Breaking Free from Family Ties

Chapter 1

Arthur Hawke leaned against the kitchen counter, the cold tile biting into his skin as he stared blankly at the coffee pot. The war had left him with more than just physical scars; it was the chaos in his mind that screamed the loudest. Even after months of therapy, his emotions unraveled at a moment's notice—a hair-trigger that he could neither explain nor control.

"Isabella!" he barked, his voice cutting through the morning silence like a knife, drawing the attention of his wife, who was lounging on the sofa in the adjoining living room. She looked up, feigning innocence, her dark hair framing her face in a messy bun.

“I didn’t sign up for this,” Isabella Fletcher replied, raising an eyebrow as she rolled her eyes. “I’m just here to check on you.”

She always said the right things, but today, her optimism felt like a smack in the face. Arthur sighed, already regretting the pull of the morning’s cortisol rush, but the urge to lash out was hard to shake off.

“Your husband may have made progress, but he’s still got his issues,” the therapist had said last week, her voice smooth and clinical. “Impulsivity, irritability, need for control. Basically, he needs to be coddled.”

“Got it!” Isabella had replied, her expression somewhere between sarcastic and resigned.

Now, as the sun filtered through the kitchen window, it cast a golden hue over the clutter—the remnants of last night's take-out still lounging on the counter, dishes jutting out of the sink in a half-hearted attempt at chaos. Arthur focused on the squat bottle of whiskey that had become all too familiar, wishing it would wash away the noise in his head.

“Arthur,” Isabella called gently, as if sensing the storm brewing just beneath the surface, “it’s just me. You don’t have to put on a show.”

“I’m not putting on a show! I just…” He ran a hand through his hair, frustration surging like a tidal wave. “I just can’t handle feeling like this! Why does everything bother me so much?”

Isabella shifted on the couch, her brows furrowing as she observed him. “Why don’t you talk to me? We can figure this out together, alright?”

“I don’t want to talk.” His voice cracked slightly, betraying the facade of strength he tried to maintain.

Isabella stood, crossing the distance between them with an effortless grace. “Look, I get it; sometimes, it feels like nothing makes sense after everything you’ve been through. But pushing me away isn’t the answer.”

He met her gaze, the fire in his chest flickering. It was the truth. He knew it deep down but grappling with it felt like trying to catch smoke with his bare hands.

“Maybe you just want a partner to keep you in check,” she said softly, stepping closer. “Control is comforting when everything else feels chaotic.”

Arthur took a deep breath, feeling the intensity of her insight wash over him. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re stuck with a ticking time bomb,” he finally admitted, his voice low.

“Then let’s defuse it together,” she urged, reaching out to grasp his hand. “You don’t have to fight this alone, Arthur.”

He looked at her, truly looked, for the first time in a while, and felt something shift within. The weight didn't dissolve, but maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to carry it by himself.

“Alright, I’ll try,” he murmured, the words tasting foreign on his tongue, but if Isabella believed it, there was a flicker of hope—perhaps they could begin to navigate a world where the past didn’t dictate every moment of the present.

As the sun rose higher, casting light into the shadows of their lives, Arthur clung to that hope, however fragile it was, and for the first time in a long while, he took a step forward.

Chapter 2

Greenmount Ridge was a quiet enclave of upscale homes on the outskirts of Kingsport, where the streets were lined with every shade of green you could imagine. The houses, built decades ago, stood strong, their charm only slightly dulled by time. It wasn’t far from the city center, and the area was well-known for its affluent residents.

The Hawke family was among the earliest settlers here.

Their home was a pristine three-story white colonial, complete with elegant sloping roofs and tidy landscaping—flowers, trees, and carefully curated paths that wound around a shimmering fountain. The whole scene felt supremely upper-class, save for a lone kite bobbing in the breeze—a relic of childhood innocence that reminded Eleanor Hawke of simpler times.

Eleanor leaned against the balcony railing, scanning the yard below where her eldest son played with the neighbor's kids. Her brow was furrowed, a cloud of worry eclipsing her usually warm demeanor.

