Chapter 2

Bailey POV

"Bailey, what have you done?!" My mother' s furious whisper cut through the shocked silence. She rushed towards me, her face pale. "Are you out of your mind? Tied to him? A common worker?"

My chest tightened, but this time, the pain was different. It was a dull ache, not a sharp stab. "I' ve accepted the rules, Mother. Isn' t that what Robinson Dynamics values? Integrity? Rule-following?" My words were laced with a bitterness I no longer bothered to hide.

My mother recoiled as if I' d struck her. "This is not about rules, Bailey! This is about our family' s reputation! About your future!"

My future. The word tasted like ash in my mouth. I remembered countless dinners, countless conversations where my ideas were dismissed, my achievements minimized. Always Holt, always Chandra, always their needs, their sensibilities. My three years away, working on humanitarian tech projects, had changed me. It had given me perspective, a sense of self-worth that wasn't tied to the Robinson name. But coming back, it was like stepping into a time warp. Nothing had changed. I was still the difficult, rebellious daughter.

"My future?" I echoed, a cold laugh escaping my lips. "My future was just auctioned off, Mother. And my fiancé, the man who was supposed to stand by me, helped seal the deal." I glanced at Kurtis, who looked as if he wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

My mother wrung her hands. "But Chandra... she just got a little carried away. You know how sensitive she is. She always felt like an outsider, poor dear."

Poor dear. The words were a familiar refrain. Always an excuse for Chandra, always a dismissal for me. "Sensitive?" I scoffed. "She sabotaged my presentation. She deliberately set me up for public ridicule, and you all just let it happen. You encouraged it."

My father, who had recovered from his shock, stepped forward, his voice stern. "Bailey, that' s enough. Chandra is family. She made a mistake, perhaps, but she didn' t mean any harm."

"Didn' t mean any harm?" I felt a raw laugh bubble up. It tasted like blood. "She' s been undermining me for years, Father! Ever since she moved in, you' ve all treated her like the favored child, while I was just... the spare."

My parents exchanged a guilty glance, but neither of them met my eyes. It was the same old song and dance. Denial, deflection, and ultimately, Chandra' s unwavering victimhood.

"We' ll talk about this at home, Bailey," my father said, his voice laced with warning. "This is neither the time nor the place for this kind of outburst."

I felt a profound weariness settle over me. I was tired of fighting. Tired of trying to make them see me, to validate me. I was done.

Without another word, I turned my back on them. I walked away from the glaring lights, the whispering crowd, and my family' s indignant faces. Each step I took was deliberate, heavy, yet liberating.

As I made my way through the throng, I heard a voice call out. "Bailey! Wait!"

It was Kurtis. He hurried after me, grabbing my arm. His touch felt foreign, unwelcome.

"Bailey, please, don' t do this," he pleaded, his voice low, urgent. "You' re just upset. We can fix this. I can talk to your father, explain that this was all a misunderstanding. They' ll cancel the pairing."

I looked at his handsome, anxious face. The man I was supposed to marry. The man who had just thrown me under the bus for the sake of "rules" and "reputation."

"My 'dear sister' Chandra," he continued, a forced smile on his face. "She didn' t mean to upset you. You know how she is."

I pulled my arm away. "Your 'dear sister' ?" I repeated, the sarcasm thick in my voice. "Funny, I thought she was my cousin. And I thought I was your fiancée."

He flinched. "Bailey, don' t be dramatic. I was just trying to diffuse the situation. For us. For our future." He took a step closer, his eyes pleading. "Look, after this blows over, we can still have our dream wedding. I' ll even introduce you to some eligible bachelors-if this Dangelo person really isn' t your type." He chuckled, a nervous, forced sound.

My stomach churned. He was already offering me up for a new match, just hours after his declaration of loyalty to my family' s image. A cold, hard laugh escaped my lips. It was bitter, hollow.

"Eligible bachelors?" I finally managed, my voice trembling. "You mean the kind who won' t abandon me for a prettier face, Kurtis? Or the kind who won' t stand by silently while their fiancée is humiliated?" My gaze hardened. "Or maybe, the kind who hasn' t already moved on to my cousin?"

His face paled, his eyes darting around the crowd. He was caught.

"I saw you, Kurtis," I continued, my voice gaining strength. "And I heard them. Don' t deny it."

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. His shoulders slumped.

I didn' t wait for an answer. I turned away from him and walked directly towards Dangelo, who stood a few feet away, watching the scene unfold with an unreadable expression. The chaotic murmur of the ballroom seemed to recede, replaced by the pounding of my own heart.

My parents and Holt watched, wide-eyed, as I approached the maintenance worker. Kurtis stood frozen, his face a mask of disbelief and shame.

I stopped in front of Dangelo. He looked at me, his eyes dark, intense. There was no pity, no judgment, just a quiet, watchful presence.

"Dangelo Holden," I said, my voice clear and steady, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Will you marry me?"

A collective gasp swept through the ballroom again, louder than before. My parents cried out in unison. Kurtis swayed, as if he' d been punched.

Dangelo' s eyes widened, a flicker of surprise in their depths. His gaze dropped to my chin, then swept back up, meeting mine. His lips, usually set in a firm line, curved into a small, almost imperceptible smile.

"Are you sure, Bailey Robinson?" His voice was a low rumble, barely audible over the sudden uproar. "Are you doing this out of spite? Out of anger?"

My head was spinning, but my resolve was solid. "No," I said, looking him dead in the eye. "I' m doing this because I' m tired of being played. I' m tired of fighting for people who don' t fight for me. I' m doing this for me." My voice trembled slightly, but I held his gaze. "And I don' t regret it."

A beat of silence. Then, Dangelo' s smile widened, a genuine, magnetic curve that transformed his rugged face. He extended his hand.

"Then yes, Bailey Robinson," he said, his grip firm as he took my hand. "I will marry you."

The ballroom erupted. My parents were shouting, Kurtis looked like he' d seen a ghost, and Chandra' s face was twisted in a silent scream of fury. They called it a fit of pique, a childish act of rebellion. They said I was throwing my life away, making a mockery of myself.

But they didn' t see. They never saw beyond their own expectations. They didn' t see the years of being overshadowed by Holt' s mediocrity, of being systematically erased by Chandra' s feigned fragility. They didn' t see the cold indifference in their own eyes, the casual dismissals that had chipped away at my soul.

Dangelo' s hand in mine felt surprisingly warm, solid. It wasn't the future I had planned. But for the first time in a very long time, it felt like my own.