The Out-of-Place Selection

Headlines flashed across every glowing screen in Oakview, sending shockwaves through the city's elite circles. The prestigious Ashcroft family had just made a decades-old arranged marriage contract public. The media quickly learned that Alistair Ashcroft intended to honor the pact, meaning one of his five successful sons would be forced to marry a girl raised in the deep, remote countryside. Social media platforms instantly erupted with outrage and mockery. Netizens dug up a heavily pixelated, years-old photograph of the bride-to-be—a tanned, chubby, and awkward-looking teenage girl. The consensus was unanimous: she was unworthy of standing beside any of the elite Ashcroft heirs.

Hundreds of kilometers away from that digital uproar, tires crunched harshly over a neglected dirt road. Three pristine luxury cars kicked up thick clouds of dust before braking outside a simple, weathered, self-built concrete house. The five Ashcroft brothers stepped out of the vehicles. Their tailored designer clothes and immaculate grooming clashed ridiculously against the decaying rustic backdrop.

Caspian, the youngest brother, immediately fanned his face. "Ugh, what a dump," he groaned. "It's boiling out here. How can anyone live in this filthy environment?"

Elias, the fourth brother, adjusted his cuffs and muttered, "Tell me about it. I still can't believe Dad dragged us all the way out here just to let some country bumpkin take her pick of us as a fiancé."

Deep resentment hung heavy in the stifling midday air. The only reason they agreed to make this grueling trip was Alistair’s emotional blackmail—he threatened to stop taking his life-saving high blood pressure medication if they refused his demands.

"Enough whining," Bennett, the eldest brother, snapped. He shot them a warning glare before nodding toward the battered wooden door. "Shut up. Caspian, go knock."

Grumbling under his breath, Caspian reluctantly stepped up onto the dusty porch and banged his fist against the wood. After a few agonizing minutes of silence, the heavy door slowly swung inward.

Caspian froze in shock. The complaints died instantly in his throat.

Standing in the doorway was a young woman who looked nothing like the awkward teenager from the viral photograph. She had delicate facial features and porcelain skin. Long, soft wavy hair cascaded beautifully over her shoulders. She wore nothing more than a plain white T-shirt and simple trousers, yet she carried herself with an undeniable, effortless air of high-society nobility. She blinked calmly, her clear, twinkling eyes scanning the five men gathered on her porch.

Caspian swallowed hard, stumbling over his words. "Hi, uh... are we in the right place? We're looking for Margot Sterling."

"I am Margot Sterling," she replied, her voice cool and melodious. "Wait here a moment. I'll go inside to retrieve my luggage."

As she turned her back and vanished into the house, the brothers exchanged stunned, bewildered glances.

"Damn," Gideon, the second brother, broke the silence with a smirk. He nudged Caspian’s ribs teasingly. "She definitely doesn't look like that old photo Dad showed us. Want to volunteer to be her fiancé now?"

Caspian scoffed, quickly turning his head away to hide his flustered expression. "No thanks. Being pretty doesn't change the fact that she's still just an uneducated, unpolished country girl."

"Is that right?" a cold, sharp female voice cut through the air directly behind him.

Margot had returned, her suitcase firmly in hand. She pinned Caspian with an icy stare. "You have nothing to worry about. I would never fall for an immature kid like you anyway."

Leaving Caspian red-faced and speechless, Margot walked right past the stunned group. She headed straight for the waiting lead vehicle, opened the door, and slid inside on her own.