“Mom, what’s going on?” Richard, her younger son, was halfway down the stairs when he noticed her distress. He reluctantly broke his gaze from an action movie he’d been immersed in, making his way over to her.

“It’s your brother,” she sighed before retreating into the Great Hall.

Richard followed, casting a wary glance back at his brother, Arthur, who was still trying to entertain the little ones.

“What’s with the long face?” Edward Hawke, Eleanor's husband, looked up from his half-read newspaper as Eleanor descended the stairs, her mood unmistakably dark.

“You really don’t care, do you?” She shot her husband an incredulous look.

“Did someone stir the pot again?” Edward asked, his brow knitting in concern.

“It’s Arthur Hawke…” Eleanor sank onto the plush sofa beside him, her hands wringing together.

“Arthur? What's wrong with him?” Edward replied, surprised. “He seems fine.”

“You’re too wrapped up in work to notice,” Eleanor snapped. “Have you even thought about how he’s doing?”

“I worry, Eleanor. When Arthur was sick, it was hell for me too. But the psychologist said he’s all clear now, right?” Edward replied, frowning.

“You can’t forget what Oliver Winters advised us,” she interjected. “He said that while Arthur may be technically healthy, he still has a lot of unresolved issues—like his anger, the impulsiveness…”

“Come on, Eleanor. The kid was a soldier, a damn good one at that! He’s got a bit of an attitude—it’s normal,” Edward scoffed.

“I don’t want to argue, but I remember Oliver saying the best way to help him is family support. More love, less judgment.” Eleanor felt her shoulders tense.

“Then what are you so worried about? We’re living our lives, right?” Edward shrugged.

“Do you really not see it? Oliver meant for Arthur to get married, start a family of his own, to stabilize a bit.”

“So, you’ve been setting Arthur up on these blind dates.” Edward raised an eyebrow.

“Exactly.”

“And how’s that been working out?” Edward probed.

Eleanor winced. “Not great.”

“Not great? No kidding! I’ve heard about it—so-called eligible matches just taking one look and saying no. Or worse, asking about Richard instead when they lay eyes on Arthur,” Edward exploded. “This is ridiculous! You’re risking their relationship!”

“It’s not ridiculous! I’m just trying to help,” Eleanor shot back defensively.

“Elizabeth Harrison, for instance. You know these families aren’t going to ignore Arthur’s past,” Edward explained patiently. “We searched high and low for therapists! The whole community knows about the PTSD. There’s no use forcing that stigma on him. If it’s a marital arrangement you want, you should broaden your horizons.”

“What’s wrong with looking for suitable matches?” Eleanor retorted. “So what if my son is a war hero? He deserves the best!”

“I get you’re worried about the future, especially when Richard gets married. But you’ve got to face reality,” Edward countered, trying to keep calm.

Richard stood at the top of the staircase, absorbing the tense atmosphere. He understood. His brother had served in the military, while he’d jumped straight into managing Hawke’s Guild when Arthur's injury sidelined him. Arthur had undergone two years of therapy after returning from deployment, and Richard now held the reins of the family business.

Here was their father’s legacy—a legacy so often discussed in the boardrooms. And yet his own brother struggled just to find a partner.

“Mom, Dad.” Richard’s voice broke through the flutter of familial anxiety.

“Richard,” Edward greeted him, nodding.

“Mom, all this pushing for blind dates—does Arthur even want to get married?” Richard asked, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his tone.

“Arthur doesn’t oppose it. He said he wants to give William Harper a real family presence,” Eleanor responded, a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

“Then… what if we consider a family merger?” Richard suddenly suggested.

“A merger?” Both parents blinked at him in unison, puzzled.

“There are some businesses looking to team up with Hawke’s Guild lately. A strategic alliance could be beneficial for everyone involved,” Richard said, his mind whirling with possibilities.

Eleanor’s brows knitted in thought, while Edward studied his son, unsure of what to say.

A week later.

Outside Regent’s Inn.

