Chapter 3

A few days later, Marcus announced we were going to a charity gala.

"You need to re-enter society, Ava," he said, as if my time at Serenity Pines had been a voluntary retreat.

He laid out a dress on my bed.

It was expensive, an evening gown of dark, conservative silk.

It was beautiful, in a severe, old-fashioned way.

Lydia's preferred style, I knew.

Lydia, his college sweetheart, the one who died, the one I resembled with an uncanny, cursed likeness.

The reason he' d taken me in after my parents died, distant acquaintances of his.

I hated the dress on sight, it felt like a costume, another layer of his control.

"It's lovely, Marcus," I said, my voice flat.

There was no point arguing. I'd learned that lesson well.

At the gala, the ballroom buzzed with polite conversation and the clinking of champagne glasses.

Marcus kept me close to his side, his hand a heavy weight on the small of my back.

He pointed out a young woman across the room, a debutante, surrounded by admirers.

"With proper behavior, Ava," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear, "you too could be presented like that. Find a suitable match."

My blood ran cold.

A suitable match. He meant he would marry me off, probably to one of his business associates, another way to keep me tethered to him, owned.

The thought was suffocating.

I needed to get away, even for a moment.

"Excuse me, Marcus," I said, forcing a small smile. "I need some air."

He nodded, his eyes following me as I slipped away towards the terrace doors.