𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝙺𝙸𝙽 𝚂𝙷𝙾𝚆

EPISODE 18- THE DATE

The evening at Mariah’s house was supposed to be an intimate celebration— a dinner for just the Mitchells and me, accompanied by the usual staff and security. But from the moment I arrived, a sense of unease hung in the air.

Marcus’s mother, Mariah, greeted me with a strained smile, while Mr. Mitchell- Marcus’s father, eyed me with a cold, disapproving glare. Marcus seemed on edge, his eyes flicking nervously between his father and me.

“Nina, maybe it’s best if you leave,” Marcus suggested quietly, his voice tinged with desperation.

Before I could respond, Mr. Mitchell’s harsh voice cut through the tension. “Marcus, I’ve already told you to keep her away.”

Mariah stepped in, her voice soothing yet laced with worry. “Darling, let’s keep this civil. Nina is just a colleague. She’s not here to cause trouble.”

"I warned you already, hadn't I Nina?" Mr. Mitchell directed his anguish on me. His harsh tone and stern eyes were the same as that day in the vineyard. His hatred for me was palpable.

"You called her yourself, now don't scare the child off!" Mariah intervened.

"I wanted to test Marcus "Mr. Mitchell’s gaze was unwavering as he fixed it on Marcus. “If she dies, it shouldn’t affect you. She’s just a colleague. Nothing more!”

A chill ran down my spine as Mr. Mitchell’s hand moved towards his coat pocket. My heart raced as he pulled out a gun, aiming it directly at me. “Let’s see if you’re capable of running our legacy, Marcus.”

Marcus’s face went pale, his body trembling as he stepped between us. “Dad, she's innocent!”

Mr. Mitchell’s expression was grim. “You're ready to die for this girl if it means ending this farce.”

Mariah’s face was a mix of panic and determination. “Sweetheart, this is madness!” She lunged for the gun, and in a swift, chaotic movement, she managed to wrestle it from him. A deafening shot rang out, filling the room with terror.

Mr. Mitchell staggered, a pained grimace on his face, before collapsing on the floor. Blood pooled around him as Mariah stood over him, the gun still in her trembling hand. “You made me do it” she whispered, her voice breaking.

The scene descended into chaos. Mr. Mitchell was rushed to the hospital, but the damage was too severe. He was declared dead due to excessive blood loss.

The opulent dining room, once a symbol of celebration, now felt heavy with grief and loss. Marcus’s demeanor hardened as he withdrew emotionally, becoming cold and distant. He rejected any attempts at sympathy, his face set in a grim, unyielding mask.

Days turned into weeks, and Marcus assumed control of his father’s business empire. His mother, overwhelmed by the tragedy and unable to cope with the new reality, returned to her hometown of Budapest. The mansion felt emptier without her.

I visited Marcus, hoping to offer my support and perhaps reconnect. When I arrived at the mansion, I was taken aback to find Marcus preparing for a blind date arranged by his mother.

“Marcus, are you really going through with this?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady, though my heart was aching.

He glanced at me with a guarded expression. “It’s what’s expected of me. My mother’s wishes.”

Jealousy surged within me. “You can’t be serious. Just like that, what about you? Your feelings ”

Desperation took over, and I made a bold move. “Don't go on this date.”

Marcus’s eyes widened with surprise and hesitation. “Nina, I—”

“Please, Marcus.” I begged, feeling a surge of vulnerability.

He sighed heavily, conflicted but ultimately acquiesced. “I have to- ask me anything I'll do that but I need to go”

"If you're going, then just go only in underwears!" I put a weird condition hoping he'd refuse going on date, out of desperation.

"Nina" he sighed and placed his hand on my cheeks "Okay-"

He agreed on my absurd request to go on a blind date with a rich brat just in underwear. I watched him leave in nothing but black boxers, the maids who witnessed it, seemed shy and confused.

As the evening approached, I prepared for our impromptu date, my heart racing with a mixture of anticipation and dread. I dressed provocatively, hoping to rekindle any spark of desire from Marcus.

When Marcus arrived, my hopes soared. But his expression was cold and detached. “She rejected me,” he said flatly.

A wave of relief and heartbreak washed over me. “Oh, that’s- good. I mean, it means we have the night to ourselves.”

Marcus’s face remained unreadable. “I’m sorry, Nina. I wasn’t looking for what you think. I'm not after your body.”

His words felt like a dagger to my heart. The realization that my feelings were not reciprocated struck me hard. I tried to mask my pain, but the weight of his indifference was crushing.

"You don't find me attractive anymore?" I questioned. Which he never answered, he just left. Leaving me alone in he's room. I didn't have energy to follow him or request him anymore.

The night dragged on, despite our attempt at connection. Marcus remained distant, his focus on something else entirely. As I lay in bed alone with my thoughts, the weight of the evening pressed heavily on me. I tried to find solace in the memory of what we once shared, but the reality of Marcus’s detachment was undeniable.

The quiet of the night was a harsh reminder of the chasm that had grown between us. I closed my eyes, hoping for a reprieve from the pain, but the ache in my heart lingered, a constant reminder of the love that had slipped through my fingers.

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