Isabella Fletcher stood under the awning, keeping watch for what felt like an eternity. Finally, her heart raced as she spotted William Harper’s family emerging from a luxury vehicle. She followed them, determined to seize her chance.

Chapter 3

William's family had been hiding for weeks. Isabella Fletcher had tried to visit their home multiple times, but the security guard refused her entry, insisting that the Fletchers were not home. Her calls went unanswered, making her feel like she’d been ghosted. Even her attempts to locate them at the office ended in frustration; the gates stood firmly closed, leaving her in a sinking pit of despair.

Today, though, Isabella was determined to try again. She had to convince William to agree to her request; her brother was waiting for her at the hospital, and time was ticking away.

As she hurried down the corridor, Isabella spotted the Fletcher family just as they were about to step into the elevator. Rushing forward, she inadvertently knocked over a small boy’s toy gun that lay sprawled across the floor.

“Oh, I’m sorry, little dude, I didn’t mean to,” she said, quickly stooping to pick it up. The boy didn’t cry, just stared at the toy with wide eyes, and she felt a flicker of relief wash over her.

The boy finally looked up, his expression slightly peculiar, but Isabella had no time to ponder it; she turned to ask, “Are you okay? Where’s your mom, Oliver?”

“William!” a rough voice suddenly barked from behind her, and the boy dashed away, tossing the toy aside.

Isabella turned just in time to catch the glimpse of a tall man, presumably the child’s father. Not wanting to draw attention, she swiftly pivoted back to the elevator. After a tense wait, she noted the elevator had stopped at both the twentieth and twenty-sixth floors.

“Should I head to the twentieth or the twenty-sixth floor?” Isabella rifled through the hotel directory. The twentieth had a restaurant while the twenty-sixth housed meeting rooms. “I’ll try the twentieth first, then swing by the twenty-sixth,” she decided, stepping into the elevator.

Down in the lobby, Arthur Hawke crouched to meet William’s gaze, concern pinching his brow. “What happened just now?”

With a potted plant obstructing his view, he couldn’t get a clear picture of what had transpired, but he’d caught a glimpse of an adult talking to William. Given the circumstances, he felt a ripple of anxiety.

William blinked his big eyes and shook his head softly.

“As long as you’re not hurt, that’s all that matters. Just don’t wander off too far next time,” Arthur said, the protective instinct swelling within him as memories of the lively kid William used to be flooded back, stirring up an unshakable irritation.

“Don’t you like ice cream? Let’s go grab one,” he suggested, lifting William into his arms.

“Arthur, kids can’t have too much cold stuff, and—well, we’re running late for our meeting with the Fletchers,” Richard Hawke remarked, standing up.

“You guys were supposed to discuss the contract first, weren’t you? I’ll meet you upstairs after I take William for some ice cream,” Arthur replied, resolute.

“Brother…” Richard eyed his sibling and the child in his grasp. “Are you really going to let William choose?”

“Of course…” Arthur nodded.

“Bro, this is kind of a big deal…”

“Who I marry isn’t significant, especially since Mother’s already filled in on the situation. As long as the other party doesn’t mind, that’s all that counts,” Arthur answered, a two-inch scar crinkling at the edge of his eye turning his smile somewhat fearsome. “William’s opinion is what matters most to me.”

Richard felt that things shouldn’t be this way but didn’t know how to change course. He could only hope that Miss Fletcher was indeed the well-bred, gentle lady the rumors claimed her to be.

“Fine, I’ll head up first. You take your time with William and come up after,” he instructed, concern etched in his voice. “Room 2601.”

“Got it,” Arthur said, kissing the top of William's head as he carried him away toward the ice cream stand.

In room 2601, the two families made small talk for a while. Eleanor Hawke subtly sized up Grace Fletcher, feeling a sense of satisfaction. The girl was lovely and had a good vibe—she'd even heard she was a pianist.

“Knock, knock,” came a sound at the door, and Richard entered. “Sorry, I’m late.”

“It’s all good! We’re just getting started,” Thomas Fletcher laughed heartily.

