Chapter 1 Alessandra Dione stood motionless

Alessandra Dione stood motionless at the grand entrance of the Arquette estate, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, nails digging into the soft fabric of her dress. The towering iron gates had creaked open minutes ago, yet she found herself unable to move forward. The weight of what awaited her inside pressed down on her chest, suffocating. She had always known her life was not her own, that she was nothing more than a pawn in her family's ambitions. But knowing and experiencing were two vastly different things.

She exhaled slowly, willing herself to step onto the polished marble driveway, her heels clicking against the cold stone. The mansion loomed before her, an imposing structure of ivory and glass, pristine and untouchable-just like the man she was about to marry. Lucian Arquette. The name alone carried the kind of weight that made people lower their voices when speaking of him. A man known not for warmth, but for power. A man who had once loved, only to have it ripped away from him in the cruelest of ways.

Now, he was to be her husband.

Not because he wanted to. Not because she wanted to. But because duty dictated it.

Alessandra knew what was expected of her. A wife in name, a mother in obligation. She was not meant to replace the woman who came before her, nor was she foolish enough to believe she could ever hold a place in Lucian's heart. His heart was buried with his first wife. Whatever remained was ice and duty, a hollow existence built on necessity rather than desire.

As she stepped into the foyer, the air inside was colder than she expected, as if the very walls carried the frost of its owner's soul. A butler greeted her with a stiff nod, his gaze impassive, already accustomed to the lifeless routine of this house.

"Mr. Arquette is expecting you," he said, leading her deeper into the mansion.

Her fingers curled at her sides as she followed, her pulse steady but tight. No warmth welcomed her here-no flowers, no gentle touches of color, nothing to soften the overwhelming silence. Just a house that felt more like a mausoleum than a home.

Then she saw him.

Lucian stood by the grand fireplace in his study, the orange glow of the flames casting sharp shadows across his chiseled features. He was tall, lean, and composed, his dark suit impeccably fitted, his expression unreadable. His hands rested in his pockets, exuding a kind of controlled indifference that made her chest tighten.

"Alessandra." His voice was deep, smooth, yet utterly devoid of emotion.

She lifted her chin. "Lucian."

It was the first time she had spoken his name aloud, and it tasted foreign on her tongue-heavy, unwelcoming.

His gaze drifted over her, not with admiration or curiosity, but with measured assessment, as if she were nothing more than another contractual obligation to be reviewed. "You're here earlier than I expected."

"I thought it best to get this over with," she said, forcing steel into her voice, unwilling to let him see the nerves coiling in her stomach.

A flicker of something passed through his eyes-approval, perhaps, or something colder. He tilted his head slightly. "Efficient. Good."

That was all. No welcome, no acknowledgment of what this moment meant for either of them.

Alessandra had spent years preparing for this life, trained to smile, to obey, to fulfill the role expected of her. And yet, standing before this man, she realized how little she truly understood what it meant to be bound to someone who had no space left for her.

Lucian moved to his desk, picking up a stack of papers. "The marriage contract has been finalized. Read it, sign it. Our engagement will be brief. The ceremony is in a week."

A week.

So soon.

Her fingers clenched at her sides, but she didn't let the shock show. She simply nodded and took the documents from him, her hands steady even as her heart faltered.

This was it. The beginning of a life she had no say in.

The beginning of her life as Alessandra Arquette.