Bound By Fate, Freed By Love

Scarlett Donovan pov

I didn’t cry at my wedding. I didn’t smile either.

The room smelled like lilies and power. Everyone dressed like they were about to sign a deal, not witness a marriage. And in a way, they weren’t wrong.

Stiff in a suit that likely cost more than my car, Leonard Blackwood stood beside me.  He had a tight jaw.  His gaze was frigid.  Not once did he glance at me.

 I did not require him to.

 The officiant spoke like a guy reading off a corporate memo.  Leonard leaned close, not to kiss me but to whisper when he said, "You may now kiss the bride."

 "This does not change anything," he said, his breath barely touching my cheek.  Expect no more than my name.

 I maintained his stare.  I replied, "Good."  Your name is not what I want.  Your silence is what I seek.

 He blinked once.

 Two strangers tied by a contract, we looked to the throng.

 --- 

 Hours later, the party roared behind us, full of laughter that didn’t belong to us.   Beside Leonard, I sat in the rear of the black vehicle.  We hadn’t said a word since the ceremony. 

 Outside, Los Angeles glowed like it always did—perfect, fake, and full of secrets. 

 Leonard finally spoke.   My grandfather conceived this.

 I understand.

 He thinks we should share a house.

 I agreed.  I am all set.

 He chuckled softly, the sort that was not a laugh at all.  Scarlett, do not try to play house with me.  This is not a fairy tale.

 Leonard, I am not the one who believes in fairy tales.

 He gazed at me then.  Gazed.  Though I could not read his expression, I noticed a flicker of something—annoyance?  Curiosity?  Bewilderment?

 I turned first.

 I turned first.

 It was a big house.  Chilly.  Costly.

 We came, and a maid opened the door.  Leonard entered unannounced.  My heels tapped on the marble floor as I followed.

 He said, not looking, "You will have your room."  Do anything you like.  Just stay out of my way.” 

 "Deal," I replied, already up the steps.

 He called after me.   “And don’t bring anyone here.” 

 I stopped halfway up.   I will not, Leonard.  Unlike you, I do not require diversions to feel strong.

 Quiet.

 Then the sound of his departure.

 My room was all glass, chrome, and cash.

 All glass, chrome, and cash, my room was where  I gradually unpacked.  Every fold brought me back to my purpose, not because I had much, but rather.

 This was desired by my grandfather.  His last wish.  A marriage between two strong families.  A name linked to another.

 I was not here for love.  I was not here for Leonard.

 I was here since I had promised a man on his deathbed that I would complete this one task.

 And I never broke a promise. 

 --- 

 Later that night, I stood on the balcony alone.   The city buzzed below like a million little secrets.   I didn’t miss my old apartment.   I didn’t miss anything. 

 The door creaked open behind me. 

 I didn’t turn. 

 Though soft, Leonard's voice was piercing.  "Are you going to act in public as the good wife?"

 I said, "I will smile when required."  Your arm will be held by me.  The ring will be on me.

 What about when no one is watching?

 I turned then, looking directly at him.

 I will be myself.  What about you?  You will avoid my path.

 His jaw tightened again.   You are not what I anticipated.

 That is good, I remarked.  Predictability would be terrible for me.

 He approached.  Not menacing, just... inquisitive.  As though he were unsure of my type of lady.

 "Why did you agree to this?"

 "Because someone I loved requested it."

 So, is that sufficient?

 "It must be."

 He looked at me for a beat.  Scarlett, I will not love you.

 Your love is not required.

 What do you then require?

 I said "Space."  “Silence.   Perhaps a good door lock as well.

 Something in him flickered again.   I could not call it.

 He stated, "I can provide you with all of that."

 "I understand."

 I woke up in the night, parched.

 Thirsty, I awoke in the middle of the night.  The house was quiet.  Barefoot, I walked to the kitchen, being careful not to make any noise.

 Then I caught it.

 A voice—Leonard's—sharp and low.

 I stopped close to the corridor.  He was calling.

 He replied, "No."  “She’s not a threat.   She's... not simple.

 Stop.

