Chapter 1

The air in my grandmother' s formal dining room was always heavy, thick with the scent of old money and unspoken expectations. Tonight, it was suffocating. The crystal glasses on the mahogany table gleamed under the chandelier, but their sparkle felt cold, like ice.

My grandmother, Eleanor Vance, sat at the head of the table. Her posture was perfect, her silver hair styled into an elegant chignon that not a single strand dared escape. As a world-renowned art collector, she didn't just appreciate art; she believed in controlling it, curating it, and that extended to the people in her life.

Especially me.

"Emily," she began, her voice crisp and final, like a gavel striking wood. "Daniel has made his intentions clear. He is a man of considerable influence in the art world. His gallery is one of the most respected in the country. This union will secure your future."

I gripped the fork in my hand, my knuckles turning white. Daniel, the man sitting beside me, gave my hand a light squeeze. His touch was smooth, his smile charming, but his eyes held a glint of calculation that always made my skin crawl. He was handsome, ambitious, and my grandmother had decided he was my perfect match.

My dream wasn't to marry a gallery owner. It was to become an artist whose work hung in a gallery. The prestigious Blackwood Art Academy was the only place I wanted to be, and my grandmother had promised to fund my tuition. This marriage was her condition.

"An education at Blackwood, a studio, and the Vance family name to support you," she continued, laying out the terms of the deal. "All you have to do is accept Daniel's proposal."

Before I could form a response, a soft, delicate gasp came from across the table.

My cousin, Olivia, pressed a hand to her chest. Her face, usually rosy and animated, was suddenly pale. She swayed slightly in her chair.

"Olivia, dear, are you alright?" my grandmother asked, her tone instantly shifting from authoritative to deeply concerned.

"I'm fine, Grandmother," Olivia whispered, her voice trembling. "Just... a little dizzy."

She tried to take a sip of water, but her hand shook so violently that the glass clattered against her teeth. Then, with a dramatic, breathy sigh, her eyes rolled back into her head and she slumped sideways, collapsing onto the plush carpet with a soft thud.

"Olivia!" my grandmother shrieked.

Chaos erupted. My grandmother shot up from her chair, knocking it over. Daniel, my supposed fiancé, didn't even glance at me. He vaulted over a chair and rushed to Olivia's side, gathering her limp form into his arms.

"Someone call a doctor!" he yelled, his face a mask of heroic concern.

He cradled Olivia, smoothing her hair back from her face, murmuring soft words of comfort to her unconscious form. He looked up at my grandmother, his expression grave and protective.

"Don't worry, Eleanor," he said, his voice resonating with manufactured sincerity. "I'll take care of her. I won't let anything happen to her."

I stood frozen, a forgotten statue in the middle of the unfolding drama. This was a performance, and I was the only one in the audience who seemed to know it. Olivia had always resented my talent, my small successes, the attention my art sometimes brought me. This was her masterpiece of manipulation.

Later that night, after the doctor had come and gone, diagnosing Olivia with "severe exhaustion and a delicate constitution," my grandmother cornered me in the hallway. Her face was etched with worry and a new, sharp edge of disappointment directed at me.

"Your cousin is fragile, Emily," she said, her voice low and stern. "This talk of your future, of your academy, it's clearly too much stress for her."

"Grandmother, she..." I started, but she cut me off.

"She needs our support. The family needs to be united right now, not focused on one person's selfish ambitions. You need to put your plans on hold. Olivia's well-being is the priority."

I stared at her, the injustice of it stealing my breath. My dreams, the future she had just laid out for me, were being swept away by a theatrical faint. I was being told to sacrifice everything for a lie.

"This isn't fair," I whispered.

"Fairness is a luxury, Emily," my grandmother replied, her eyes cold as steel. "Family is a duty."

The weight of her words pressed down on me. The night had started with a conditional promise for my future, and it was ending with me trapped, my dreams held hostage by my cousin' s jealousy and my grandmother' s blind sentimentality. The pressure was immense, a crushing force that left me feeling utterly alone and powerless.