CHAPTER 4

I wasn't able to sleep last night. Every time I would close my eyes, all I could see was his face: Samuel-cold, smug, making his demands from me. The sheets were wrapped around me from all the tossing and turning, like the heavy weight of my thoughts. How could this be happening? How had everything gone so wrong?

The hours ticked by until finally morning light filtered through the curtains. I didn't feel rested. I didn't feel anything but that overwhelming knot in my stomach. I did need to get up, though. I needed to make myself do it. Samuel had made it crystal clear that today wasn't optional.

I shuffled downstairs for breakfast, a cloud of depression hanging over me. Samuel was in the dining room; his usual smugness was replaced by an almost unsettling cheerfulness. It was as though pawning me off to some stranger for marriage was the highlight of his day.

'Well, aren't you in a good mood? ' I thought bitterly, still picking at my food which I tried to force down. He was awfully jolly and paid me no mind. I had to wait till he was done to leave the table-a rule he imposed shortly after Mom's accident.

The bitterness was welling up in me, and I had to bite my tongue so as not to say anything that could make everything more worse than it already was.

I wanted to snap back at him, tell him how I felt about all of this, but I didn't. It wouldn't change a thing, so what was the use? I had no choice in the matter. I just had to go through it.

After what felt like years, he was done. I came upstairs after breakfast feeling like I was walking to my execution. I locked the bathroom door behind me, almost desperate for the privacy of a moment where I could pretend this wasn't happening.

I stood before the mirror, staring at myself for a long moment. What had happened to me? This was me, that girl who used to have dreams and plans, that girl who fought for all things. And now, I was about to be sold off like some commodity. I barely recognized the woman staring back at me anymore. I shaved and plucked what felt like every inch of my body. I bathed in the lukewarm water, scrubbing away the grime of my unease and fear. Then, slowly, I applied very light makeup, just enough to make my face appear fresh and natural. The hair was curled, the soft waves falling about my shoulders. I chose a classy yet simple dress, falling just below my knees in a soft cream color.

I paired this with ballet flats, not wanting to seem too formal or overdone.

I took a step back to view myself, barely recognizing the person staring back at me. My face was pale; my eyes dull from the sleepless night. I blinked away, fighting the tears ready to spill over. I forced myself to do this. I had no other choice.

I turned away from the mirror and strode downstairs; with every step, the echo sounded way too loud in the stillness of the house. I longed for someone-anyone-standing beside me. Yet, I was all alone in this one moment that was to change my life. I pinched myself, reminding myself why I was doing this.

Samuel was standing in the hall when I reached the bottom of the stairs. His eyes scanned me up and down; his gaze was colder than usual yet somehow still approving. He looked pleased, as if he got exactly what he wanted. "You look. presentable," he said with a voice that barely masked the smugness. "Now, remember-just smile and look like you're happy. Don't embarrass me."

I nodded numbly, my hands shaking. A car pulled into the driveway, and my heart almost stopped beating. I felt the weight of my own dread dragging me down. Samuel noticed my reaction and grinned.

"Your new husband is here," he said with his voice thick with satisfaction.

The door opened, and the sound of footsteps echoed from the entryway. My breath caught in my throat, and I froze.

I knew he was here. I knew this was happening. But seeing him—seeing him—in person, was something else entirely. The man who entered was imposing. Tall—way taller than Samuel at least—easily standing at 6'5 with a build that commanded attention. He wore a tailored suit that fit him perfectly, the dark fabric bringing out his broad shoulders. Black hair, lightly gelled and styled neatly to give him an air of refinement, but there was something more beneath it.

Authority radiated off of him, like he didn't just belong in a room, but that he owned it.

But it wasn't his appearance that bothered me. It was his eyes. Silver. Cold. Like mirrors, reflecting nothing but power and control. His eyes immediately searched out mine, and I froze, feeling like a rabbit caught in the headlights of a car. He stared at me for a moment, his eyes unreadable.

He turned next to Samuel, who puffed out his chest and straightened his posture, pleased with himself. Samuel extended a smug-smiling hand. "Adrian Sterling," he said, pride oozing from his voice. "This is the girl who will be your wife. Jenny. She is my lovely stepdaughter."

The man,Adrian, looked down at Samuel's hand for just a brief second, took it in a firm shake. The grip was cold, professional, but there was nothing warm in it. No trace of familiarity, no kindness. All business.

"Samuel Winters," he said, his voice deep and smooth, but it carried an edge. It wasn't a greeting; it was a statement. This man wasn't here to make friends.

He turned back to me then, his eyes assessing, cold, calculating. "So, you're the wife I'm to marry?" he asked, and his tone was so flat, it was as if he really did not care about my answer. Samuel chuckled and pushed me forward; I almost stumbled. "Yes, she is. Say hello to your husband, Jenny."

Sweating, panicked, I opened my mouth and squeaked, "H-Hi.”