"If looks could kill, my sister would've buried me right here."
The clink of champagne glasses and the soft hum of jazz filled the elegant garden, but Amy felt like she was suffocating. Everyone was smiling, hugging, congratulating her younger sister, Tessa—the bride-to-be. Everyone except Tessa herself, who stood across the lawn, glaring at Amy like she'd ruined her life.
Because in a way… she had.
"I should be the one wearing that dress," Tessa had hissed an hour ago. "But no—because you have to get married first."
Amy gripped her glass tighter. The tradition was old. Stupid. Outdated. But their mother had insisted: the eldest daughter must marry first, or the younger's wedding would bring bad luck. And Tessa, ever the perfect daughter, ever the golden one, had finally found love—only to be told she couldn't have it until Amy did.
Her phone buzzed in her clutch. A message from her mother.
We need to talk. Come inside. Now.
Amy sighed, smoothing down her satin dress as she excused herself and slipped through the French doors of their family estate.
Her mother waited in the hallway like a woman on a mission. Regal. Icy. Strategic.
"There's a man you're going to marry," she said without preamble. "It's already arranged.
Amy blinked. "I'm sorry… what?"
"He's a businessman. Rich. Respected. His name is Desmond."
Amy's heart dropped. She'd heard that name before—whispers of ruthless deals and an empire built on iron will. And now… her future?
Her mother offered a cold smile. "It's a contract marriage. One year. No emotion required. All you have to do is say yes."
Amy's stomach twisted. "You want me to marry a stranger? For a year?"
Her mother stepped closer, tone clipped. "This isn't about romance. It's about responsibility. Your father and I agreed—this is the only way forward. Desmond King is a powerful man. Clean reputation. No scandals. And he needs this arrangement just as much as you do."
Amy folded her arms. "Why would he need it?"
Her mother's gaze hardened. "That's none of your concern."
Of course it wasn't. Amy wasn't a daughter in this house. She was a bargaining chip. A checkmark. A key to unlocking her sister's future.
And yet, somewhere in her chest, a quiet part of her flared with defiance.
"I'm not a pawn," she said softly, but her mother was already pulling out a crisp envelope.
"Your flight leaves in the morning. He's waiting in New York."
Amy stared at the ticket. This wasn't just a suggestion. It was an ultimatum wrapped in velvet and threats. Her mother wouldn't say it—but if she refused, the family would blame her for tearing everything apart. Her sister would never forgive her. The shame would crush her.
She had one choice: marry Desmond King… or burn everything down.
Back in her room, Amy stared at the mirror. Her reflection looked like a stranger—lipstick too perfect, eyes too wide. The girl who'd dreamed of love, of finding someone who'd adore her for her heart, not her usefulness… that girl was fading fast.
But Desmond?
She'd heard the rumors. Cold. Brilliant. Dangerous when crossed.
If she said yes, she'd be trading one prison for another.
And yet, her fingers curled tighter around the envelope.
Maybe, just maybe… she'd find a way to flip the game.
Amy stepped back into the garden as if the air had thickened around her. The laughter and soft music now sounded like echoes from another life—a distant one where she still had a choice. The guests hadn't noticed she'd vanished. Why would they? She wasn't the star tonight. She was just the shadow that kept the real bride-to-be from shining.
Tessa stood near the fountain, radiant in a pale pink dress, surrounded by friends and her fiancé, David. Her eyes met Amy's for a brief, scalding second—long enough to send the message: You're ruining everything. Amy looked away quickly, her chest tightening. Shame clawed at her ribs. No one saw the weight she was carrying. No one asked how it felt to sacrifice herself just to keep the peace.
She forced a smile as someone offered her another glass of champagne. Her fingers trembled slightly as she took it. The bubbles tickled her throat, but her stomach churned. Desmond King. A stranger. A man who could own her life on paper. Her fate was sealed in a first-class ticket and a contract she hadn't even read. And yet, she raised her glass anyway—because in this family, pretending was survival. And tonight, Amy was nothing if not a survivor.