The Li family mansion gleamed beneath the evening lights, but to Sara it felt more like a gilded cage. She dragged herself through the marble-floored hall after the exhausting day at the academy, her mind still haunted by Emily's smear campaign.
She hoped for quiet — but the sharp, honeyed voice waiting in the sitting room told her otherwise.
"There you are, Sara."
Her stepmother, Grace, sat elegantly on the velvet sofa, a crystal glass of wine in her hand. She looked every bit the perfect hostess, dressed in silks that caught the light, her smile warm enough to fool anyone who didn't know better.
Sara stiffened. "What do you want?"
Grace tsked softly. "Such hostility, darling. I only wished to speak. Sit with me."
Sara remained standing, clutching her schoolbag like a shield. "Say what you have to say."
Grace's smile widened, though her eyes gleamed with cold amusement. "Very well. I've spoken with your father. He agrees it's time we think about your future. You're of age, after all. Suitors will begin calling soon."
Sara's blood ran cold. "Suitors?"
Grace swirled her wine lazily. "We've already had inquiries. Families of standing, wealth, and power. Families who can ensure your… stability. Don't look so surprised. A girl like you needs protection. You'll thank me one day."
Sara's grip tightened on her bag. "You mean control. You want to marry me off to strengthen your position."
Grace laughed lightly, a sound that grated against Sara's ears. "Always so dramatic. Think of it as… ensuring your place in society. Do you want to live in the shadows forever? Clinging to scraps of reputation while your friends shine? No, Sara. You deserve better — and so does this family."
Sara's stomach churned. She wanted to shout, to throw the words back at her, but Grace's calm, unshakable poise made her feel small, cornered.
At that moment, the front door opened. Her father stepped inside, weary from work, tie loosened around his neck.
"Father," Sara blurted, rushing to him. "You can't let her do this—"
"Enough, Sara," he cut her off, his tone sharp. "Grace is right. It's time you thought of your responsibilities. You can't live like a child forever."
Her chest tightened painfully. "Responsibilities? What about my dreams? My choices?"
Her father avoided her gaze, walking past her toward the stairs. "This conversation is over."
Grace rose gracefully, brushing invisible dust from her dress, her victory as silent as it was cruel. She placed her glass down and leaned close to Sara, her voice low enough that only she could hear.
"Do you see now? He trusts me. He listens to me. And you? You're just a naive girl clinging to fantasies. Sooner or later, Sara, you'll do as I say."
Sara's fists trembled at her sides, but she forced herself not to cry. She wouldn't give Grace the satisfaction.
Grace swept out of the room, humming softly, leaving Sara standing alone.
Later that night, Sara sat in her room, staring at the moon through her window. The words replayed in her mind like a curse: Suitors. Control. Responsibilities.
But beneath the despair, a flicker of determination began to burn. She thought of Lina, Adrian, Ryan, Leo — their unwavering support. She thought of Daniel's steady gaze, the silent promise in his eyes.
Her stepmother might have her father under her thumb. She might have wealth, influence, and the entire household bending to her will. But Sara still had something Grace could never control: her own resolve.
She whispered into the darkness, a vow to herself.
"You won't break me. Not here. Not ever."
The night carried her words like a prayer, and for the first time, Sara felt the faint stirrings of defiance stronger than her fear.