Aurora's Point of View
The moment I walked out of the meeting with Daemon Reynolds, my blood boiled. His arrogance, his icy tone, his audacity—it was all too much. The man thought he could intimidate me, but he had another thing coming.
I stormed down the hallway of the estate, barely noticing the opulence around me. Polished marble floors, towering windows with silk drapes, and expensive artwork lining the walls—all of it screamed power and wealth. It wasn't impressive. It was a reminder of the chains this marriage represented.
When I finally stepped outside, the cool evening air hit my face, calming me just enough to stop and breathe. The garden stretched before me, manicured to perfection. But beneath its beauty, I saw it for what it truly was—a carefully curated cage.
I sat on a stone bench, staring at the fountain ahead. Water trickled softly, breaking the silence of the night. My father's words echoed in my mind.
"You'll thank me one day, Aurora. This marriage is what's best for you."
He had no right to decide what was best for me. All he cared about was his company, his reputation, and his deals. I was nothing more than a bargaining chip.
And then there was Daemon Reynolds—cold, calculating, and entirely insufferable. The way he looked at me, like I was just another obstacle he needed to overcome, made my skin crawl. I could see it in his eyes—he had no intention of treating this marriage as anything more than a means to an end.
But what bothered me most was how he spoke about my father. The contempt in his voice was unmistakable, and it only deepened the mystery of what had truly led us to this point.
What did my father do to him?
The question lingered, unanswered, gnawing at me as I sat in the dark. I didn't trust either of them—my father or Daemon. They were both hiding something, and whatever it was, I needed to figure it out.
"Planning your escape already?"
I nearly jumped at the voice. Turning around, I saw Daemon standing a few feet away, his hands in his pockets, his posture as casual as his tone.
"What do you want?" I asked, unable to keep the irritation out of my voice.
He raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "I was curious if you'd already run off to your father, complaining about how I 'mistreated' you."
My fists clenched, but I kept my tone even. "You overestimate your ability to upset me, Mr. Reynolds."
"Is that so?" He took a step closer, his presence as intimidating as ever. "Because you seemed pretty upset back there."
"I'm upset with the situation," I clarified. "Not with you. Don't flatter yourself."
He chuckled softly, the sound low and mocking. "You're quick with words. I'll give you that."
"And you're quick with assumptions," I shot back. "Is there a point to this conversation, or are you just here to prove how insufferable you can be?"
His smirk faded, replaced by a colder expression. "Listen, Aurora. I don't care if you hate me, and I don't care if you think you can outwit me. But if you want to survive this arrangement, you'd better learn to play the game."
I stood, meeting his gaze head-on. "You think this is a game?"
"Everything's a game," he said, his tone deadly serious. "And the sooner you realize that, the better."
I took a step closer, narrowing my eyes. "I don't play games, Mr. Reynolds. I don't lie, cheat, or manipulate people to get what I want. So if you're expecting me to stoop to your level, you're going to be disappointed."
For a moment, he said nothing, his expression unreadable. Then he leaned in slightly, his voice low. "Disappointment is something I'm used to."
His words caught me off guard, and for the first time, I saw a crack in his armor. But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by the same cold, distant demeanor.
"Good night, Miss Sinclair," he said, turning on his heel and walking away.
I stood there, staring after him, my mind racing. There was more to Daemon Reynolds than he let on—that much was clear. But whatever his secrets were, they didn't matter.
I wouldn't let him, my father, or anyone else control my life.
As the fountain's soft trickle filled the silence, I made a vow to myself: I would find out the truth. About my father, about Daemon, and about this marriage. And when I did, I would decide my own fate.
But as I turned to leave the garden, a movement in the shadows caught my eye. I froze, my heart racing as I strained to see through the darkness.
"Hello?" I called out, my voice trembling slightly.
There was no answer.
Just as I was about to dismiss it as my imagination, a figure stepped into the dim light.
It was a man I didn't recognize, his face obscured by the hood of his jacket.
"You're not as safe as you think you are," he said, his voice low and menacing.
Before I could react, he disappeared back into the shadows, leaving me alone in the cold night.