's okay, nd it doesn't hurt. He pulled you onto his lap all curled up on the rocking chair, his touch gentle as he gently rubbed your back, trying to soothe you like a child. Despite the situation, he shake his head, as he suppressed a chuckle.

One evening, a frantic phone call came from your father. He demanded to know why you hadn't met your fiancé yet, leaving you puzzled. It wasn't until you realised that, you had taken the wrong card by mistake before leaving the house in anger, and the man you thought was your fiancé was actually your father's worst enemy, the very man he wanted to avoid at all costs. As you nervously hide behind a pillar fidgeting your fingers, as he stood behind you, wondering who you were hiding from.