Sold To The Masked Billionaire

"Sit down, Lyra."

My father's command sends a shiver down my spine, and I freeze at the door. At first, my feet are immobile. His tone causes my stomach to twist and churn. With a gentle click that seems louder than it should be, the door behind me closes as I finally enter the study.

"What's wrong, Dad?" With a smaller-than-intended voice, I ask. Speaking feels weird, almost like I'm trying to wake up from an unending nightmare. His normally tidy clothing is a little rumpled, and his face is dull as if he had been up for hours worried. I already know that this will not be a typical chat.

He says it again, "Sit," in a softer but still tense voice.

My heart hammering against my ribs, I sink into the chair across from him. The only sound in the room is the faint ticking of a clock in the corner. My father's eyes don't look as they usually do when he looks at me. The eyes of the powerful man who always had things under control are hazy and far away. Something has changed.

I take a deep breath. Tell me, Dad, please. What is happening? 

With a hand stroking his graying hair, he exhales deeply. His eyes move to the papers in front of him, which are strewn all over his desk like fragments of a broken puzzle. He lifts one, smoothes it out, and then turns it toward me, his hands shaking a little. 

I look at the page, attempting to interpret the lines and numbers that I don't comprehend. But it makes no difference. His expression says it all.

"We're done, Lyra." His words pierce me like a hefty stone, and his voice is gruff. "The company is in ruins." Everything is gone. He seems to be seeking strength before continuing, as he leans back in his chair and briefly closes his eyes. We are overwhelmed by all of the bills, investments, and loans. There is no escape.

I look at him, speechless. My thoughts racing, and my throat tightens. I want to scream, but I can't make any noise. This is not logical. 

"You're kidding, aren't you?" I attempt, speaking in a barely audible whisper, in the hopes that he will laugh and tell me it's all a horrible joke. However, his expression remains unchanged.

His eyes do not touch me as he whispers, "I wish I were." However, we have no other choices. Lyra, I've tried everything. There is currently only one option available.

Although I'm not sure what he means, I can tell by the icy fear that it's not anything I want to hear.

"What... what option?" I mumble, nearly terrified of the response.

His eyes feel heavy as he looks at me. "You must wed Kensington Creed."

I felt like I was slapped across the face by the words. I blink, finding it difficult to process what he just stated. "What?" I stutter. "Creed in Kensington? Do you wish for me to wed him?

I can't even visualize his face; all I can think of are the rumors and stories that seem too fantastical to be real. The man's name is all over, but it's always in whispers and connected to things I'd rather not consider. Rich. strong. Risky.

My father adds in a flat, resigned voice, "Lyra, this is not a request." "He alone is capable of saving us."

My hands became icy. I struggle to maintain a steady voice. But why him? Kensington Creed: Why?