The Li mansion stood in its usual silence, the grand halls cold despite their polished perfection. From the outside, it gleamed as a house of wealth and dignity. Inside, tension simmered like a storm waiting to break.
Sara sat at the dining table, pushing food around her plate without appetite. The memory of Grace's whispered deal at the gala still burned in her mind. Every bite tasted like betrayal.
Her father glanced up from his newspaper, oblivious to her turmoil. "You've been quiet lately, Sara. Did you enjoy the Zhao event?"
Sara's lips parted, but Grace's voice cut smoothly across hers.
"She did wonderfully," Grace said with a practiced smile. "In fact, the Zhao matriarch was very impressed. She's asked for a private tea meeting between Sara and their heir."
Sara's fork clattered against her plate. "What?"
Her father blinked, then smiled faintly. "That's excellent news, Sara. A connection with the Zhao family is an opportunity many would dream of."
Sara's chest tightened. "I didn't agree to this."
Grace's smile never faltered. "You don't have to agree, dear. It's already arranged. This is about the family's future, not your whims."
Sara stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. "I'm not some bargaining chip you can trade for alliances!"
Her father's brow furrowed. "Sara, lower your voice."
"No!" Her voice shook, but her anger carried it higher. "Do you even hear yourself? You're letting her—" She pointed at Grace, her hand trembling. "—decide my life for me. Did you ever think to ask what I want?"
For a moment, silence filled the hall.
Grace set her fork down gently, her eyes glittering with steel. "What you want is irrelevant when the family's reputation is at stake. You've lived comfortably under this roof your entire life. It's time you repay that with obedience."
Sara's vision blurred, her chest heaving. "Obedience?" Her voice cracked, raw and full of the years she'd swallowed her grief. "You took my mother's place, and now you want to take my choices too. What else do you plan to steal from me?"
The words struck like lightning. Her father stiffened, his face pale. Grace's mask slipped for the briefest second, rage flashing in her eyes before her smile returned.
"How dare you speak to me that way?" Grace whispered, her tone low and venomous. "Everything I've done has been for this family."
"Everything you've done has been for yourself," Sara shot back. "And I won't let you use me as your pawn."
Her father slammed his hand on the table, the sound echoing through the hall. "Enough! Sara, apologize to your mother."
"She's not my mother," Sara whispered, tears burning hot at the corners of her eyes.
The silence that followed was colder than any winter night.
Her father's jaw tightened. He didn't look at her again. Instead, he turned to Grace, his voice weary. "We'll speak of this later."
Grace inclined her head, victorious in silence.
Sara's chest cracked under the weight of it all. The storm inside her no longer felt containable. With shaking hands, she pushed back from the table and walked away, her steps echoing down the empty corridor.
In the solitude of her room, Sara pressed her hands to her face, muffling the sobs that broke free. She had hoped — foolishly, desperately — that her father might finally see her, might finally take her side.
But once again, he had chosen Grace.
The storm raged, but it no longer felt like it would consume her. Instead, it hardened something deep inside. She wiped her tears with trembling fingers and whispered into the dark:
"If no one protects me… then I'll protect myself."
Downstairs, Grace poured tea with delicate calm, her smile perfectly in place. "She'll come around," she said sweetly.
Her husband sighed, rubbing his temples. "She's just stubborn. She'll understand when she's older."
Grace's lips curved as she hid her satisfaction behind her teacup. "Of course."
But in her mind, the plan tightened its grip. Sara would meet the Zhao heir, whether she wanted to or not. And once the chains were clasped, there would be no breaking them.