It's Crazy

"A commitment in a romantic relationship does not require pregnancy or a child, Mr. Director," she said, her voice clipped, sharp. The director arched both eyebrows slowly, unimpressed. That alone made her blood boil hotter. In response, Raellyn raised the folding knife again, holding it up right between them. She was willing to risk everything, all based on what she’d learned from Arsene. "You’re a man experienced with women, aren’t you? Then you should know pregnancy can be avoided if you don’t want it to happen."

A slight twitch appeared at the corner of the director’s mouth. Just a flicker but it didn’t go unnoticed.

"You may lower your knife now, Miss Raell," Arnav said at last, the calmness in his voice aggravating. "But don’t think I’ll acknowledge you as a woman of honor. A woman of honor wouldn’t behave like a barbarian in someone else’s office."

His fingers stopped tapping against the desk. Silence fell like a guillotine.

"What I truly can’t grasp," he continued, "is what you expect from me as compensation. You keep using the word 'responsibility' as if it’s some magic key that opens every lock. Why drag me into a love story that clearly went wrong long before I ever appeared in it?"

He shifted in his seat. The dark green vest stretched across his broad shoulders followed the movement, and for a fleeting moment, Raellyn couldn’t help but think it was the most flattering piece of clothing she’d ever seen on a man.

"Everything I want to say is in the note I included with the documents you received," she said coldly.

Arnav raised a brow again, then flipped open the first page. Indeed, a handwritten note slipped out her carefully crafted message. The core of today’s act. He read it briefly, skepticism clouding his face.

"This note reads more like a warning of impending scandal, or the death of my mischievous brother Arsene, than anything else," he muttered, closing the file again. Then he looked at her really looked. Curiosity gleamed in his eyes. "Everyone knows that love doesn’t survive on the shoulders of just one person. But let’s set that aside. Let me try to interpret your demands quickly. Let’s talk business now. What do you want from me? Money? A house? Diamonds and gold? Decide now, because I don’t have the patience to entertain a nobody like you."

His words cut deeper than she expected. Rage boiled again in her chest. Without hesitation, Raellyn hurled the folding knife across the room. It whizzed past Arnav’s head so close he had to freeze mid-reach, his hand just above the desk drawer. He had been about to open it, and God knew what he was planning to retrieve.

"You’re lucky you’ve got good reflexes, Sir," she hissed. "Otherwise, your head would’ve been split open."

Raellyn drew in a deep breath, trying failing to keep her temper in check. Her fists were clenched so tightly her knuckles went white.

"And tell me," she spat, "does a man of honor not know how to filter his words? Imagine this if you had a sister, and some foul-mouthed bastard seduced her with promises of love and marriage, only to toss her aside for another woman, what would you demand in return? Would money suffice? A house? Jewelry?"

Her fingers drummed rhythmically against the wooden arm of the chair, echoing through the tense silence. Arnav, maddeningly, only smiled in return. A smug, infuriating smile.

"You’re right," he said coolly. "Death might be the only fitting repayment."

His words stunned her. Her tapping stopped. Her face twisted in disbelief. Was this man insane?

"I don’t want Arsene dead," she said, almost whispering. But even the idea made her stomach twist in knots. "The fact that you can talk about your brother’s death so lightly tells me everything I need to know about your character, Director Arnav."

Strangely, his lips curled upward into a smirk, not remorse. That smirk wicked, mocking sent chills down her spine.

"I wasn’t talking about Arsene," he said, his voice laced with cruel amusement. "I was talking about the hypothetical man you just described the scoundrel who seduced and abandoned your imaginary sister. That was your scenario, wasn’t it?"

His tone was playful, mocking.

"Stop dancing around, Sir Arnav. I came here for one reason. I want your brother to take responsibility. He must marry me!" Raellyn’s voice cracked as it rose, her chest heaving.

"Request denied."

This time, his seriousness hit like a slap. Raellyn stared at him, trying to decipher the unpredictable storm that was this man. His moods shifted like lightning across a volatile sky.

"What do you mean 'denied'?" Her voice was sharp, incredulous. "I’ve risked everything coming here! Do you think I did this on a whim?"

Arnav rested his cheek on his palm, unbothered.

"I don’t mean to make a joke of your little performance, Miss. But the truth is, my brother is already married. You were nothing more than a diversion for him a mistress."

The words were like acid poured directly onto her heart. Raellyn recoiled.

"You’re lying! You’re just covering for him! There’s no way I was a side piece. I would’ve known!"

But Arnav just smiled again that same maddening smile.

Her cheeks burned, and she swallowed hard. The thought was inconceivable. No, impossible. Arsene… married?

"That’s impossible "

"Let me clarify again," he said smoothly. "My brother has been married to Miss Sylvia since the beginning. You weren’t his first love. You were his kept woman. That’s why all I can offer you is money. And yes, I believe Arsene seduced you. Only a madwoman would barge into my office brandishing a blade and raving about love. I’ll admit, I’m impressed. But don’t think for a second that you’re the first woman who’s shown up with the same story."

The muscles in her forehead tightened. Her vision blurred with disbelief and humiliation. He was enjoying this. Every flicker of emotion on her face fed his smug arrogance.

"Judging by your expression, I see you’re still struggling to accept it," Arnav said. "Let me simplify the narrative for you. Because Arsene is a public figure, we initially tried to keep his love life under wraps. But now that the public knows the truth, we’re preparing an official statement. In fact, I’m currently expecting a nephew Sylvia is pregnant. If you’re wondering why the wedding announcement came late in the newspapers, it was just a symbolic reaffirmation of their vows, staged to look like the real thing."

Raellyn’s face went pale. The strength drained from her limbs. Her clenched fists now hung uselessly by her sides. Her mind reeled, spiraling into chaos. How could this be happening? Everything she believed in every promise, every soft whisper, every stolen moment was a lie.

Desperation gripped her.

"I need a proof."