Grace, dressed impeccably for the occasion, felt her cheeks heat up seeing such a handsome young man. The prospect of a marriage alliance with the Hawkes suddenly felt more like a fairy tale.

Eleanor’s irritation flared as she noticed Richard’s handsome face glowing with attention. Surely, he wouldn’t show up today of all days?

“Where’s Arthur?” Eleanor inquired pointedly.

“He got sidetracked. He’ll be here soon,” Richard replied.

“No rush, no rush,” Thomas said with a chuckle.

Grace was taken aback to realize her suitor was actually the second son, and now, as she turned her head away slightly, she wondered if the firstborn was just as attractive.

“Hey, he’s looking pretty good,” her little brother Samuel whispered conspiratorially in her ear.

Grace shot him an annoyed look.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Fletcher was chatting Eleanor up, singing praises about how blessed she was with two sons, each strikingly handsome.

Eleanor simply internally rolled her eyes, knowing not all her sons were equally appealing as they were being portrayed. As for Grace, she noticed that as soon as she learned Richard wasn’t her betrothed, her expression softened.

Just as their conversation got spirited, a knock at the door interrupted the moment.

“Looks like Arthur’s finally here,” Eleanor stated.

Everyone turned toward the door as Richard stood to open it, revealing a striking young woman in a white dress. He froze in place.

Isabella had scoured the restaurant for her uncle's family without luck, finally hopping onto the elevator to the twenty-sixth floor. The moment she knocked on the first room’s door, a sharply dressed man appeared. “Sorry, is Thomas Fletcher in here?”

“Who’s asking?” Thomas stepped closer, and as soon as he locked eyes with Isabella, his expression darkened.

“William!” Isabella’s face lit up as she stepped past Richard, bursting into the room.

“What are you doing here?” Thomas struggled to keep his composure, his surprise palpable.

“William, I can’t believe you’re here,” Isabella played innocent, her tone light. “I tried calling, but you didn’t answer. They said you were out for work. I was just downstairs grabbing food with a friend when I saw you. I thought it would be nice to check in, and here we are—you, Margarett, and my cousins.”

“Who’s this?” Eleanor asked, noticing the sudden tension filling the air.

“Oh, that’s my brother’s daughter,” Thomas explained, a hint of urgency in his voice as he tried to usher Isabella back out. “William has important business to attend to. We can catch up later.”

“But, William…” Isabella protested, trying to push back, but the strength of an adult man was overwhelming.

At that moment, Arthur appeared, cradling William in his arms, a dangerous smile curling on his lips. “What’s going on here?”

“Not what you think…” Thomas quickly caught on and halted his attempts to shove Isabella away.

“Then don’t just stand there,” Arthur stated coolly.

“Yes,” Thomas replied, feeling an unsettling tension emanating from Arthur’s presence.

Recognizing that she was probably going to stay, Isabella turned to Arthur and smiled gratefully before stepping inside.

Arthur, noting the petite girl’s fortitude—unfazed by his intimidating demeanor—raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the unexpected twist in the evening’s plans.

Chapter 4

Isabella Fletcher wasn’t looking to disrupt anything; she just wanted another chance to talk to William Harper. So, when she stepped into the Hawke residence, she quickly found a quiet corner and settled in.

Moments later, Arthur Hawke strode in, holding his son Fly. He cast a fleeting glance at the Fletcher family before turning his attention to his mother, Eleanor Hawke, nodding slightly as a greeting. He then took a seat beside her.

“This is my eldest son, Arthur Hawke. Arthur, this is Thomas Fletcher and his family from Fletcher's Provisions,” Eleanor introduced.

“Hello,” Arthur said, his voice flat, barely masking his disinterest.

William Fletcher sensed the chill in the air and forced a laugh to ease the tension. While Arthur’s entrance stirred little curiosity in him, the entire Fletcher family couldn’t take their eyes off their guest.

Thomas Fletcher couldn’t help but think Arthur was a decent young man, even if he didn’t possess the suave charm of his brother Richard. Sure, a scar marked the corner of his eye, giving him a slightly menacing look, but then again, what family didn’t have its share of hot-headed youth?

