Elias froze. His stomach twisted as if he'd swallowed ice.
"…It's him," he muttered.
Catrina, sprawled across his bed with a face mask half-dried on her cheek, glanced at the phone. "The ditcher himself, huh?"
Elias shoved the phone toward her like it burned. "Pick it up. You do it."
Catrina blinked. "Me? Why? He's calling you."
"Exactly. He stood me up. Why should I talk to him first?" Elias folded his arms. "Let him sweat a little."
Catrina smirked. "Spite. I like it." She snatched the phone. "What do you want me to say?"
"Just… say I'm busy. He can call later."
Catrina nodded and hit the green button, putting it on speaker. A pause. Then—
"Am I speaking to Elias?"
The voice was deep. Calm. But there was something in the way he said it—like he wasn't used to being ignored.
"No," Catrina answered sweetly. "This is his sister."
A silence followed. Not the kind that felt like awkwardness—but heavy. Like something was brewing.
Elias leaned closer, whispering, "Put it on speaker."
"It's already on speaker, dumbass," Catrina whispered back.
More silence.
Then Damien's voice again—colder this time, calculated:
"I see. Can you tell Elias I called? And to call me back… when he's done hiding behind his sister."
Catrina's brows shot up. Elias's eyes widened.
"…Sure," Catrina said after a beat, keeping her tone even. "I'll let him know."
Click. The line went dead.
They both stared at the phone.
Catrina broke the silence with a low whistle. "Damn. He's got nerve."
Elias didn't answer. His heart was thudding now—not with fear, but something sharper. This wasn't over. Not even close.
Just as the air began to settle after Damien's ice-cold phone call, another notification popped up on Elias's phone.
"So you had to run to another man the second I was gone? Pathetic."
Catrina leaned over and squinted at the screen. "Who the hell—?" She tapped the message. "Who the actual fuck is this clingy clown?"
Elias stared at the message and groaned. "Oh no. That has to be Alex. That motherfu—ugh, why is he still breathing in my digital space?!"
Catrina narrowed her eyes. "Didn't we block that walking red flag already?"
"I did! But I think he's texting from another number now. Probably using his grandma's burner phone."
"Ugh, loser behavior," Catrina muttered, already blocking the number like she was swatting a fly. "There. Vanquished. So—now that we've silenced Ghost of Toxic Past, are you gonna call Damien back?"
Elias scoffed. "Absolutely not. He ditched me like I was a coupon that expired five minutes ago."
"But he knew you were at the restaurant, thanks to your brilliant decision to send me in like your emotional bodyguard," Catrina said, poking him in the side.
Elias yelped, "Ow! That actually hurt!"
Catrina rolled her eyes. "I barely tapped you. Drama queen."
Then—ding.
Another message.
This time from Damien.
Elias hesitated before unlocking his phone. Then he read it out loud in the most robotic voice imaginable:
"My sincerest apologies for today's mishap. If you can find it within yourself to forgive me, I would greatly appreciate it. Due to my work schedule, further dates may not be possible. However, your wedding suit fitting is scheduled for next Friday. I hope you will attend and make any necessary adjustments. Thank you for your time."
There was a pause.
Then Catrina clutched her stomach. "Oh my God—who writes essays as texts in 2025?! What is this, a job application?!"
"My teeth cracked from the formality," Elias added, grimacing. "I think his secretary wrote that."
"Totally. That's not the text of a man. That's the text of a man who said, 'Jill, please handle my emotions. I have a meeting.'"
They both burst into laughter, nearly falling off the bed.
Wiping away a tear, Catrina wheezed, "At least he apologized. That's rare for emotionally stunted billionaires. I'll go with you to the suit fitting, deal?"
Elias nodded, still smiling. "Deal. But if he texts me another Google Doc again, I'm bringing a lawyer."
The following Friday arrived like a whisper, soft and sudden. The sky was painted in a pale shade of gold as the sun filtered through the clouds. Elias stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the soft cream scarf around his neck.
"You ready?" Catrina called from the hallway, already dressed in a sharp blazer and boots that clicked like confidence on marble.
Elias took one last glance in the mirror, gave himself a shaky smile, and stepped out. "As ready as I'll ever be to try on the suit I'll wear when I marry a man who didn't show up to our first date."
Catrina smirked but softened quickly. "You're not marrying the moment, you're marrying the meaning… I guess. That's what dad would say anyway."
Elias chuckled quietly. "Sounds like something he'd say right before announcing he bought a second factory in Malaysia."
The car ride was quiet at first—comfortably so. Catrina had one hand on the wheel, the other drumming against her thigh. Elias watched the trees rush by, feeling oddly suspended between timelines—his childhood, his messy college years, and now… this strange engagement with a stranger.
"You know," Catrina began, breaking the silence, "your wedding is in two weeks."
Elias blinked. "Yeah."
"I mean, two weeks, El. I can't believe it's happening. I still remember you begging me to help you forge dad's signature so you could skip a field trip."
"That was one time," Elias said, groaning.
"You were twelve and dramatic. I thought you'd grow out of it. Now look at you—dramatic and getting married."
They laughed together, but Catrina's tone softened as the boutique came into view.
"I'm proud of you, you know."
Elias turned to her, caught off guard.
"I know you didn't choose this. Not really. But you're handling it with… way more grace than I expected."
Elias swallowed hard. "I guess I'm just tired of disappointing people. If I can't have what I want, at least I can try not to break everything around me."
Catrina reached over and squeezed his hand. "You're not breaking anything. You're making something. Maybe not the life you dreamed of—but a new one. And who knows? Maybe this won't be so bad."
They pulled into the boutique parking lot and stepped out. Inside, the staff greeted them like royalty. "Right this way, Mr. Blackthorne is running late but should be arriving shortly," said a sharply dressed assistant.
"Of course he is," Elias muttered.
Still, he allowed himself to be led to the fitting room. He tried on a deep navy-blue suit—sharp-cut, embroidered at the cuffs, tailored like it was made just for him.
Catrina gasped. "Oh my God. You look like a royal secret."
Elias turned slowly in the mirror, eyes softening. "I almost feel like a groom…"
Catrina stepped beside him. "You are a groom."
There was a beat of silence.
Elias whispered, "Do you think I'll ever actually be happy with this life?"
Catrina didn't answer right away. She looked at his reflection and said quietly, "I think you deserve to be. And sometimes… happiness grows in places you didn't expect it to."
Elias nodded, trying not to tear up. He was about to say something else—when the assistant poked her head in.
"Mr. Blackthorne has arrived. He's in the lobby. Would you like to come out and greet him?"
Elias nodded slowly, nerves twisting in his stomach. He stepped out of the fitting room, Catrina right behind him.
But as soon as he turned the corner into the boutique's main lobby—
His eyes met Damien's.
For the first time.
Tall. Imposing. Dark-eyed and unreadable.
And yet… something in his gaze made Elias forget how to breathe.
Damien's lips parted like he was about to speak—but then his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen, frowned, and answered it without a word to Elias.
Then, without even looking at him again, he walked outside—leaving the door swinging gently behind him.
Elias stood frozen.
"…Did he seriously just walk out on me again?" he muttered.
Catrina whispered, "What the actual fu—"