Not The Fairy Tale I Signed Up For

As Emma silently recited the words, a sudden whoosh of air swept over her, brushing against her face and body. The unexpected current sent a shiver down her spine, as though she had stepped into an invisible breeze. The sensation passed quickly, but a faint unease lingered. Something didn't feel quite right.

She blinked and glanced around. The restaurant looked exactly as it had before—diners chatting, cutlery clinking, the soft murmur of conversation continuing uninterrupted. Her gaze drifted to the waiter, or rather, to the spot where the waiter had been. It was empty now.

Frowning, she glanced toward the kitchen doors. 'Must've gone back,' she thought, brushing off the peculiar feeling as she tried to focus.

Her fingers tightened around the book in her lap. 'Was it just my imagination?' But deep down, she felt it wasn't. Something about the air, the atmosphere, seemed… heavier and different.

"Miss Whitmore?"

Emma's head snapped up, startled. A waiter stood before her, holding a small envelope.

"Sorry?" she stammered, her eyes narrowing. Whitmore? Her pulse quickened as she glanced around, making sure no one else seemed to have noticed.

"I think you have the wrong person," she said hurriedly, her voice sharper than she intended. She put the book down, her fingers brushing the table as if anchoring herself back in reality.

The waiter hesitated, then stepped forward, extending the envelope. "Apologies, but aren't you Miss Emma Whitmore? Mr. Leon has arranged for you to join him on a cruise dinner for the New Year's countdown."

Emma frowned, her confusion quickly turning to irritation. "Excuse me, but you've got the wrong person," she said firmly. "My name is Emma Rowan. Rowan, not Whitmore!"

She stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. Without waiting for the waiter's response, she grabbed her things and headed for the door, her annoyance masking the uneasy knot forming in her chest.

Stopping just in front of the entrance, she closed her eyes and drew in a long, steadying breath. Opening them, she turned sharply to glare at the restaurant door, as if her frustration alone might force it to grow arms and defend itself. Of course, it didn't—it was just a door. But that didn't stop her from silently accusing it anyway.

"Whitmore?" she muttered, rolling her eyes up toward the restaurant's signage. But as her gaze landed on it, her eyes widened in shock. "Wait… isn't this supposed to be Avante Bella?"

She took an uncertain step back, still staring at the sign like it might change if she blinked enough. Rubbing both of her eyes, she muttered to herself, "I must be imagining things… or maybe the steak was laced with something." 

The bold letters spelling Avante Belle remained unchanged, gleaming softly in the light as Emma turned and briskly walked away.

"Miss…" Emma's steps halted as two men in suits suddenly appeared in front of her, blocking her path.

Her mind screamed at her to run, and she stepped back cautiously. "What do you want?" she asked, her voice tense.

"We're sorry, Miss Emma, but the Master gave strict orders to ensure you meet Mr. Leon tonight," one of the men said. Before she could react, the other man stepped forward and lifted her onto his shoulder like a sack of flour.

"Hey! Put me down!" Emma yelled, kicking her legs and pounding her fists on his back. "Help! Somebody help me!"

But her cries were ignored. People nearby glanced in her direction, only to quickly avert their eyes as if pretending they hadn't seen a thing. Emma's heart sank, and panic gripped her chest. 'Why are they ignoring me? I'm being kidnapped here!'

She squirmed harder, kicking and yelling, but the man holding her didn't falter. It was as if everyone around her had silently agreed that this wasn't their problem.

Carefully placed into the car, Emma barely had time to react before the man closed the door firmly behind her. As if straight out of every drama she'd ever watched, her first instinct was to escape. She reached for the door handle, only to find it locked. Panic surged through her as she frantically searched along the door, trying to figure out how to unlock it and make a run for it. Her fingers fumbled over every edge and button, but nothing seemed to work.

"Master ordered me to send you to Mr. Leon's cruise and asked that you return home after the New Year celebration," the man said as he entered the car, delivering the information calmly, leaving Emma frozen and confused.

The car picked up speed on the road, and after a long moment of silence, Emma finally found the courage to speak. "Who is this 'master' you're talking about? And Leon—Mr. Leon—are you referring to Leon Gray?" She asked, her voice a mix of suspicion and disbelief.

The man glanced at her briefly, his brows furrowed in mild confusion. "Your father, Miss Emma. And yes, I'm referring to Mr. Leon Gray."

"My father?!" Emma's sharp exclamation caused the driver to slam on the brakes at a red light, jolting everyone forward.

"Miss… are you alright?" The man quickly turned to check on her, concern evident in his voice.

Emma, still trying to process his words, stared blankly at her lap. "Are you telling me… my father… Allan Whitmore… ordered you to bring me home?"

"Yes, Miss." Jack nodded earnestly, though his expression remained puzzled. "Mr. Allan wanted to apologise for everything that's happened over the past few months—"

"Excuse me?! Past months?" Emma's anger flared as she interrupted him. Her eyes narrowed as she demanded, "What's your name?"

"I'm Jack, Miss Emma," he replied, his tone cautious yet polite.

Emma folded her arms, her frustration mounting. "So, Jack… tell Allan Whitmore he can save his apology. And you can drop me off right now!"

"But, Miss… we can't." Jack's expression turned awkwardly guilty. "Mr. Leon is already waiting for you there, and… the engagement event is ready."

"Engagement?!" Emma practically shouted, 'What the hell is happening?!'