Arabella Quinn lived a Barbie dream.
Not the cheap kind in plastic boxes — the real kind, where every day was soft, golden, and wrapped in lace.
Her walls were blush pink.
Her closet had more heels than books.
And her phone screen sparkled with over 100,000 followers who loved her every "good morning" selfie.
She was 21, fresh out of university — barely passed, but it didn't matter. Her future wasn't in grades. It was in charm, beauty, and Quinn family money.
Arabella never learned how to use a washing machine.
Or how to cry in public.
Or how to live without being adored.
Until one quiet afternoon, her father summoned her to the garden — where the lemonade was chilled, the roses bloomed, and the truth hit like a storm.
"You're getting married," he said, adjusting his cufflinks. "To Cassian Vale."
Arabella blinked. "The Cassian Vale? The ice robot from high school?"
"He's not a robot," her father said. "He's the youngest CEO in the city now. 23. Already running ValeCorp. You remember Marcus — his father and I built our empires together. This marriage is legacy, Belle. Loyalty."
"This is ridiculous. I haven't even spoken to him since I was like—what, twelve?! He hated people. He hated me."
Her father chuckled. "That's just his way. He's sharp. Quiet. Smart. And lonely. Maybe you'll… balance each other out."
Arabella scoffed, standing. "You're throwing me into a freezer and expecting me to melt it?"
"I'm not throwing you," he said, softly. "I'm placing you where you belong — beside power. You always wanted a fairytale, Belle. Here it is."
That night, she stood in front of her mirror, pink satin robe clinging to her skin, tears welling up beneath 200-dollar lashes.
She looked perfect. But she didn't feel real.
And somewhere across the city, Cassian Vale was probably reading the same contract — probably not even blinking.
The ice king.
And the doll princess.
Engaged.
Not for love. Not for survival.
Just… for family.
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