Chapter 2

The office fell silent as Olivia departed, her devastated expression etched in the minds of the two men remaining. Nathan, Christopher's friend and assistant, broke the silence with a thoughtful comment.

"That was harsh, Christopher. She looked like she had nothing left," Nathan said, his voice tinged with empathy, accompanied by a small, sympathetic smile.

Christopher shrugged, his expression unyielding. "Not my problem," he replied, his tone detached, as he returned to the files on his desk.

Meanwhile, Olivia stepped out of the building, the cool air outside offering little solace for the ache in her heart. Desperation fueled her determination. Time was running out for her brother, and she knew she had to act swiftly. The exact amount Christopher would demand was unknown, but she was resolute in her pursuit to secure his services, no matter the cost.

Back in the office, Christopher's phone rang, breaking the silence. He answered, his voice crisp. "Christopher here."

The caller's words were inaudible, but Christopher's response hinted at a development. "Already? Okay. I'm not too busy. Text the location right now. Bye."

As the call ended, Christopher's eyes darkened, his expression introspective. Nathan noticed the change and asked, "What's the issue?"

Christopher's lips paused, his voice measured. "My father's will. It will be read today."

Nathan's curiosity was piqued. "I wonder what he left for you."

Christopher's gaze drifted, his thoughts seemingly elsewhere. Nathan's suggestion, however, prompted him into action. "Let's go check it out then."

With a sigh, Christopher pushed himself up from the chair, his movements economical. He gathered his belongings, his eyes fixed on some point beyond the room, as if already contemplating the revelations that awaited him.

After an hour-long drive, Christopher and Nathan arrived at the attorney's office, a sleek, modern building with a manicured lawn. The GPS had led them to a quiet, upscale neighborhood, where the sounds of nature and distant chatter filled the air.

As they stepped into the office, they were greeted by a middle-aged man with a warm, friendly smile. Damien, the attorney, stood up from behind his mahogany desk, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Christopher," he said, stretching out his hand for a handshake. Christopher took it, his grip firm but brief.

"Damien," he replied, his tone neutral, before taking a seat in one of the plush armchairs.

Nathan followed suit, exchanging a nod with Damien, who acknowledged him with a courteous smile.

"Please, sit," Damien said, gesturing to the armchair beside Christopher.

As they settled in, Damien's expression turned somber. "How are you faring, Christopher?" he asked, his voice tinged with empathy.

Christopher raised an eyebrow, his annoyance evident. "Please, can you go straight to the point?" he replied, his tone clipped.

Damien blinked, taken aback by Christopher's brusqueness. He cleared his throat, regaining his composure.

"Very well," he said, opening the drawer on his side table. He pulled out a sheaf of papers, his eyes scanning the contents before he spoke.

"Your father left properties worth five hundred million dollars," he announced, his voice measured.

Nathan's eyes widened, a wild grin spreading across his face as he turned to Christopher. But Christopher's expression remained impassive, his eyes narrowed slightly.

"Sounds too good to be true," he said, his tone skeptical.

Damien's smile faltered, and he scratched his head, a nervous gesture. "There is...one condition," he said, his voice hesitant.

Christopher's eyes snapped back to Damien, his interest piqued. "What is it?" he asked, his tone sharp.

Damien took a deep breath before speaking. "Your father wants you married."

Christopher's laughter echoed through the office, a deep, mocking sound that sent a shiver down Damien's spine. "Marriage? Love? Are you kidding me?" he exclaimed, his eyes scanning the paper Damien had handed him.

As he read the condition, his expression transformed from amusement to disgust. His face twisted in contempt, and he felt a wave of frustration wash over him.

Nathan, however, was ecstatic. "This is wonderful, Chris!" he exclaimed, his eyes shining with excitement. "You'll be set for life! Five hundred million dollars is a fortune!"

Christopher's frustration grew. His father had always been stubborn, refusing to let his children rely on his wealth. He had wanted them to succeed on their own merit, without the burden of his fortune. Now, he was forcing him into a loveless marriage to claim his inheritance.

"A month?" Christopher spat, his voice incredulous. "He's giving me a month to find a wife? That's insane!"

Damien nodded sympathetically. "I'm afraid so, Christopher. Your father was very specific about the conditions. He wanted to ensure that you settled down and started a family."

Christopher's anger boiled over. He stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. "My siblings? Did they get anything?" he demanded, his voice firm.

Damien nodded. "Yes, they each received a share of the estate, but yours is the largest. Your father wanted to ensure that you were taken care of."

Christopher's eyes narrowed. He felt trapped, forced into a situation he despised. With a curt smile, he turned to leave. "I'll get back to you," he said, his voice dripping with resentment.

As they stepped out of the office, Nathan caught up to him. "Have a plan?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Christopher shook his head. "None. I hate the very concept of marriage. It's all just a sham, a way to trap people into a lifelong commitment."

A wry smile twisted his lips. "Even in death, my father always finds a way to get what he wants."

Nathan chuckled. "Should I find a woman for you?" he proposed, his tone light.

Christopher sighed, his shoulders sagging in defeat. "Please do. I need someone who's willing to play along with this charade."

As they walked to the car, Christopher's mind was already racing with the implications of his father's will. He knew that he had to find a wife, but he was determined to do it on his own terms.

Just then, Christopher's phone rang, piercing the silence. He answered, his expression turning grave as he listened to the voice on the other end. His eyes narrowed, and he sighed, rubbing his temples as if to ward off a headache.

"I have a meeting," he told Nathan, his voice firm and authoritative. "An important one. I'll drop you off, and then I'll head out."

Nathan's curiosity was piqued, and he raised an eyebrow. "Who's the meeting with?" he asked, but Christopher just shook his head, his eyes glinting with a hint of secrecy.

"Not now, Nathan. Let's just focus on getting you home," he said, his tone dismissive but polite.

They drove off, leaving the attorney's office behind. The city streets blurred together as they navigated through the crowded roads.

Meanwhile, across town, Olivia stepped out of the jailhouse, blinking in the bright sunlight. The warm rays on her skin were a stark contrast to the cold, unforgiving atmosphere of the jail. Her eyes welled up with tears as she thought about her brother, locked away behind bars, his freedom stripped away.

After their parents' passing, Olivia had taken on the responsibility of caring for her younger brother. She had sworn to protect him, to provide for him, and to give him a good life. She had been his rock, his confidante, and his guardian. But life had other plans.

Her brother's arrest had shattered her world, leaving her feeling helpless and desperate. She had always been the strong one, the one who held everything together, but now she felt like she was crumbling.

Olivia took a deep breath, steeling herself for the challenges ahead. She would not rest until her brother was safe, until justice was served. She would do whatever it takes, fight whoever she had to, to clear his name and restore his freedom.