MARRY MY SON
905 Words
CHAPTER 5: MARRY MY SON
SOPHIE ANDERSON:
I was organizing decorations in my tiny event planning shop when my phone rang. I glanced at the screen with a frown on my face. The number wasn't familiar but I still had to take that call.
"Hello?" I answered cautiously.
"Sophie Anderson?"
I paused. "Yes?"
"This is Richard Sinclair."
I paused even longer.
Wait. Sinclair? That name sounded familiar.
"The man you saved?" he added, when I didn't respond immediately.
I had almost forgotten about the incident.
"Oh!" I straightened. "Mr. Sinclair, how are you feeling?"
"Alive, thanks to you," he said gruffly. "I need to see you. Meet me at The Plaza Hotel for lunch."
The Plaza? I’d never even stepped foot inside that luxury fortress.
“Today?’
“Yes, today. Are you busy?”
“Not really..”
“Then let's make it a date.”
"Uh… okay?" I muttered.
Before I could say more, he hung up.
—
I took a good look at my outfit and frowned. I wore a navy blouse and black slacks. I wondered if this outfit was good enough to go for lunch in the prestigious The Plaza Hotel.
I didn't have enough gass in my car to go back home and change.
Sigh.
12:30 pm, I left my shop and headed to The Plaza Hotel. It was a fifteen minutes drive so I was there before 1: pm.
The Plaza was filled with Manhattan’s elite, women in designer dresses, and men in tailored suits. Meanwhile, I had opted for my best business casual outfit—a navy blouse and black slacks.
When I arrived at the restaurant, a waiter led me to a private dining area where Richard Sinclair sat, sipping a glass of whiskey.
"Miss Anderson," he greeted, gesturing for me to sit.
"You really didn’t have to invite me here," I said, settling into the plush chair.
"Nonsense." He studied me for a moment and waved the waiter over. “Order whatever you want.”
I went through the menu and ordered something simple. The waiter returned with my order in no time.
I had light breakfast so I dug into my meal immediately.
Mr. Sinclair watched me with keen interest then suddenly slide an envelope across the table. "This is for you."
I frowned. "What is it?"
"A reward."
I opened it and almost choked. It was a check—for $50,000.
"Mr. Sinclair, I can’t accept this," I said, pushing it back.
He raised an eyebrow. "You saved my life. Take it."
I shook my head. "I didn’t help you for money."
For a moment, Richard just stared at me, then, to my surprise, he chuckled.
"You’re an interesting woman, Miss Anderson."
I smiled nervously. "I try."
He leaned forward. "If you won’t take my money, then I have a better offer."
Uh-oh.
"I want you to marry my son."
My mouth dropped open. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," he said, completely serious.
I laughed awkwardly. "That’s… that’s insane. Why would I marry your son?"
"Because I like you and you are exactly what I need in a daughter-in-law," he stated matter-of-factly.
I shook my head. "That’s crazy."
Richard’s sharp eyes pinned me down. "You’re struggling, aren’t you? You run a small business that barely makes ends meet. Your sister’s tuition is due. Your landlord is probably breathing down your neck."
I stiffened. How did he—
"Marry my son, and you’ll never have to worry about money again," he continued. "You’ll live comfortably. Your sister’s tuition will be paid. You’ll have security."
I stared at him, my mind spinning. This was ridiculous. No one just offers marriage like this.
But… he wasn’t wrong.
Still, I had my pride. "I appreciate the offer, Mr. Sinclair, but I don’t even know your son."
Richard smirked. "You’ll meet him soon enough."
“Mr. Sinclair, please, I don't think I can ….”
“Think about my offer, Sophie,” he said as he took my hands, staring into my eyes. “I owe my life to you now. So I won't do anything that would jeopardise your future.”
I heaved a sigh. “I'll think about it, Mr. Sinclair.”
He nodded. “That's okay. I will keep in touch.”
We chatted for another fifteen minutes before I went back to the shop.
---
That same evening, I got home and found my landlord waiting.
“Mr. Woods,” I exclaimed as I hurried to him.
"You have until tomorrow to pay, or you’re out," Mr. Woods, my grumpy old landlord, said, crossing his arms.
"Please, just give me a little more time," I pleaded.
"No more time," he snapped. "You’re three weeks behind!"
I swallowed hard. I had nothing. No savings. No backup plan.
That night, as I sat in my tiny apartment, staring at the eviction notice, Richard Sinclair’s words echoed in my mind.
"Marry my son, and you’ll never have to worry about money."
I hated it. I hated that I was even considering it. What if his son doesn't want me?
With shaking hands, I grabbed my phone and dialed.
Richard answered on the first ring. "Miss Anderson?"
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
"Hello, Mr Sinclair. I've considered your offer. I’ll do it."
“Good girl! I will send my driver to pick you at seven tomorrow.”
“Okay,” I responded and hung up.
- Writer