Samuel Fletcher felt a twinge of envy. Arthur’s robust frame exuded masculinity, and the muscles in his arms were an appealing sight. Now that was manly.

But Grace Fletcher was less impressed. This was not what she had envisioned. Hadn’t she thought he would carry himself with the same gentlemanly demeanor as Richard? Instead, Arthur’s casual jeans and fitted t-shirt presented him as something of a brute. Not to mention the scar and that rugged crew cut—definitely not her type.

“Arthur Hawke, right? I heard you were in the military,” Thomas ventured, trying to ignite a conversation.

“Yeah, but I was discharged two years ago due to an injury,” Arthur replied indifferently.

Injury? Grace’s curiosity piqued. She scrutinized him, recalling how he held himself when he walked in. Well, at least he didn’t seem disabled.

“Um, hope you’re okay now,” Thomas said, genuinely concerned.

“Don't worry. I’m all healed, no lasting damage,” Arthur replied with a sardonic smile.

“Oh, that’s not what I meant!” Thomas quickly backtracked, flustered. “I was just checking in.”

“Arthur,” came Eleanor’s sharp tone, immediately reprimanding her son. She turned to Thomas with a conciliatory smile. “It’s just that Arthur’s been in the army a while, so—he can be a bit rough around the edges, but he’s got a good heart.”

“Of course! Anyone who serves deserves our respect,” William Fletcher nodded, eager to smooth over any misunderstanding. He had a vested interest in maintaining a positive rapport, considering the stakes involved in this arrangement.

As the conversation flowed, Isabella Fletcher, who had been quietly observing from the back, pieced together the situation. Oh, this was an arranged meeting for her cousin. The catch? Arthur Hawke was the intended match.

However, as Arthur sensed someone watching him, he caught Isabella’s eye. Surprised, she averted her gaze, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

His eyebrow arched. At least this girl wasn’t pretending to be shy like the others.

“Arthur, this is my darling niece, Grace,” Eleanor continued, motioning toward Grace.

“Hi! I’m Grace Fletcher,” she chirped, her smile trying to mask her discomfort.

Arthur gave her a sidelong glance, unimpressed. He had seen through many a facade, and her forced smile reeked of contempt. “Interesting name,” he said flatly.

Immediately, the atmosphere shifted. The Fletcher family stiffened with surprise, while Grace’s expression teetered on the edge of tears.

“Arthur,” Eleanor admonished, irritation creeping into her voice. “Watch your tone.”

“No need to make a big deal out of it,” Arthur shrugged, interrupting. “I’ve said it before: who I marry doesn't matter as long as Fly picks his mom.”

His comment hung heavy in the air, and even the Hawke family, who had heard similar sentiments before, couldn't hide their grimaces. For the Fletchers, it was an outright bombshell.

Grace’s heart sank. Not only did this guy have a temper, but he was also a father? The realization hit her hard.

“Thomas, don’t get the wrong idea! Fly is just Arthur's deceased comrade's son—Arthur’s been raising him,” Eleanor quickly clarified.

The tension eased slightly within the Fletcher family upon hearing this.

“Even though Fly isn’t my biological son, I’ll care for him better than I would my own flesh and blood,” Arthur said, his voice forthright as he looked at the Fletcher family. “Let’s just say, if my future wife mistreats Fly, don’t expect me to have kids with her.”

Grace’s nails dug into her palms, frustration bubbling within her. She hadn’t even signed up for this!

“Uh, yeah,” William chuckled awkwardly, “our Grace loves kids! She volunteers at the orphanage during holidays.”

Chapter 5

Greenmount Ridge, Hawke Estate.

Eleanor couldn’t hide her frustration any longer. “What the hell was that about?” she shot at Arthur, boiling over with irritation.

Arthur, seemingly unfazed, shrugged. “What? I thought I made my pick.”

“Made your pick? Are you serious right now? I set you up with Grace from the Fletcher family! You couldn’t just point to some random girl,” Eleanor snapped, her voice rising.

Arthur raised an eyebrow in confusion. “She’s not some random girl.”