 I do not believe her.  But that is not the issue.

 A further break.

 She keeps things to herself.  I can see.

 His voice fell even lower.

 And I mean to learn each one of them.

Does he plan to find out my secrets?

That would be amusing if it were not so near the reality. 

  I backed up slowly and was careful not to let the floor make noise.   When I came back to my room, I was no longer tired.  I perched on the bed's edge and looked down at the ring on my finger.

It was beautiful. Large. Cold. Just like him.

He thinks I’m hiding something.

He’s right.

But the thing about Leonard Blackwood is, he underestimates people who don’t shout. He sees quiet as a weakness. Control as softness.

Let him.

Let him try.

The next morning, I walked into the kitchen like I hadn’t heard a thing. Leonard was already there, shirt sleeves rolled up, reading something on his phone with a mug in hand.

He didn’t look up.

“Morning,” I said, casually.

He gave a slight nod. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a rock.”

Silence stretched between us like a second wall. He wasn’t a man used to small talk, and I wasn’t in the mood to teach him.

“Do you have plans today?” he asked finally.

“I do.”

He looked up. “What kind?”

“Private ones.”

He blinked, just once, and went back to his phone. I poured myself a coffee. I didn’t ask if he wanted any.

Later, I met with my attorney in a quiet café downtown. Not for legal battles—yet—but for updates. My accounts, my trusts, my control over the Donovan Foundation. All intact. Quiet. Untouched by this marriage.

That mattered.

“Everything’s clean,” she told me. “Still want to keep your name off the public documents tied to the merger?”

“For now,” I said. “Leonard doesn’t need to know how much I own.”

My attorney raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. “He’s smart. He’ll find out eventually.”

“Let him.”

When I got home, the house was empty. Or so I thought.

I passed the home gym—lights off.

Until I heard the soft sound of movement.

I paused.

Pushed the door open.

There he was.

Leonard Blackwood, in a black t-shirt and sweats, throws punches into a hanging bag with slow, focused precision. His back was slick with sweat. His eyes locked on the bag like it had insulted him.

He looked human. Not perfect. Not polished.

Just... mad.

I watched a moment longer than I should have.

Then he saw me.

He stopped. Breathing hard. Hands still raised.

“Didn’t know you were home,” he said, voice rough.

“Didn’t know you boxed.”

“I don’t. Not really.”

I nodded and turned to go.

But before I made it to the door, he asked, “What are your secrets, Scarlett?”

I froze.

He walked toward me, slow and measured. His hair was damp, his stare sharp.

“You keep things tight. Clean. Every word picked like a chess piece.”

“And that bothers you?”

“No. But it means I have to watch you.”

I turned my head.  So far, what have you observed?

 He halted in front of me, neither too near nor too far.

 You do not frighten me, he said.

 Nobody scares me.

 His mouth moved as though he wanted to smile, but did not know how.

 You know, I could make your life difficult.

 I grinned.  This time, it was my own.  Leonard, I have survived worse than you.

 He looked as though he wanted to know what that meant, but refrained.

 He set me free.

 I never turned back.

 Brushing my hair in front of the mirror that night, I stood.  I considered his remarks.  His stare.   His punching bag fists.

 He had a tempest within.

Good.

So did I.

At 2:13 AM, I woke to a sound.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. Unknown number. One-word text:

“Careful.”

Scarlett Donovan POV

I woke up early. Not because I had to. I just didn’t sleep much after the text.

Careful.

No name. I have no idea. However, I made some educated guesses. Even if you were quietly married off, you were always the target of someone because you were a Donovan.

I did not respond. Not because I did not want to know. But because someone was already watching in case they wanted to warn me. I also disliked being observed.

The house was silent downstairs. Too silent. It never felt warm, despite its size. Living inside a jewellery box, it was all stone and gleam.

Leonard was in the dining room when I found him. already dressed, sipping coffee, and using a tablet to read something.His hair was still damp from his recent shower. The man was built as though he thought emotions were a handicap and lived in a gym.

He did not raise his head.

He said simply, "I want to talk."

I took notice of that. I did not care if he liked t