Chapter 1 Choosing Myself: Run

Sophia Rose's POV

I only have two choices: kill myself or run away.

Dramatic? Yes.

But when your parents decide to sell you off to a rich man like an overpriced Birkin, dramatic starts to feel reasonable.

The thought terrifies me, because I don't want either.

I just want... a choice. My choice.

But choices don't exist for me in the Rose household. So, I've created mine. And since I'm not ready to meet God today, running away it is.

Despite my suitcase spilling out clothes, I scan my closet for any more things I might need on this journey into the unknown.

My hands tremble as I zip up my skirt. My lips quiver as I crumble, fighting tears and fear. My chest grows tighter as everything I've grown to know-my whole world-collapses around me.

I've got only an hour left before my mom returns to my bedroom. Only an hour to leave this privileged yet caged life for good.

They won't see it coming; I've been the perfect daughter, always saying yes to all their demands. The perfect scholar with fine grades, the daddy's girl who comes home from London whenever she's needed. Controlled like a puppet.

I finally returned home with a resolve to figure out what I want to do with myself. That hasn't happened at all. It's been: 'Sophia, do this, not that. Don't be late. Eat your food; not too much...'

The endless rules. The constant scripts to follow!

The latest one is, "Sophia, you're getting married."

Five hours ago, I sat at my desk, mapping out an imperfect plan for my life. I'm brilliant. Got two degrees, a pretty face, and a decent social media following. I figured I could do something.

An hour later, my parents waltzed into my room to announce that they've arranged yet another marriage for me.

They said a lot, but all I heard was how selling their only daughter to a stranger is apparently the smartest business decision my father has ever made.

Talk about perfect timing.

Four times! Four. Freaking. Times! That's how many times my parents have tried to marry me off. The first time, I'd just clocked nineteen.

Now twenty-three, and the same shitty fate keeps following me like a curse.

My father promised the fourth and failed one was the last. But here we are again! Another year, another older rich man. The last one was ten years older. But this time, I'm not waiting to find out our age gap or what he looks like.

I shove what I can into my suitcase and force it shut.

My eyes flick to my jewelry box.

More gold won't hurt. I'll be needing all the money I can get.

Quickly, I stack my wrists and fingers.

My chest thumps rapidly. I've only disobeyed my parents a few times, but nothing comes close to this crazy stunt I'm about to pull-run away from home.

He is coming. Yes. The man my parents have set me up with is on his way to our home for dinner. My scent shouldn't even be here when he arrives. And I have less than an hour.

I step into my heels and pull up my suitcase. The weight halts me for a second, but I drag it out of my closet.

My purse full of cash and more jewelry pieces sits on my vanity.

I wear it across my shoulder.

My phone buzzes.

It's my best friend in London. Layla Queen.

Layla: {Sure about this, Soph?}

With trembling hands, I pick up my phone and reply: {My second option is death, Lay. DO YOU WANT TO ATTEND MY FUNERAL??}

Me: {Tell me he's almost here.}

I twist my mouth, tapping my shoe against the ground as I await her reply.

Most of my close friends are in London or far away from New York. Layla has a friend here who's supposed to pick me up and help with my escape.

Layla: {You're not dying, hon. He'll be at your house in 5}

Me: {ILY. Thanks}

I throw my phone into my purse and move with determination.

My father's company has gone bankrupt anyway. I might as well save myself alone instead of saving everyone. Or the company. I'm no savior; I'm just a girl.

When I get to my door, I open it slightly and peek through. I hear the noise and inhale the feast my mom is putting together for the wicked monster coming to marry me. Everyone is downstairs.

The coast is clear.

I pull my suitcase with me, slipping out of my room.

My phone vibrates. My purse is still open, so I look inside. It's a text from the love of my life-my dad. The love who betrayed me.

LOML: {My love, I'm truly sorry. I promise, I'm doing this for you.}

"Like you promised me Dimitri was the last. I'm the sorry one, Dad." I mutter bitterly before wheeling my suitcase across the hallway. To my father's room. There's a secret exit out of this mansion. Or cage. It leads to our backyard.

They really thought I would do as they say this time.

