My mother hovered behind me as the stylist pinned the last curl into place. "Not that necklace," she said suddenly, frowning at the mirror. "The diamond one. The Kingsleys will expect something more... appropriate."
I almost laughed, as if the dress wasn't already saying enough. I was wrapped in a sleek black evening gown that hugged every line of my body as if I were being packaged for display. Which, in a way, I was. They weren't preparing a daughter for dinner. They were preparing an investment for delivery.
The door behind us opened softly. Diana stepped inside. Her eyes filled with something that looked suspiciously like guilt. "Mom, Dad... can I talk to Melissa for a second?" My parents exchanged a glance before leaving the room.
She walked closer, twisting her fingers together the same way she always did when she was nervous. "I didn't ask for this," she said softly. I didn't answer her. "I mean it," she continued. "When they told me about the Kingsley proposal, I-"
"You didn't have to ask," I interrupted gently. She looked up.
"They chose you long ago." The words came out calm. Almost gentle. But they landed exactly where I wanted them to.
Diana tried to respond, but nothing came out.
After a while, she whispered, "I wish things were different." I finally turned to face her fully. "So do I."
But we both knew wishes had never mattered in this family.
___________
"I'm not getting into that car."
My father stopped walking. The driver stood awkwardly beside the open door of the black sedan while the evening wind rustled the trees along the driveway.
My mother turned slowly, her expression tightening.
"Melissa, don't start this."
"I'm not starting anything." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "I'm ending it. Let Diana marry him."
The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut. For a brief second, my father actually looked stunned. Then his face hardened. "You know that's not possible."
My mother stepped closer, lowering her voice like someone trying to calm a child throwing a tantrum. "Do you have any idea what will happen if you embarrass the Kingsleys tonight?" she whispered. "Your father's company will collapse. Everything we've built will disappear."
Everything they had built. Not me. It was never about me.
My fingers curled against my palm. "So I'm the sacrifice," I said quietly. My father didn't even hesitate. "You're the eldest." It was such a simple answer. Clean and convenient.
Diana stepped outside. She hesitated when she saw the tension in the driveway. "Are you still here?" she asked carefully. My mother forced a smile. "Melissa was just about to get in the car."
And this time- I didn't argue. I stepped forward and got into the car
The drive to Kingsley Manor felt longer than usual. No one spoke much. My mother spent most of the ride reminding me about etiquette and posture while my father rehearsed polite conversation topics under his breath.
When the gates of the estate finally opened, my stomach tightened. The manor stood tall and imposing under the evening lights.
Exactly what you would expect from one of the most powerful families in the city. We were greeted in the grand foyer by Jacob Kingsley and his wife, Margaret.
Jacob shook my father's hand firmly. "Mr. Hartwood. Welcome."
Margaret's smile was graceful and perfectly measured.
"Melissa, it's lovely to see you again." Her eyes studied me carefully as if she were evaluating a rare piece of art. Or perhaps a risky purchase.
We moved into the sitting room where drinks had already been prepared. One seat across from me was occupied.
Ethan Kingsley. He leaned back lazily in his chair, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. His eyes lifted when I entered. And stayed there. The look wasn't inappropriate. But it was... assessing. Like he was studying a puzzle.
I sat down across from him. He smiled faintly. "Still time to run," he murmured.
I rolled my eyes.
"Is your brother really that terrible?"
Ethan tilted his head thoughtfully. "You'll see."
That was not comforting.
Dinner began soon after. But Liam still hadn't arrived. The empty seat at the head of the table felt louder with every passing minute. Margaret noticed the silence and offered a calm explanation. "Liam has a habit of finishing work before social obligations."
Jacob nodded. "He'll be here." But even as he said it, something in the room felt tense.
The staff moved around quietly, but their movements carried an unusual stiffness. As if they were waiting for something. Or someone. I tried not to think about the man I was about to meet. But my mind betrayed me anyway.
He could be cold...arrogant...possibly cruel.
After all, what kind of man agrees to marry a stranger just to merge two companies?