Not it's good to see you. My compliance is much important than my physical or mental state. I wasn't hurt by it, in fact, I got used to it. I saw my grandmother give me a look.

"What he meant my dear, is it's good to see you." My grandmother tying to always be the bridge between his husband and grandchildren. Such as the ways of this family. He sat down, propped his elbows on his large desk, fingers intertwined, as if he's deep in his thoughts.

Me and my grandmother sat on the ornate love seat directly in front of his desk. My grandmother crossed her legs by her ankle like an elegant queen, her hands on her lap. I made sure my spine was straight, hands on my lap facing down, feet together.

"I know you are aware of the current situation." I nodded.

"And you're a smart man, you're probably wondering why I summoned you." I didn't answer and just waited for him to get this over with. The anticipation was just making my nerves jumpy. I braced myself for whatever it is he's asking of me because, I know for a fact this is something that I will not agree to.

"We have kept this arrangement from everyone else, and it's best to keep to keep it that way until we find your wayward twin." I could feel the acid when he said wayward twin. I mean, he should have expected that from Anastasia, she's a firecracker-keeps you on your toes, never knowing what stunt she'll pull under your nose. "I don't want some cheap tabloid news about this." He said with much disdain in his tone. I could feel exhaustion waiting for me at the edge of my mind but I steeled myself to push through with this.

"That being said, she is to be wed to the Kings." As soon as he mentioned the family name, King, my mind went on autopilot, as if a search engine pulling out all the information I know about the family. The King family was more than just wealthy-they were a dynasty built on power, influence, and blood.

Their name carried weight in every corner of high society, whispered in both fear and reverence. Old money mixed with darker dealings, their fortune cemented not just in legitimate business, but in underground empires that spanned continents.

Their estate was a fortress, their gatherings more like meetings of a ruling council than family affairs. Loyalty was their greatest currency, and betrayal was the only sin they would not forgive. The Kings didn't simply arrange marriages-they brokered alliances, sealing fates with signatures and handshakes instead of love.

To marry into the family was not a privilege but a lifelong contract, binding as any oath sworn in blood. At their head was a patriarch who ruled with an iron grip, ensuring the family remained untouchable. Sons were raised to be kings in their own right, daughters married off like chess pieces, securing power where brute force couldn't. The King name was not just a legacy-it was a warning. And once you were in, there was no way out.

That's why I ran.

I could here my sister's voice in my head as I had asked her telepathically why did she runaway. Then I remembered who was the head of their family-Andrew King. Andrew King was not just the head of the family-he was the empire itself. Every decision, every deal, every unspoken rule began and ended with him. A man of few words but immeasurable authority, his presence alone commanded obedience.

His suit was always tailored to perfection, not a thread out of place, yet his power had nothing to do with appearances. It was in the way he carried himself, the slow, deliberate way he spoke, each word weighted with consequence. His face was carved with the sharp lines of experience, his eyes a piercing steel that saw through lies before they were even spoken. He built the King empire with ruthlessness and precision, turning the family from mere crime lords into an institution.

Fear and respect followed him in equal measure, from the highest boardrooms to the darkest corners of the underworld. Andrew believed in control-of his business, his enemies, and most of all, his family. His word was law, and those who dared to defy him quickly learned there were no second chances. When he arranged a marriage, it was not out of sentiment but strategy.

Love was irrelevant. What mattered was power, alliances, and ensuring the King dynasty remained untouchable. It got me wondering how my grandfather knew Andrew King. My theory is they ran in the same circle and probably spoke mainly about power, influence and business.

"You may ask what is my relationship with the head of their family?" My eyes widened as if he just read my mind.

"Our relationship was built on mutual respect, shared ambition, and a quiet, underlying tension-we who understood power better than most but wielded it in different ways." My grandfather stood up, hands folded behind him as he took as step towards one of his shelves of books.

"I saw Andrew as a necessary evil-an ally with influence beyond high society, someone who could ensure that the our legacy remained untouchable." He looked over my grandmother who seemed very concern with my grandfather's recent interaction with the Kings.

"I disapproved of Andrew's cold, hands-on approach to control, preferring to command through reputation and calculated diplomacy rather than violence. To me, power was a game of chess; to Andrew, it was a war where only the strongest survived." I swallowed the lump on my throat.

Now what's my role in this arrangement?

"We had made a pact, I will offer him resources available to our family, while I will need a protection from his." I frowned.

"Why would we need protection, and from whom?" he shot me a look.

"From anyone who will take the opportunity to take down our legacy." I narrowed my gaze. This seemed unnecessary. I looked at my grandmother and she didn't say anything. She just placed a hand on mind and squeezed it gently. "They are aware of the situation at hand and Andrew created a team to assist locating your wayward twin."

"Isn't this a bit extreme? Anastasia being hunted down like an international criminal?" he glared at me.

"She took this upon herself." My grandfathers voice was icy and cut the thick atmosphere that formed in the room. "Now," he took a quick breath, regaining his composure.

"Let me deal with your sister, you on the other hand..." he went behind his desk, looked outside the garden like before. I didn't realize my jaw were clenched tight, hands balled into fist.

"I have given you the luxury of defiance, Alexander. I have tolerated your refusals, your desperate attempts to outrun the future set before you. But let me make one thing clear-this was never your decision to make. It never will be." He turned to face me. His green eyes were a storm contained within an emerald cage-unforgiving, piercing, and impossible to escape.

"You will go. You will live with him until I find your sister. And you will not question me this time. I have allowed you to believe you had a choice, but that illusion ends this day. You are a Kensington, and a Kensington does not run from duty. Not without consequences."

My grandfather held my gaze for a long, weighted moment, his silence colder than any threat. Then, without another word, he turned away-because the discussion wasn't over. It had never even begun.