Well, like my mom said earlier, "It's time you grew up, Sophia." I'm doing just that. Grown-ups make decisions for themselves. And this is the decision I've made.

I push the wall in my father's closet, and it opens to a dark hallway. I move in with my suitcase, and the wall closes in on me.

I use my flashlight instead of turning the switch.

My head is blank as I tumble and struggle down the murky stairs. Perspiration beads on my forehead.

A memory of my father showing me this place for the first time flashes in my head, and tears sting my eyes. I was only nine.

My whole life. My backbone. My everything-I'm leaving it all behind.

Tears slip down my cheeks. My chest caves so painfully. But I'm picking me. I don't know what I want yet, but I definitely know what I don't want.

I don't want to get married. Not even to a billionaire.

Outside now, I exhale deeply, feeling the cool night air caress my face.

I take a first step, and my heels drill into the earth.

Huffing, I throw my head up in frustration.

"You really aren't so smart, Sophia ..." I murmur in regret.

How did I not think to wear comfortable shoes? I guess I'm only book smart, as everyone says.

Nothing is stopping me, though.

I move, dragging and tilling the ground. My suitcase trails a path, leaving evidence of my escape. My heels also pattern the path in polka dots. More evidence. But I'll be gone before anyone discovers this.

When I get to the large beech tree in our backyard, I pause and take out my phone. The tree is tall enough to be seen from outside the walls.

There's already a text from Layla's friend: {I just have to wait where the beech tree is, right?}

Me: {Yes. I'm gonna climb over the wall now. Are you here already?}

Layla's friend: {Okay. I can see the tree}

Sighing, I return my phone to my purse, then shut it.

Now, the game begins.

The first things I get rid of are my heels. I throw them over the wall.

I cannot for the life of me pack light. I tried, but I always need a lot of things.

Picking up my suitcase almost sends me crashing to the floor, yet somehow, I manage to drag it up a sturdy branch. Now, it's sitting on my head and tipping over.

I gasp for air, dripping sweat as I think of how to send it over without falling to my demise.

A whimper slips out of my trembling lips. I push the suitcase with all my might, plastering myself against branches as I cling on for dear life.

The suitcase slips suddenly.

My breath catches. I grip the tree fast.

And in a second, it hits the ground hard. The edges splinter. It bursts open.

"No!" I choke, watching my clothes pour out.

My pulse rings in my head as I tremble on the tree, losing both my mind and grip. I have to leave my suitcase behind?

"I'm here," A deep voice travels to my ear.

I shut my eyes, fighting the urge to vomit and cry at my ugly situation. My legs shake. Sweat dampens my skin as if I've been in an oven.

"Are you there?" Layla's friend speaks again.

My phone starts ringing nonstop. And my heart skips, goosebumps forming all over me. It's my mom calling. I know it.

I decide immediately, pulling my weight up the tree, climbing like a desperate monkey.

The wall is high, but Layla's friend is meant to help.

Pain radiates from my core. Something sharp scrapes against my thighs and arms. I breathe shakily. But there's no going back now.

"Y-you have to catch me," I voice my fear as a painful lump forms in my throat. I guess I don't want to die after all.

"Trust me."

Do I have a choice?

I throw my legs over first. My breath stutters. My chest pounds.

My grip on the wall loosens. I shut my eyes and release myself onto my rescuer.

Heart leaping in my throat, the wind engulfs me as I drop.

And thud!

He catches me. Flawlessly. With effortless strength. Squashed against him. And still standing firm without moving a foot.

I breathe hard, shaking uncontrollably in his grip. My hair is in my face. Yet my eyes flick open to see who's caught me.

"Were you trying to run away from me?" He utters in my face, lips spreading into a smirk-a charming yet terrifying one.

My pulse skitters. Adrenaline and fear paralyze me as I stare into dark but familiar eyes.

He's not Layla's friend. I can tell instantly because I know this person.

"A-Alexander?" I gasp.

"Hello, Sophia,"

My breath seizes.

"Escaping, I see..." he murmurs, brushing hair from my face, "And here I was, looking forward to dinner with my bride."