If what Cynthia Rivera said was true, then his grandfather, his parents, and the rest of the family had gone ahead and arranged his marriage right at home without

him.

If he remembered correctly, the truth about him faking a relationship with Emily Blair hadn't yet come out on his grandfather's side.

Tristan Davis had always looked forward to his parents' visits from abroad, but not if they were going to pull something like this behind his back.

He dialed his grandfather's number, doing his best to keep his temper in check. "Grandpa."

"Ah, Tristan!" Steven Davis answered, his voice old but strong, warmth laced in every syllable. “What's got you thinking of your old granddad today?"

Tristan took a steadying breath. "Are Mom and Dad coming back to the States?"

"You heard already?" Steven chuckled. "Yes, they'll be home tomorrow. I know you're busy, but try to make time to come by in the next few days. There's something we need to talk about as a family."

Tristan inhaled sharply, the tension building in his chest. Lowering his voice, he pressed, "What's so important?"

Steven cleared his throat. "We'll discuss it when you come home. There's no rush right now."

Tristan's expression darkened. "If we wait until I get home, won't it be too late?"

His tone was clipped, anger simmering beneath the surface—a rare thing when he spoke to his elders.

There was a pause on the other end. "So, you know?"

Tristan let out a heavy sigh. "Yes."

Steven's voice was calm, almost weary, but patient. "Cynthia told you, didn't she?"

"Does it matter who told me?" Tristan shot back.

Steven fell quiet.

Tristan squeezed his phone, trying to keep his frustration under control. He asked, voice low, "Grandpa, are you really planning to arrange a marriage for me and Cynthia Rivera?"

Steven replied, "You're both at the right age. It's time to think about settling down. Our families know each other well, Cynthia grew up before my eyes, and she's always been a good match for you. You two practically grew up together. Just the other day, I talked it over with the Riveras, and we all agreed—it's time.”

"But none of you ever asked what I wanted."

Tristan shut his eyes, struggling to rein in the agitation burning in his chest. Still, because it was his grandfather, he kept his tone from crossing a line.

His voice was steady, but heavy. "Why didn't you talk to me about this? Why do you get to call the shots on my life without even telling me? What if I'd just come home like you asked, would you have expected me to agree to marry Cynthia, just like that?"

Steven sounded unmoved, not the least bit swayed by Tristan's protest. "What do you mean, ‘just like that'? Cynthia is the best possible person you could marry. Our families have talked about this for years. Childhood sweethearts—people would kill for a match like that."

"But I don't want it," Tristan said, repeating himself calmly. "I've told you before, Grandpa. Cynthia is just Cynthia to me. Nothing more."

The line fell silent again.

"Grandpa, if no one else knows, surely you do," Tristan pressed. "I told you before— Emily Blair and I are dating. Did you forget? How am I supposed to explain this to my girlfriend?"

Steven seemed to let out a small laugh. “Tristan, you don't need to lie to me." "What am I lying about?"

A sense of unease crept through Tristan.

Steven continued, "Someone told me the truth. You and Emily Blair aren't really dating. She's just someone you brought in to keep me off your back, isn't she?”

Tristan's frown deepened. “That's not true. She is my girlfriend. Who told you otherwise?"

Steven replied, "No more lies, Tristan. The person who told me is trustworthy-they wouldn't get something like this wrong. You don't need to keep dodging the truth. I might be old, my eyes might not be what they used to, but I can still see straight. The one time I met Emily Blair, I could tell you two weren't what you claimed to be."