Chapter 5
Penelope
I’d retrieved Lily Sutton’s ring for Sloan and found myself admiring it more than I should have. A radiant few carats in an
oval stone, set along a platinum band—it was delicate and romantic, like it promised a happily-ever-after. I tucked the ring
back in its velvet box and focused my attention on the spreadsheet.
I typed in another name—Carter Billings—as I sat at my kitchen island, in front of my laptop, and the warm, golden rays of
the morning sun streamed through the large windows.
For me, spreadsheets felt like therapy.
Or a weighted blanket.
They were a way to organize thoughts, anxieties, or problems into something manageable. So I’d cataloged every available bachelor
I knew in Manhattan that might be amenable to an arrangement of sorts. I didn’t have much time left to make a decision and I needed to.
I knew I needed to trust my intuition, but after a lifetime of making the wrong choices—at least in my family’s eyes—it was
hard to do that. If I couldn’t trust my own family to care for my best interest, how could I possibly have learned to do it
on my own?
A knock rattled at my door and pulled my fleeting attention. I leaned back a bit from my seat and could see the solid walnut door down the hallway. I glanced up at the clock, it was a little before noon. We were leaving for the Hamptons today, but Sloan was early.
I walked down the hall, glancing over to the stairway landing to confirm my bags were ready, and without thinking, I opened
the door. The warm summer air hit me, and my stomach dropped.
Every obligation I had back home in Singapore came bursting into my life. All neatly packed in one man: Maddox Xu, the man
I was supposed to marry.
He stood expectantly at my door in joggers and a plain gray shirt. His black hair was ruffled like he’d just landed from a
long flight. Piercing dark eyes and a handsome smile.
“I stopped by that bakery you like earlier,” he said casually as if I were expecting him, and handed me a pastry box.
Reeling from the surprise, I looked in the box to see a few croissants.
I didn’t like croissants; I liked the banana muffins. But Maddox didn’t.
“That’s very kind of you,” I finally spat out once my heart slowed to normal speed and the initial shock wore off. I took
the box from him and opened the door wider, allowing him in.
He wandered into my house, his hands tucked in his pockets as he glanced around the hallway and made his way to the kitchen.
“What happened to that houseplant in the corner?”
I looked to the corner of the kitchen where the sunlight streamed in over the breakfast table. Disappointment squeezed my
ribs. My poppy plant was dead.
“It’s gone,” I answered, following a few steps behind him. I took a deep breath. “Maddox, why are you here?”
“It’s time to move along with our lives, love.” Nostalgia floated along his Singaporean accent. The deceptive sound lured me to the less difficult path—the arranged marriage I’d resigned myself to for so long. Everyone in my family did it and it made me mistrust my own intuition, my own wants and needs, for even questioning it. He turned to face me, taking a few steps forward he closed the space between us. “I’m here to bring you home.”
“I can manage to get on a plane all by myself.”
“Well, pardon me, it seems like you’ve had quite a bit of trouble doing just that.” He chuckled lightly, but humorlessly,
to himself. “Besides, I can’t have you dealing with a move on your own. You don’t even have a staff, Penny.”
Maddox felt like my way to some idyllic Norman Rockwell painting. He and I spent our childhood summers in Singapore; the ones
that felt like a dream. In a time when my half sister and I had a real relationship before it went sour. His family, the Xus,
were close to mine.
I took a step back; I felt the cool countertop along my waist. “You didn’t need to come all the way here.”
The Xu family, pillars in Singaporean high society, saw me as a rarity. A Western title, Singaporean breeding, and money;
the perfect addition to their otherwise perfect bloodline.
Eastern and Western titles wrapped in a Singaporean-appearing heiress.
For Maddox, the eventuality of our union made him the favorite amongst his brothers. So much so that he parlayed that favor
to usurp his older brother as presumed heir to Xu Enterprises. For me, it meant I was spared some of the ire I would have
faced as the begrudgingly accepted product of a contentious divorce.
“Of course, I did.” He took a step closer to me and held my chin. He said it sweetly, but a chill ran up my spine, warning
me. More than anything, Maddox liked control.
I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. Anxiety seeped through me. I wanted to trust my instincts and just rip the Band-Aid off, strike out on my own, but it was daunting because I knew that would mean going against my family in a permanent way. When I moved here, it was always under the condition I’d move back when I got married. What if there was no return from this? Maddox was my way back and maybe my way to being loved by them and having the family I always pictured in my mind.
“Maddox, I don’t think we...” I tried to buy some time to think.
His brow furrowed. “Penelope, you can’t run away from this. Arabella took her place and it’s time you do, too.”
