Chapter 2: Three Days of Mercy

I was about to walk away, ready to cut ties for good, when Grandpa Langley burst in from the hospital.

The front door slammed open. His cane clattered against the floorboards.

He saw me heading for the door and dropped to his knees. No hesitation. The old man’s knees hit the hardwood. My heart lurched—he was too old for this.

"Evan, please, give the Langley family one more chance."

His voice shook, thick with desperation. I’d never seen him beg. Not for anyone.

"You've lived here for five years—are you really going to walk away from all of it?"

He looked around the house, at the family photos, at the staff peeking in. The weight of all those years pressed down on us both.

Even the housekeeper and maids had always been kind to me. If the Langley family fell, they’d all lose their jobs.

Mrs. Jenkins baked me cookies every Christmas. The gardeners waved when I came home. I owed them more than I realized.

Grandpa Langley crawled closer, grabbing my sleeve. His grip was surprisingly strong.

"My granddaughter is blind to your kindness. She's let you down."

He looked at me, tears brimming in his eyes.

"But she's still young. If she goes back to her cursed fate, how could she survive?"

He was pleading for her, for the family, for everything we’d built. I felt my resolve start to crack.

"Even one day as husband and wife should count for something. Evan, please show mercy and give her one more chance."

He bowed his head, shoulders shaking. My throat tightened.

I looked at Marissa, standing by the staircase in her white dress. She was fragile, and after caring for her for five years, she’d already found a place in my heart.

She stood there, arms crossed, eyes red. I remembered the first time she’d smiled at me, how hope had bloomed in my chest.

Should I give her another chance?

The question echoed in my head, impossible to answer. I felt like I was staring into the void.

But she didn’t care, just trying to pull Grandpa Langley to his feet.

She tugged at his arm. "Grandpa, get up. This is ridiculous."

"Grandpa, why are you kneeling to him? He's a predator? Then so am I."

She glared at me, her lips curling in disdain.

She shot me that look, pure contempt. Something inside me snapped.

Grandpa Langley’s face twisted with rage. He slapped her, sending her to the floor.

The sound echoed through the foyer.

She crumpled, stunned. I moved toward her, but she shoved me away.

"How could the Langley family have such an ungrateful descendant?"

His voice thundered, trembling with grief and anger. The staff stood frozen.

He sighed. "If misfortune hadn't clung to you and my son hadn't died so young—and if I'd had any other children—you wouldn't have been allowed to marry Evan."

His words were heavy with years of regret. Marissa’s face crumpled, tears spilling down her cheeks.

She sat on the floor like a broken bird, holding her face and looking heartbroken.

She sobbed, shoulders shaking. For a moment, I almost reached out to comfort her, but stopped myself. Some things couldn’t be fixed.

"Grandpa, you'll regret this. I'll prove to everyone that he's a fraud."

She spat the words, glaring at me like I was the villain. Then she pushed herself up and ran from the room.

The old man kept kneeling, begging. I was this close to repaying what I owed him for helping my parents, so I agreed to give Marissa three more days.

He stayed on his knees until I finally relented. Three days—no more.

If she didn't change her ways by then, I'd cut ties with the Langley family for good.

I made the promise quietly. My hands shook as I helped Grandpa to his feet.

I rubbed my fingertips together, trying to steady myself. Marissa, you'd better take care of yourself.

The worry gnawed at me. I wanted to believe she could change, but deep down, I knew better.

Grandpa Langley handed me a card and told me to go to an auction to clear my head.

He pressed the card into my palm, his hand trembling. "Take a break, son. Maybe it'll help."

The star item was a string of prayer beads I'd made for Marissa when I crafted her cross. After being prayed over for forty-nine days, churchgoers went wild for them.

Funny how things came full circle. I’d poured my soul into those beads, hoping they’d bring her peace.

Pastor Samuel didn't know who to give them to, so he sent them to auction.

He’d called me, voice apologetic.