Engagement

The alarm never rang. Allenzio woke up because his phone vibrated nonstop against the wooden nightstand, the sound dull and persistent, like someone knocking on a door they knew would eventually be opened. His eyes opened slowly at first, unfocused, adjusting to the dim light of the bedroom. The clock on the wall reads 4:07 a.m. Too early for business, too late for peace. He lay still for a moment, one arm draped across his chest, the other hanging off the edge of the bed, fingers brushing the cold surface of the table. His jaw tightened when he finally reached for the phone. He did not need to unlock it to know who it was from. The screen lit up with stacked notifications, dozens of them, all from the same contact saved simply as Mother. Messages from two days ago. Yesterday afternoon. Last night. And now, before dawn. His thumb hovered over the screen as if touching it might trigger something irreversible.

Allenzio sat up, running a hand through his hair, pushing it back in a familiar, impatient motion. The sheets slid down his bare shoulders, revealing the rigid lines of his posture, the kind that came from years of discipline and tension rather than comfort. He exhaled through his nose, slow and controlled.

“She really doesn’t sleep,” he muttered to the empty room. The phone buzzed again, right on cue, as if his mother had sensed his awareness. Another message. Another demand. He did not open it immediately. Instead, his gaze drifted toward the window, where the city was still dark and quiet, unaware of the pressure closing in on him from a single woman who had learned long ago how to corner her only son.

Two days. She had been pushing him for two days straight. That alone was unusual. Normally, she escalated fast, dramatic but efficient. This time, the persistence felt deliberate, sharpened by something more than impatience. Allenzio knew why, even if he did not want to admit it. He had done this before. He had delayed, diverted, distracted her when the subject of marriage first came up. Seraphina’s name had entered their household like a soft suggestion, and he had treated it exactly that way, something light enough to brush aside. He remembered telling his mother,

“Later. I’m busy. We’ll talk about it.” And she smiled then, a dangerous smile, and said,

“Of course, Zio. Later.” Later, apparently, it had arrived at four in the morning.

His thumb slipped, and before he could stop it, a voice message began to play.

“Zio! Come to my mansion now!” His mother’s voice filled the room, sharp and urgent, stripped of any warmth. “Don’t pretend you didn’t see my messages. I know you’re awake.”

Allenzio cursed under his breath and quickly lowered the volume, as if the walls might report him. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, phone dangling loosely in his hand. He did not replay the message, but the tone echoed anyway. He could already imagine her pacing the marble floors, robe perfectly arranged, eyes narrowed with resolve. He closed his eyes, and without warning, Seraphina’s face surfaced in his mind. Not a fantasy, not exaggerated. Just the way she had looked the first time they met. Calm. Reserved. Her posture is careful, her voice low, polite without being submissive. She had met his gaze without fear, but also without challenge. That, more than anything, had unsettled him.

“I haven’t even dated her,” he said aloud, his voice rough from sleep. “Not once.” The idea felt absurd when spoken. He had negotiated deals that involved bloodshed with less pressure than this. And yet here he was, being pushed toward marriage with a woman he barely knew, a woman whose presence lingered quietly in his thoughts despite his efforts to keep his life neatly divided. Seraphina had seemed… different. Elegant in a way that did not ask for attention. Simple, without pretending to be fragile. He remembered the way she had folded her hands in her lap, the way she listened more than she spoke. It was not love. He knew that. But it was not indifference either, and that made things complicated.

The phone buzzed again. This time, a text.

If you do not come today, we will have a very different conversation about your father’s inheritance.

Allenzio’s jaw clenched. There it was. The familiar threat, polished and reused. He scoffed quietly, shaking his head. “You really have one weapon,” he said. He scrolled through the messages without opening them fully. Variations of the same pressure, the same reminder. His father’s name. The estate. The legacy. The unspoken rule that everything he had was conditional. He had no siblings to soften the blow, no one to share the weight. The Arghathan name rested entirely on him, and his mother never let him forget it.

He stood up abruptly, the chair scraping softly as he pushed it aside. Walking toward the bathroom, he caught his reflection in the mirror. Sharp eyes, dark and alert even at this hour. Features set in a way that suggested control rather than ease. He stared at himself for a moment, then turned on the tap, splashing cold water onto his face.

“She won’t really give it away,” he said, more to reassure himself than anything else.

“To who? A stranger?” But even as he said it, doubt crept in. His mother was not known for empty threats. If she said the inheritance would go to his future wife, she would find a way to make it happen. The irony was not lost on him. Refuse marriage, lose everything. Accept marriage, lose freedom.

