Beauitfully Dead, A Second Chance At Love

Jade’s POV

I walked into the sleek downtown café like I owned the place, because in many ways, I did. My eyes scanned the room until they landed on him; he was the only one out of place. He was sitting alone in a private corner booth, looking every bit out of place in a suit. He was tall and broad, with sharp features that seemed to be carved from ice.

I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and walked straight over. I didn’t wait for an invitation. I slid into the chair opposite him. He looked momentarily surprised, then a cold mask slipped back into place.

“I’m not interested in getting married,” I said before he could open his mouth. “The only reason I showed up to this ridiculous blind date is because my father wouldn’t stop harassing me. How much did he pay you to be here? I’ll double it. All you have to do is call him and tell him we’re not a match.”

I pulled out a thick envelope of cash from my bag and dropped it on the table with a soft thud. Then I stood up and walked away without looking back.

I hadn’t even taken three steps onto the sidewalk before my phone started ringing. I didn’t need to check the screen to know who it was.

“Yes, Father?” I answered.

“You insolent girl,” Baxton Holt’s voice roared through the speaker. “Get home right now.”

“I have the Harrington project to finalize,” I replied coolly. “You really want me to drop a multi-million-dollar deal because you’re throwing a tantrum about my personal life?”

There was silence on the other end. He hated losing money more than he hated me defying him.

“Fine,” he growled. “But you will be home for dinner," he said, and the call ended abruptly.

I shook my head and slid my phone back into my purse. Four long years I had fought and bled for the CEO position at Holt Global. Four years of proving myself while my father still saw me as nothing more than a pawn to be married off for alliances. Blake Global had come out of nowhere in the last couple of years, rising fast and threatening everything we’d built. I’d spent the past two weeks making sure their CEO didn’t poach any more of our investors.

By six that evening, I pulled up to the family estate. The moment I stepped into the grand living room, my stomach dropped.

He was there. The same man from the cafe was sitting on the leather sofa like he already owned the room; he was dressed in a tailored black suit that made him look even more imposing, and his expression was unreadable. My father looked up from his drink. “How did the Harrington deal go?”

“It’s signed,” I said, my eyes narrowing on him. “What the hell is this?”

My father smiled, the kind of smile that never reached his eyes. “This is your fiancé.”

The words landed like a slap. My mother beamed from her armchair. My aunts and cousins watched with carefully neutral expressions. The same faces that had betrayed me before.

“I won’t be getting engaged,” I said, my voice low and calm. “And I sure as hell won’t be getting married.”

“Then step down as CEO,” my father replied calmly. “Let your cousin take over.”

I felt the walls closing in; it was always the same ultimatum, the same cold control. I couldn't step down now, i was so close.

“Jade, sweetheart,” my mother chimed in, “this is Roman Kade, CEO of KA Global.”

Roman stood slowly, straightening his jacket. His dark eyes met mine, and for a split second, something flickered there, something almost familiar before it vanished.

“Mr. Holt,” he said, his voice smooth and final, “in three days.” Then he turned and walked out.

The moment the door closed behind him, my father’s hand cracked hard across my face and pain exploded across my cheek. I tasted blood.

“Take her to her room,” he ordered the staff. “She doesn’t leave until the engagement ceremony. It’s time you forgot that lowlife bastard and did your duty for this family. Marry Kade, or Gideon loses everything he has.”

I stared at all of them; these people were supposed to be my blood.

“Fine,” I whispered.

I didn’t go back to my apartment; I got in my car and drove off. Three hours later, I parked in front of the quiet cemetery on the outskirts of the city. The night air was cold as I walked down the familiar path to the grave I visited far too often.

I knelt down in front of the weathered headstone, my fingers tracing the carved letters.

Orion Blake

I let the tears I had been holding back for days finally break free. I cried hard, my shoulders shaking, the weight of the past and the nightmare waiting for me in three days crashing down all at once. Why did it have to be like this?

Past

I was seventeen the first time I saw him. The private academy my father forced me to attend was a cage; it was all marble halls, designer uniforms, and children of the elite who had never known what it meant to want for anything. We were all heirs and heiresses.

I hated every second of it. While my classmates were gossiping about summer yachts and upcoming debutante balls, I buried myself in books and business magazines, already dreaming of the day I would take Holt Global from my father’s iron grip.

It was a rainy Thursday afternoon when everything changed. I had slipped away from the main campus during a free period, needing air that didn’t smell like money and judgment. There was an old oak tree at the far edge of the grounds, near the service entrance; it had become my hiding spot. I was sitting with my back against the rough bark, with my knees drawn up, reading a worn-out copy of The Art of War I’d stolen from the library.

A low, mocking voice cut through the rain. “You’re holding it wrong.”

I looked up, startled. A boy stood a few feet away, soaked to the bone, wearing a faded black hoodie and jeans that had seen better days. His dark hair clung to his forehead, and even from a distance I could see the sharp angles of his face, high cheekbones, a stubborn jaw, and eyes the color of storm clouds.

He was clearly not a student here. Groundskeeper’s kid? Delivery boy? Whoever he was, he didn’t belong.

“Excuse me?” I snapped, clutching the book tighter.

He nodded at the pages. “The Art of War. You’re gripping it like it’s going to bite you. Relax your hands; the words hit harder when you’re not strangling them," he said.

I narrowed my eyes. Most boys at this school would have recognized me, Jade Holt, heir to billions, and either tried to impress me or stayed far away. This one looked at me like I was just… a girl. Who was annoyed and reading in the rain?

“Who are you?” I asked.