MEDICAL CRUSH

Graham Marcus sat rigidly on the edge of the leather sofa, his dark eyes darting around the opulent estate of the Aldridge family. Crystal chandeliers dripped light across marbled floors, and gilded frames of ancestors long gone stared down from the walls. But Graham was distracted-his mind spiraled in a quiet thrill of anticipation.

"I don't even know what my fiancée looks like," he thought, watching servants bustle about. "Growing up in the mountains, all I saw were women in dusty old magazines Master kept hidden in his trunk. But now? Real women. Real beauty. And this Aldridge girl-she's supposed to be mine. My future wife. So, technically, I can touch her, right?"

Moments later, a man and a young woman descended the grand staircase.

The man was short and stout, perhaps in his fifties, with thinning hair and calculating eyes. The girl, tall and striking, had the sharp angles and icy elegance of a sculpture. She carried herself with the aloof grace of someone accustomed to admiration-and not shy about expecting it.

Graham's gaze swept over her, admiration flickering in his eyes. "Damn," he thought. "If this is who my father arranged for me, he had excellent taste. No wonder Master always said my father was a visionary. From nothing to king of Crestwood-guess he had a sharp eye for everything."

Wesley Aldridge approached with exaggerated warmth. "You must be Graham Marcus! You look just like your father-God rest his soul. I knew it was you the moment I saw you."

He launched into a rehearsed tale, his voice full of false nostalgia. "Such a tragedy. Your mother's accident. Your father's collapse after the business failed. You were barely four. I meant to take you in myself, but they said some old doctor whisked you away to the mountains. It's been what-sixteen years? And now you're back. It's fate."

Despite sensing the man's insincerity, Graham bowed politely. "Master raised me well. We've been secluded for years, but he always hoped I'd return and fulfill my father's last wish. I appreciate your concern, Uncle Wesley."

Wesley chuckled and gestured to the girl. "This is my daughter, Claire. Claire, why don't you greet your cousin?"

Claire offered a half-hearted glance. "Hey."

Graham smiled politely. "You're even more beautiful than I imagined."

Claire's lips curled ever so slightly in disdain.

Wesley quickly jumped in. "Graham, now that you're back, we'll take care of you. After dinner, I'll get you started at my company. We'll find you something manageable."

The tone was generous, but the words felt like a leash.

Still, Graham held firm. "Uncle Wesley, my master sent me here not for a job, but to honor a promise-to marry Claire."

An uncomfortable silence followed. Wesley's smile faltered.

"Yes, well... that was arranged a long time ago. People change. Girls these days aren't fond of arranged marriages. I assumed... perhaps we should rethink things."

Graham's voice dropped a degree. "Are you saying you want to annul the engagement?"

Wesley hesitated, then nodded. "Plenty of lovely girls in Crestwood, son. I'd be happy to introduce you. Claire's already being courted by some very promising young men from established families. This is for your own good."