He dried his face and returned to the bedroom, grabbing his phone again.

Another voice message appeared. He did not open it this time. Instead, he sat on the edge of the bed and let his head fall back, staring at the ceiling. “Engagement,” he said suddenly. The word felt heavy but manageable. A pause button. A compromise.

"That's it." He straightened, energy returning to his movements. "An engagement buys time. It’s not a wedding.”

His lips curved into a brief, humorless smile. “You want a ring? Fine. You won’t get vows.”

His phone rang. Not a message this time. A call. Mother. He answered without greeting.

“What now?” he said flatly.

“Do not speak to me like that,” she snapped immediately. “Where are you?”

“In my house,” he replied. “Where else would I be at four in the morning?”

“You should be on your way here,” she said. “We need to talk about Seraphina.”

“I know,” Allenzio said, rubbing his temples. “You’ve made that very clear.”

“Then why are you still there?” she demanded.

He paused, choosing his words carefully. “Because rushing me will not change the outcome.”

A sharp inhale on the other end. "Do not test me, Zio."

“I’m not,” he said. “I’m negotiating.”

There was silence. Then, it was colder,

“You already tried to deceive me once. Do you think I forgot?”

Allenzio closed his eyes. “I didn’t deceive you. I delayed.”

“Same thing,” she replied. “You will meet her properly. Today.”

“I’ve met her,” he said.

“You glanced at her across a table,” his mother shot back. “That is not a meeting.”

He exhaled slowly. “Fine. I’ll come.”

“And?” she pressed.

“And we’ll announce an engagement,” he said, steady. “That’s my condition.”

Another pause. Longer this time. He could almost hear her calculating.

Finally, she spoke, measured and sharp.

“You think you’re clever.”

“I know I am,” Allenzio replied.

“This does not mean you control the timeline,” she warned.

“It means I’m agreeing,” he said.

“Don’t push further.”

The line went dead.

Allenzio stared at the phone for a moment, then set it down carefully, as if it might explode. He stood again, already mentally shifting into motion. Shower. Suit. Mansion. He did not feel victorious. He felt cornered, but at least now he had chosen the shape of the corner. As he dressed, Seraphina’s image returned, clearer this time. He wondered how she would react. Whether she would be surprised, offended, or resigned.

He wondered if she knew she was being used as leverage in a family war she never asked to join.

As he fastened his watch, he spoke quietly to the room,

“I hope you’re stronger than you look.”

Not as a threat. As a warning.

By the time the clock on his phone shifted to 4:21 a.m., the room felt smaller. Not physically, but mentally, as if the walls had leaned in while he was busy managing his mother’s pressure. Allenzio stood near the edge of the bed, shirt half-buttoned, attention split between the urge to shower and the lingering irritation crawling under his skin. He picked up his phone again, ready to silence it, when it rang. Not vibrated. Rang. A foreign number. No name. His instinct sharpened instantly.

He stared at the screen for two seconds too long, then answered.

“Speak,” he said.

A low chuckle slipped through the speaker, unhurried, pleased with itself. “Hey, Allenzio. Long time.”

His shoulders stiffened. He did not ask who it was. He already knew.

“Your resistance in the eastern territory,” the voice continued, amused, “has been adorable. Truly. But useless.”

Allenzio’s fingers tightened around the phone.

“If you’re calling to hear yourself talk, you picked the wrong morning.”

“Tomorrow,” the man said calmly, ignoring him. “Tomorrow is when you disappear. Prison would be merciful, but I doubt you’ll get mercy.”

Allenzio felt his heartbeat spike, sharp and loud in his ears. His expression did not change.

“Lionel Endris doesn’t usually call ahead,” he replied. “Is this your way of asking for attention?”

The man laughed. “Still arrogant. That’s why I enjoy this. Twenty days ago, you ran like an animal with its leg caught. You think we forgot?”

“I think,” Allenzio said slowly, “you should stop talking.”

The call ended.

He stood there, the phone still pressed to his ear, listening to nothing. For a brief second, something dark flickered across his face. Then he lowered the device and threw it onto the bed with enough force that the mattress dipped. “Bastard,” he muttered. The timing was almost mocking. Mother. Engagement. And now this. He turned sharply toward the bathroom, anger pushing him forward.

“Not today,” he said aloud. “You don’t get prison today.”

