The Contracted Son-in-law

Chapter Seven

As Ryan and Jenna walked towards the gate, he decided to have an important discussion with her before he left.

"Jenna," he began, his voice gentle but firm, "have you ever thought about living on your own?"

She looked up, surprised. "What do you mean? I’m fine here."

"I know," he replied, stepping closer.

"But... you are smart and capable. It might be good for you to think about having your own place someday, maybe very soon, since you've gotten yourself a big job. It could give you some freedom and particularly a chance to really figure things out for yourself."

She bit her lip, considering his words. "I don’t know... it is just so comfortable here with dad and the family."

"I get it," he said, nodding.

"But comfort is not everything. Sometimes, stepping out of your comfort zone is the only way to grow."

She stared at him for a long moment, as if trying to read his intentions.

Finally, she nodded. "I will think about it."

"Good," he smiled.

"That’s all I ask, and it is for your own good."

He then exchanged goodbyes with her and stepped out into the cool night air.

The walk home was quiet; the sound of his footsteps was the only thing breaking the silence.

His visit to Lee's family replayed in his mind, especially his discussion with Jenna.

He hoped she would take his advice seriously because he was certain that it would be a deal-breaker and the mark of a turning point for her and her family if she did.

As he rounded a corner, a voice cut through the stillness. "Nice shirt."

He looked up, surprised to see a woman leaning casually against a streetlamp.

Her presence was immediately striking—tall, elegant, with an effortless grace that seemed out of place in this quiet part of town.

It was Sarah.

She lived in the same neighbourhood as Mr. Lee and was Ryder's former neighbour when he was living in the area.

Her eyes sparkled with amusement as they flicked over his shirt. "Namibian blue diamond buttons, right? It must have cost you a few million."

He froze. His hand instinctively went to his collar, brushing against the small, inconspicuous buttons.

"Uh, it is just a shirt," he mumbled, trying to downplay it.

She laughed softly. "Yes, just a shirt that only the wealthiest people in the world would own. Come on, you expect me to believe you are just some humble skewer seller?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I sell skewers. That’s all."

She had been suspicious of his identity ever since he helped her solve a difficult university-level mathematics equation. It was the exact reason he distanced himself away from her.

She raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Sure, and I am the queen of England."

"I like nice things, but that does not mean I’m rolling in money," he replied.

She tilted her head, studying him for a moment before giving a small nod.

"Fair enough. Simplicity is nice." Her gaze softened slightly.

"But it will be hard for someone who recognises you wearing something worth more than most people’s houses to consider you just a skewer seller, just like I am," she added.

He shrugged. “Everyone knows me as the guy who sells skewers. I’ve been doing it for five years, so I don’t get why you've been so convinced I am something else.”

“Alright,” she laughed.

“If that is true, you might want to work on how you come across. Especially around women.”

He arched his brows. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, Ryan. I don't need to spill out everything to you." She retorted.

"I'm not trying to impress anyone or pretend to be someone I'm not, Sarah. I just like getting what I want, and that's it," he reminded her.

She smiled. "But not every woman will find that appealing. Sometimes, you need to present yourself at the level to which you actually belong."

"Okay, I will keep that in mind," he said, to end the conversation.

He was relieved by how he handled the situation.

"That will be better," she said with a wink.

Then, without another word, she turned and started walking down the street, her figure gradually blending into the shadows.

He watched her go, a swirl of emotions tugging at him.

He was not sure what to make of the encounter. She saw right through him, and she didn't seem to buy his story.

“That was close,” he muttered, hoping he could keep his real identity hidden for as long as he needed.

He then continued his walk home, thinking about the new life that awaited him the next day.