"James Brown, marry me!"
In front of the Brown family villa, beside a sleek, understated Maybach, a striking scene unfolded. Dressed in a custom black suit, James Brown leaned back in the rear seat, looking lethargic yet regal. His narrow, cold eyes fixed indifferently on the young woman blocking the car, Alice Walton.
Alice wore clothes stitched together from colorful patches, a far cry from the elegant attire expected at the Brown family villa. Her hair was tied back in a simple ponytail, and she clutched a worn, gray crossbody bag. With her small, oval face, almond eyes, wild eyebrows, and cute, cherry-shaped lips beneath an uptilted nose, she radiated a rebellious spirit.
Just moments ago, James had arrived at the Brown family villa and was ready to step out of the car. But, seemingly out of nowhere, Alice appeared, blocking his path. Her first words were bold and unexpected: "James Brown, marry me."
Ha! James had encountered plenty of women throwing themselves at him, but this was the first time one had proposed outright.
Stepping out of the car, he buttoned his suit with one hand. His well defined wrists seemed to glow under the sunlight. Alice squinted as she looked up at him, catching her first full glimpse of the man in front of her.
James exuded a unique nobility. His features were devastatingly handsome, his eyes intense, and his aura aloof. He was not only her fiancé but the current patriarch of the powerful Brown family, the elite of the capital, and a renowned "old fox" in the business world. Ruthless, decisive, cunning, and intelligent, he was a hard man to handle.
Taking a deep breath, Alice stepped forward, determined to block his way again. "James, I am your fiancée. Our marriage was set when we were ten. Clara Walton, my grandmother, always told me I was meant to marry you."
Fiancée? James nearly laughed aloud in disbelief. He had seen his share of shameless people, but never one this audacious. A woman announcing they were engaged, inventing a marriage contract out of thin air it was almost comical.
Running out of patience, he dismissed her with a wave: "Someone, kick her out!"
As his command fell, two black-clad bodyguards, Duke and Ray, sprang into action. James sneered, walking toward the villa, when suddenly, two agonizing screams split the air.
"Ah!"
"Ahem!"
Boom! Duke and Ray crashed heavily into the nearby flower bed, groaning in pain.
James halted and spun around. Alice calmly dusted off her sleeves, a hint of wildness flashing in her slightly raised eyes.
"Those two novices were barely enough to warm me up," she remarked.
James’s pupils contracted. "Who on earth are you?!"
In less than ten seconds, she had taken down both of his professional bodyguards. Her strength was terrifying.
Alice smirked as she stepped closer. "Allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Alice Walton, the only heir to the Harrison legacy. I can tell fortunes, read faces, perform divination, and even catch ghosts. I am proficient in them all."
She crossed her arms, a confident gleam in her eye. "At the age of twelve, you were engaged to me. You even paid respects to my ancestors in the metaphysical tradition, making you my husband-to-be. Now the time has come, and it’s time for us to get married."
James felt his jaw tighten. Metaphysical tradition? Fortune-telling and ghost-catching? Where did this swindler come from?
With a stony expression, he ignored her and turned to head into the villa. Just then, an elderly man with white hair, leaning on a cane, emerged, his face alight with excitement.
"Oh my! Alice, you’ve finally come! Come, come inside!" called Winston Brown.
James froze mid-step. "Grandfather?"
Winston, usually so gruff, tapped his cane impatiently. "What are you waiting for? Invite your fiancée inside!"
James: ????
Fifteen minutes later, James sat in stunned silence as he processed the story. Apparently, Alice really was his betrothed.
Years ago, when he was twelve, he had been chronically ill, battling relentless fevers. One day, he had fallen into a dangerous coma. Desperate, the family sought the guidance of a guru, who led them to the Metaphysical traditionalist.
The one who saved him back then was Betty, Alice's grandmother. Betty agreed to help on one condition: that James would one day marry her granddaughter. The Brown family, without hesitation, agreed. Miraculously, his illness had vanished the night of their engagement ceremony. For over a decade, his health had been perfect.
James had no memory of this at all.
Now, James sat on the sofa, a headache pounding as he stared at the marriage contract Alice had handed him.
"The union of two families, an alliance on one platform. A lasting union filled with love, equally matched. Metaphysical tradition bears witness, heaven and earth as our judge. If this oath is violated, may divine punishment befall! Failure to fulfill this commitment leads to instant death! Contract bearers: Alice Walton and James Brown."
The contract bore two small fingerprints alongside their names. James was silent, as if struck by lightning.
Dropping dead instantly… Was this really a marriage contract? It seemed more like a curse! Not only was he unable to nullify the marriage, but he now had an unexpected fiancée.
Angrily, he threw the marriage contract at Alice and stormed out of the room.
“You rascal, stop right there!” Winston cursed. Seeing James had no intention of stopping, he looked awkwardly at Alice.
“Alice, give him some time to accept it. You stay here at Grandpa’s house, and I’ll handle the rest.”
Alice agreed and settled into the room next to James's.
The room was spacious and warmly decorated. She began unpacking her things, which she stored in a portable space charm for convenience.
The first item she brought out was her grandmother Clara's portrait, which she hung prominently in the room. As the canvas unrolled, Clara’s kind, elderly figure appeared, seemingly rising from the portrait itself.
She glanced around, eyes twinkling with approval. “Wow! This place is not bad at all!”
"What do you think, Alice? Isn’t the husband Betty chose for you impressive?"
Alice smiled and nodded, offering three incense sticks to Clara, who floated over eagerly to take in the fragrance, her face lighting up in satisfaction.
"He's handsome, yes," Alice admitted, "but too aloof. And he clearly doesn’t want to acknowledge this marriage."
“Blind, that’s all he is!” Clara scoffed, looking indignant. “Alice, you're beautiful, skilled, and the most unique successor of our sect. Spend a little time with him, and he'll fall for you in no time!”
Alice rolled her eyes, amused, as she set out a small cake offering for Clara. The old lady’s face softened, and she settled in to enjoy the treat.
Just then, a frantic knock came at the door.
“Open up! You little con artist! Open this door right now!”