“Uh, yeah, she is. That girl is Thomas’s niece, which makes her part of the Fletcher clan too,” Richard chimed in, trying to mediate.

“Still counts, right? It’s all about making a good match. The daughter might be the one we’re aiming for, but a niece isn’t a far cry either,” Arthur countered.

Edward, who had been quietly processing everything, jumped in. “So you’re saying you actually found her kinda appealing?” He couldn’t help but smirk a little.

“Let’s just say she’s not hard on the eyes. Plus, William seems to like her,” Arthur mumbled, glancing toward the little boy who had been sitting quietly in the corner, his focus shifting from one adult to the next.

The tension in the room shifted momentarily as the three of them shared a glance, realizing this was a first—William, that little dynamo of a kid, not outright rejecting someone. They all knew the kid had a knack for being picky, so this was newsworthy.

Meanwhile, across the room, Eleanor was still simmering. “You seriously need to get your head on right. We’re talking about your future here!”

Arthur waved her off. “Relax, Mom. It’s not like I’m signing a marriage contract on the spot.”

“Is this a joke to you?” Eleanor frowned, crossing her arms. “We put so much thought into this. You can’t just—”

“Seems like I picked a winner from your own setup,” Arthur cut her off, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards.

Eleanor shook her head as if to dislodge this stubborn son of hers. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to work. You’re supposed to be choosing someone compatible, not just going with whoever William doesn’t flee from.”

Arthur rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the smirk from spreading across his face. “And what if I like her? Haven’t you ever thought about that?”

Eleanor blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, do you actually like her?”

“Maybe,” Arthur said, nonchalantly leaning against the wall as if contemplating the meaning of life. “Evaluate my options, Mom. It’s all part of growing up.”

Richard and Edward exchanged a glance, bemused by the sudden twist of events. Maybe there was more to this than they realized.

Back in the hallway, outside the room, another drama was brewing. Isabella’s mother shot her a questioning glare. “What was that all about? Why do I feel like this was a huge misunderstanding?”

“It’s not my fault if Arthur got confused about who he was supposed to be interested in,” Isabella protested, trying her best to sound innocent despite the brewing storm.

Eleanor maneuvered around Isabella’s mother and attempted damage control. “No, no. This is a simple misunderstanding. Arthur probably thinks Isabella was the one I wanted him to meet.”

Isabella’s mother pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation. “What now? This was supposed to be a straightforward meeting.”

Eleanor raised her hands in surrender. “Trust me—I’ll sort it out. It’s just—we’ll have to regroup and find someone else for Arthur to consider.”

Thomas, who had been losing his patience watching the chaos unfold, finally spoke up. “Let’s just call it a day. We’ll discuss business when things settle, right?”

“Fine by me,” Ben said, standing up. “We’ll take this offline then.”

As everyone began shuffling about, Grace couldn’t help but grumble under her breath. “What was the point of all that? If I’m just a second choice, I’m not interested.”

Samuel, always ready to back his sister, couldn’t keep quiet either. “Yeah, seriously. If he was that keen, he wouldn’t have shot this whole thing down in the first place.”

Eleanor focused her attention back on her family. “This isn’t just about you two. We’re trying to secure a connection here, so cool it. That means playing nice and keeping an open mind.”

Grace stared daggers at her mother. “An open mind? To be chosen as a backup for someone who wasn’t even paying attention?”

Before she could say more, Eleanor interrupted. “You’ll thank me later. You both might have to swallow your pride for something greater than yourselves.”

Isabella watched from a distance, teetering on the brink of tears. Her brother Leo was fighting for his life, and the world just kept spinning indifferently. “You’ll come through for him, right?”

“Of course, I will!” Isabella wiped away her tears, steeling herself. “Leo, I won’t let you down. We’ll find a way.”

The walls of the estate echoed with the resolve she poured into those words, a promise louder than any disagreement brewing within the family. There was no room for defeat—not when the stakes were this high.

And as mixed emotions lingered in the charged air of Greenmount Ridge, everyone knew this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

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