Rebirth: Love me Again

[IRAYA]

"Uhm . . . I'm not sure what Lyander has been telling you, but it's not true," I began, my voice wavering slightly as I sat in the grand, overly intimidating study of Don Gregory—Lyander's father and, quite possibly, the lord devil himself.

Seated in front of me, the father-son duo appeared as though they were planning world domination, with me as the sacrificial lamb.

Don Gregory, a man who could probably buy a country with the coins in his pocket, watched me with an unsettling level of amusement. Meanwhile, Lyander lounged beside him, legs crossed, wearing a grin that screamed smug.
Read new chapters at My Virtual Library Empire

I felt like a mouse cornered by two particularly chatty cats.

Let's rewind for a moment. After Lyander's spectacular little announcement at the holiday party—where he boldly declared his undying affection for me in front of everyone and their extended family—I'd barricaded myself in my room for the remainder of the holidays.

No amount of coaxing, bribing, or threats could get me to leave. Well, that was true until this morning, when Don Gregory's bodyguards decided that subtlety wasn't their style.

Let me paint the picture for you: four massive, suited men barged into my apartment, looking like they'd just stepped off the set of a high-budget action film.

Did they knock? Nope. Did they kindly ask me to accompany them? Also no. Instead, they stood there, all six-foot-something of muscle and sunglasses, as one of them said, "Miss, you need to come with us."

And they had guns. Big ones.

At that point, I didn't need much convincing. I went peacefully—if by peacefully you mean being herded out of my apartment like a suspect in a high-profile crime.

My bodyguards? Useless. The moment Don Gregory's men arrived, they surrendered faster than a cheap umbrella in a hurricane. Honestly, I'm calling the agency later. What am I even paying them for?

So, there I was, unceremoniously dragged to their mansion—a sprawling estate that screamed, We have more money than we know what to do with.

Now, I was seated across from the two men who looked way too pleased with themselves.

"What do you mean, mija?" Don Gregory asked, leaning forward with a gleam in his eye.

Mija? I didn't know what that meant, but it sounded affectionate. And the way he said it? I had to remind myself that he wasn't trying to woo me. Don't fall for it, girl.

"Well," I said, trying to keep my tone diplomatic, "Lyander and I aren't . . . you know, a thing."

"Wrong," Lyander interrupted smoothly, the grin on his face widening. "I like you. You're the one who doesn't like me."

Don Gregory chuckled, clapping his son on the back. "Then it's settled. Let's pick a date for the wedding."

Wait—what? Was this man serious? Was this a prank? A hidden camera show? I glanced around the room, half-expecting a crew to jump out shouting, Gotcha! But no, this was real.

"Uhm . . . , aren't you at all interested in what I think?" I asked, my voice rising slightly.

Don Gregory tilted his head like a confused puppy. "I don't see the problem, mija. Once you're married, you'll learn to love him."

"I—uh—no," I stammered, my frustration mounting. "I don't think I will."

"What don't you like about my son?" he pressed, his tone genuinely perplexed. "Sure, he's a little rough around the edges, but he's handsome, rich, my heir—did I mention handsome and rich?"

I blinked at him. This man cannot be serious. That's the best you've got? Handsome and rich? Isn't he your son? You couldn't think of a single personality trait? Not one redeeming quality?

Lyander, of course, looked immensely pleased with himself. "See? Even my dad thinks I'm the whole package."

"Yeah, the whole package," I muttered under my breath, "with missing instructions and no return policy."

"What was that?" Lyander asked, leaning in with a smirk.

"Nothing," I said quickly, plastering on the fakest smile I could manage.

Don Gregory waved a hand, dismissing my objections like they were a minor inconvenience. "Don't worry, mija. I'm sure you'll come around. Lyander is a great catch."

Yeah, a catch all right—like catching the flu.

I resisted the urge to scream. Instead, I settled for staring at them both, wondering how in the world I was going to escape this madhouse.

And for the record? I was definitely Googling "how to file a restraining order against a billionaire" the moment I got home.

That is, if I ever got home. Judging by the way Don Gregory was looking at me, escape didn't seem to be in the cards unless I walked down the aisle with his son.

"Uhm . . . I don't think I'm a great fit for Lyander," I said hesitantly, trying to think of a diplomatic way to diffuse this madness. "I mean, I'm not really that beautiful. I'm tall and skinny, and my family doesn't match yours in status. Lyander wouldn't benefit from being with me at all."

The Don threw his head back and laughed, a deep, hearty sound that echoed through the cavernous room like he'd just heard the best joke of the year. "Don't be modest, mija. I've already done my research."

Research? Oh no.

He continued, completely unbothered by my horrified expression. "You're the daughter of Lance and Zoe Lee. Your father is the brother of Leanna Fay, which makes your family tied to the Fay family. I don't think there's a better girl to fit my son than you."

My jaw dropped. He's dug up my entire family tree. The room spun for a moment as I tried to process that this man had probably hired a private investigator to dig into every aspect of my life. This wasn't just matchmaking—it was a corporate merger.

Realizing that Don Gregory wasn't about to back down, my eyes shifted to Lyander, narrowing into a glare. This was his fault. He'd started this fiasco, so he could be the one to end it.

I widened my eyes at him, trying to silently convey my desperation. Do something!