"Lionel... don't mess me" he said with his hands grip the side of wash basin

The bathroom door shut behind him with a solid click. He leaned forward, both hands gripping the edge of the sink, head lowered. The powder room was spotless, dry, almost clinical. No steam, no warmth yet. His reflection stared back at him when he lifted his head. Calm eyes. Tight mouth. He looked composed in a way that came from habit, not peace. Slowly, his gaze hardened, lines forming between his brows. He twisted the faucet, water rushing loudly into the basin, and began brushing his teeth with sharp, efficient movements. The sound of running water filled the silence, drowning out the thoughts trying to crowd in. The shower followed, a steady rush, hot against his back, muscles tensing then releasing as if his body knew it needed to stay ready.

By 4:50 a.m., he was dressed and standing in the kitchen, chewing on a piece of barbecue he had cooked himself with the same precision he applied to everything else. Cooking had always been his way of staying grounded when things went wrong. He cleaned as he went. When he finished, the kitchen looked untouched, counters wiped, knives aligned, no sign of disturbance. Control mattered. Even now.

He moved through the house without hesitation, grabbed his jacket, and headed toward the garage. The door lifted smoothly, revealing the concrete floor and his car waiting patiently. He took one step forward.

Then stopped.

The air felt wrong. Heavy. His skin prickled. Beyond the garage opening, shadows shifted where they should not have. Men stood in formation near the driveway, blocking the exit. Black vehicles idled quietly, engines low. Faces he recognized immediately. Lionel Endris’s people. Too many to bluff. Too organized to outrun.

Allenzio exhaled slowly through his nose. “So you decided to be early,” he said.

One of them stepped forward, broad shoulders, eyes cold. “Morning, Allenzio. You’re coming with us.”

He did not back away. He straightened instead, adjusting his jacket with deliberate calm.

“I have somewhere to be.”

The man smirked. “Funny. So do we.”

Another figure moved closer, and then another. The exit narrowed until it no longer existed. Allenzio glanced around once, assessing distance, angles, numbers. His jaw flexed. He could fight. He would lose. He chose stillness.

“Let’s make this quick,” he said. “I don’t enjoy standing around.”

Hands grabbed his arms firmly, practiced, unyielding. He did not struggle. He did not lower his head. His gaze stayed forward as they guided him away from his own garage, into the cold morning air. One of them shoved him slightly, testing him.

“Careful,” Allenzio warned quietly. “Touch me like that again, and you’ll regret it later.”

The man laughed. “You think there is a later?”

Allenzio said nothing.

They placed him into the back of a vehicle, movements efficient, impersonal. The door shut with a dull thud, sealing him inside. Darkness wrapped around him briefly until the interior light flicked on. Another man sat opposite him, watching with open curiosity.

“You look calm,” the man said. “Most people aren’t.”

“I don’t waste energy panicking,” Allenzio replied. “It doesn’t change outcomes.”

The vehicle began to move.

As the mansion disappeared behind them, his thoughts surged forward instead of back. His mother’s messages. The engagement announcement he had planned to use as a shield. Seraphina. He pictured her reaction if she heard he had vanished before sunrise. His jaw tightened.

“This is inconvenient,” he said softly.

The man across from him leaned forward.

“For someone who built half the chaos in the east, you sound offended.”

“I am,” Allenzio said. “You interrupted my schedule.”

A sharp slap landed against his shoulder, meant to provoke. He barely reacted, only shifting his posture to remain balanced. His eyes lifted slowly to meet the attacker’s.

“That’s the last free hit you get,” he said evenly. “Enjoy it.”

The man scoffed but leaned back.

Time blurred as they drove. When they stopped, Allenzio was pulled out and guided through unfamiliar corridors, concrete underfoot, the smell of metal and damp air clinging to the walls. Voices echoed. Doors opened and closed. Finally, they pushed him into a room and forced him down onto a chair. His wrists were restrained behind him, pressure biting into skin. He rolled his shoulders slightly, testing the limits, then went still again.

A door opened.

Lionel Endris entered without haste, dressed neatly, smile thin and satisfied. “Allenzio,” he greeted. “You’re earlier than expected.”

“You called,” Allenzio replied. “I assumed you wanted to see me.”

Lionel chuckled and took a seat opposite him.

“You always had a mouth on you.”

“And you always talked too much,” Allenzio shot back.

Lionel leaned in. “This is where your story ends.”

Allenzio met his gaze without flinching.

“Stories don’t end that easily,” he said. “They just get complicated.”

Lionel’s smile faded slightly.

Somewhere, far away, the sun began to rise.

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