Arabella was twenty-eight, three years younger than me, and she married her version of Maddox a few years ago, keeping her
place as the family’s favorite. She seemed content taking on the role as socialite; she always loved that sort of thing. At
least she was happy, and I tried to make myself believe that I could be, too.
“Maddox, I’m happy with my life here,” I stated, the answer becoming more resolute in my mind with every passing second. The
more I convinced myself I could just fall in line, the more something inside me screamed not to. My heart raced. “I don’t think we should do this.”
All Maddox wanted out of life was to be the favorite son who took over Xu Enterprises. All he needed was his parents’ favor,
which he got in spades since I was eventually going to marry him. Those titles really meant everything to some people. I was
the perfect trophy.
“You’re happy? How? You’re alone. I have seen the same boxes along that wall for years.” He pointed to a random array of boxes
that I’d never unpacked. “Do you even have an American driver’s license?”
“I’ll figure it out. Lots of people don’t drive in the city.”
As I began to see just how much I might be missing in a preordained life, I began to gently push the boundaries—like postponing my move home—it brought out a different side of him. One that looked caring, but with Maddox, control was dressed as kindness.
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
“Well, you’re not listening to what I’m telling you.” My words stretched as I tried to remain diplomatic.
“I am listening,” he answered sharply. “You’re telling me that you’re breaking off our engagement.”
I never had a ring. I was supposed to go home last winter to formalize the engagement. Luckily my awful grandfather decided
to drop dead and that was an excuse to push things.
“I...” My voice lowered.
“What has possibly changed?” He moved in closer and ran his hands along my waist.
Maddox and I had known we’d sort of end up together for years, but we were practical about it, deciding between us that nothing
needed to be real until it had to be. “We said if it didn’t feel right or if we met someo—”
“An affair, Penelope?” His eyes narrowed, grip tightened. “Mere months before we’re supposed to be married?”
“Be serious,” I said calmly, gently pushing him an inch back. “You can’t call this a real relationship.”
“Call it what you want. But you expect me to believe and accept you’re going to defy our families for some man you’re seeing.”
He took a few steps back. I looked up, his irritation evaporated, and a smug grin replaced it. “Come on, Penny, there’s no
need to lie to me.”
An indignant flame sparked in my stomach.
“I told you to stop calling me that.” The serene timbre in my voice spiked to something more hostile. An irate burn blistered
down my body.
“You’re seeing someone? Someone whom I’ve heard nothing of. Whom your family knows nothing about?”
I swallowed against a throat that felt like it was lined with broken glass. “Yes.”
“Don’t lie to me,” he warned but not in a menacing way; he said it like he was trusted counsel.
My gut or intuition or something screamed what it had been desperate to put into words over the last year. That if I married
Maddox, that was it. Story over. I knew it wouldn’t be long before I became nothing more than Mrs. Xu. My life would be dictated
by his wants, his needs.
The courage that I didn’t have the last time he visited—the masquerade—finally found its way to me.
I turned away from him and took a few steps along the side of the counter. “I’m not lying.”
My stomach turned. A rapid tremble overcame every muscle fiber.
“Penelope...” he warned slowly.
My mind filled with my options.
I could go to Singapore, like I’d always planned to eventually do. Marry Maddox. Make my family happy and get the shares for
my mother. Or I could blow it all up, because I liked Manhattan, and my job, and my friends, and being my own person. But
would that be enough if it meant permanently cutting myself off from my family forever?
My eyes flickered around the white countertop until it stopped on the small black velvet box that sat quietly on it. The muffled
noise in my ears stopped and a clarity rang through.
Sitting atop my inheritance documents was Lily Sutton’s ring box. I opened it, and my fingers grabbed the ring. I pushed it
on.
“It’s relatively new.” I turned back around, my heart hammered against my ribs, but I held my composure. Despite the delicate
ring feeling like a boulder on my finger, something about wearing it was soothing.
A reassurance that charting my own path might be worth it. My fate might have lain in an anxiety-ridden spreadsheet, but the nausea began to subside.
His eyes roved over the ring, but instead of the anger I expected, his shoulders relaxed. He took another step back and looked
around.
“Where is this mystery man? Or is he also of the imaginary variety, Penny ?”
My mouth opened to respond but nothing came out. His eyes were fixed on mine, knowing I’d crumble eventually. He knew I was
lying and the humiliation threatened to demolish the short-lived confidence.
A knock at the door broke through the silence, our attention turned to the entryway.
I glanced up at the clock hanging on the wall.
“Penelope.” Xander’s voice called from the other side of the door. He wasn’t supposed to be here, but strangely, relief washed
over me.
The smugness etched across Maddox’s face began to diminish.
“Coming,” I answered.
In that moment, finally, I had the courage to accept that having no plan might be better than living a story I didn’t write
for myself.