Chapter 2

Ella's POV

"I drank the spiked water too," he said suddenly, his voice low, like he was forcing the words up from somewhere deep in his chest. "I'm not making excuses. I know the damage landed on you. Doesn't matter whether I was in my right mind or not — that's just the truth."

I turned to look at him. The yellow glow of the streetlights came through the windshield and fell across his face, and what I saw there was pain held so tightly it had nowhere to go. His throat moved. Then he looked away.

"I'll take responsibility," he said. "That's not an empty word."

I didn't say anything. Responsibility. What did that even mean? Money? An apology? Driving me back to this house that didn't want me anymore?

The silence stretched. Outside, a car passed occasionally, its headlights sweeping through the cabin and disappearing. His hand rested on the steering wheel. Still.

"I've only been here a week," he said finally, his tone flat, like he was stating something that barely mattered. "Driver placement. Your family's regular driver threw out his back last week — the agency sent me over as a temp."

He paused. "What I mean is — I'm not one of your household's people. I have nothing to do with her."

He's explaining himself. He thinks I'll assume Victoria set this up with him.

I watched his profile. He wasn't looking at me. The line of his jaw was tight.

"I know you don't trust anyone right now," he said. "I'm not asking you to. I just don't want you thinking I was part of whatever she arranged."

The butler pulled open the front door, his expression carefully neutral in the way that meant it wasn't neutral at all.

"Miss Ella, Mr. and Mrs. Sterling are waiting for you in the conference room." His gaze moved to Cade, and something flickered behind his eyes — brief, dismissive. "And this would be... the driver."

The driver. One week. He'd been here one week, and he'd gotten pulled into this wreck of a night.

---

The conference room felt like a freezer.

Richard Sterling — the man I'd called Dad for twenty years — sat at the head of the long table, his face the color of storm clouds. Margaret sat beside him, eyes red, a handkerchief twisted between her fingers. Victoria stood just behind them in her cream cashmere coat, posture perfect, like she was posing for a family portrait.

"Sit," Richard said, pointing to the chair across from him. No warmth. None.

I sat. Cade stood behind me, straight as rebar.

"I never thought you'd do something like this, Ella." Richard's voice came out clipped, as each word cost him something. "Getting involved with the household's new driver — and letting someone photograph it. Do you have any idea what this means for this family? You've disgraced the Sterling name."

He threw his phone onto the table. The screen lit up with photographs — taken at an ugly angle, in dim light, but clear enough. Rumpled sheets. Two silhouettes.

My stomach turned over.

"Thank God Victoria caught it in time and managed to intercept most of the media copies," Margaret said, her voice breaking as she pressed the handkerchief to the corner of her eye. "But there's still a risk of leaks..."

"Mom, don't." Victoria laid a gentle hand on Margaret's shoulder, then turned to me with a look of careful sympathy.

"Ella's been under so much stress lately — I get it. Finding out the truth about your identity like that... it makes sense that you'd want to find some kind of release. It just happened to get noticed. It's not the end of the world."

What is she saying?

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. She was standing there looking like she was defending me, and every single word she said was burying me deeper — find some kind of release, it just happened to get noticed — as if this had been my choice. As if I'd wanted this.

"I don't even know him!" My voice came back all at once, sharp enough to startle even me. "This was a setup. I'm the one who was drugged."

"Ella." Victoria sighed, a small, patient sound. "There's no point lying about it. How could you not know him? He's been working here almost a week. You've obviously crossed paths."

"I didn't know him!" I shoved back my chair, and it scraped loudly against the floor. "It was you. You put something in my drink."

"Enough." Richard slammed his hand on the table, and the sound cracked through the room. "Whether you were stupid or set up, the outcome is the same. Did you forget you're engaged?"

His eyes were hard on mine. "If the Ashford family finds out about this, it won't only be you who pays for it. It'll be all of us."

Engaged.

The word hit me like a physical thing. That fiancé I'd never actually met, only seen in a photograph — that arrangement that existed purely as a transaction between two families — in that moment, it tightened around my throat like a rope.

"I'll explain," I heard myself say, my voice coming from somewhere far away. "I'll cancel the engagement."

"You think you can just walk away from this?" Richard cut me off, his voice loaded with a disgust I hadn't heard directed at me before.

"Ella, that arrangement has nothing to do with your feelings. It involves two families, contracts, and interests that are well beyond your understanding. You don't get to blow it up because you made a mess."

I opened my mouth. Nothing.

He was right. There was nothing I could do. There never had been.

"Dad. Mom." Victoria's voice came in again, soft and precise.

"If someone needs to step in and fix this — I'll do it. I'll take Ella's place. The engagement was always about what's good for both families anyway. Swapping one person for another shouldn't be a problem, as long as the Ashfords agree. It would let everyone move forward cleanly."

The room went quiet for a few seconds.

Margaret looked up, something uncertain moving across her face. Richard was still for a moment. Then he nodded, slowly.

"That may be the best solution we have," he said.

Just like that. Twenty years. Twenty years of being a daughter in this house, and it was dissolved in one sentence — the best solution we have. My fiancé, my place, everything that had been mine — Victoria collected it all without breaking a sweat.

And I stood there like something left over, watching them redistribute my life.

"There's one more thing." Richard turned to Cade, his gaze flat and cold. "Those photos are still a liability. If they reach the press, it's a disaster for the Sterlings and the Ashfords both. So —"

He let that hang for a moment. When he continued, his voice had hardened further.

"The two of you need to get married. It's the only way to contain this."

I couldn't move.

"What?"

"Married," Richard repeated, like it was the most ordinary thing in the world. "If you're legally husband and wife, the whole thing can be framed as an impulsive decision — moving things forward early. Not ideal, but it won't destroy the family's reputation entirely."

My brain just stopped. Married. To a man I'd met for the first time tonight.

"Are you out of your mind?" The words came out before I could stop them.

"I'm perfectly rational, Ella." Richard looked at me without blinking. "This is happening. It's the only way to protect the family's name. And after that —" He paused. "You shouldn't be living here anymore."

You shouldn't be living here anymore.

That sentence went in like a blade. I looked up at Margaret, searching for something — for her to say a word, to push back, to be what she used to be when she still stood between me and the worst of things.

She just sat there with her head down, pressing the handkerchief to her eyes. Not a word.

I turned to Cade. He was standing completely still, nothing readable on his face. Then his throat moved.

"I agree," he said. Low. Steady. "I'll marry her."