Sofia's POV
Amari Mansion — Engagement Night
I couldn't breathe.
Not because the corset of the champagne-gold dress was too tight—though, believe me, it was—but because I knew the moment I stepped outside, my life would no longer belong to me.
The mirror in front of me reflected a stranger. Perfect curls. Glittering earrings. A face powdered into submission. I looked like every elite girl my father ever praised at his endless galas: silent, pretty, controlled.
Clarisse—my stepmother—floated behind me, adjusting my necklace for the tenth time. "You look beautiful," she said softly, her tone the same one she used when delivering bad news in silk.
I forced a smile. "Thanks."
In the background, Sabrina was complaining loudly about her dress being "too basic for this dusty event." Her heels clicked against the marble like a countdown.
I exhaled slowly and looked back at myself. I didn't choose this dress. I didn't choose this engagement. I didn't even choose this version of myself.
I used to believe I'd get to make choices someday. But then I remembered last week.
"Crocodile tears won't change reality," my father had spat. "You've been engaged to Zayn since before you knew what marriage meant. You're not backing out now."
Backing out. As if this was a business meeting.
Maybe it was.
Because tonight wasn't about love. It was about legacy.
---
The party had already started when I finally walked out, heart stiff behind my ribs. Strings of fairy lights hung from the trees like stars trapped in glass. Gold and ivory flowers trailed along every table. A string quartet played some overpriced classical song that sounded like a lullaby for the rich and restless.
People clapped when I appeared—because that's what you do when a show pony enters the ring.
I smiled. My teeth ached from how forced it was.
Zayn Voss was already waiting at the center of the garden, standing beneath a massive arch of roses like he'd just stepped out of a luxury magazine. Sharp tux. Rolex. That signature empty smile he wore like armor.
He took my hand and kissed it for the cameras. His lips were cold.
"You're late," he said under his breath, still smiling.
"I had to become your porcelain doll first. Took time."
He chuckled. No warmth in it. "Just a few weeks more, Sofia. Then everything will be in place."
In place. Like a chess piece.
---
Sabrina swanned by in a glittering silver dress that clung to her curves like it had loyalty issues. "You clean up nice," she said, sipping champagne. "Shame about the groom though. I'd have aimed higher."
Before I could respond, Hajara appeared—glorious and unapologetic in a maroon gown with combat boots hidden beneath. She linked arms with me.
"She aimed for someone who owns an empire. But you… you can't even aim your lashes properly." Hajara grinned. "Be gone, glitter goblin."
Sabrina's jaw clenched as she strutted off with her nose in the air.
I laughed, breath catching in my throat. "I owe you."
"You owe me tacos and three hours of venting later," she replied, her voice softer now. "You okay?"
"Ask me after the cameras stop clicking."
---
And then everything shifted.
A sleek black car pulled up outside the gates.
Heads turned. Even the string quartet stuttered into silence for a breath.
The door opened—and he stepped out.
Khalid Voss.
The elder brother. The family ghost.
Rumor said he'd left the country years ago after a fall-out with his father. Others whispered he'd refused to take over the Voss empire, giving Zayn the throne instead. I didn't know what was true—but I knew this: his presence made the air feel heavier.
He wore black on black. No tie. No smile. Just this stormy presence like the calm before a hurricane.
His eyes scanned the crowd lazily, and then they landed on me.
And stuck.
I didn't move. Couldn't.
Khalid looked at me like he was reading a page no one else dared to open. Not like a man staring at his brother's fiancée.
But like a man recognizing a mirror.
Something flickered across his face, gone in an instant.
Then he looked away, walking toward the house without a word.
I barely noticed that I was holding my breath.
---
Dinner was uncomfortable, even by rich-people standards.
I sat beside Zayn, smiling for the cameras as guests toasted to a marriage I wasn't even sure would feel real. Across from me, Khalid leaned back in his seat, fingers lazily turning the stem of his wine glass.
He hadn't said a word all evening.
Until now.
"You don't look happy," he said suddenly, voice low but sharp.
My fork paused mid-air. My heart did too.
"I'm engaged," I said, lifting my chin. "I'm expected to glow."
"Expected," he repeated, and his lips curled—not quite a smile, more like amusement edged with ice.
Zayn tensed beside me. "Ignore him," he muttered. "He came here to be dramatic."
Khalid raised an eyebrow. "No. I came here to see what kind of woman you're pretending to love."
Zayn shot him a look sharp enough to slice. "This isn't the time."
Khalid didn't answer. He just looked at me again.
And I knew.
He saw through me.
And it terrified me more than anything else.
---
Later, I slipped away from the crowd and walked toward the quiet side of the garden, where the lights dimmed into shadows. I stood near the rose hedge, clutching my phone like it could anchor me.
"Sofia."
His voice came from behind me.
I turned slowly. He was standing there, hands in his pockets, the moon catching the sharpness of his cheekbones.
I swallowed. "You're not supposed to be here."
"Says who?" he asked. "Zayn?"
"This is my engagement party."
"You don't look engaged. You look imprisoned."
I blinked.
He took a step closer, not threatening—but intense. Like his presence alone peeled layers off my carefully controlled mask.
"You don't know me," I said quietly.
"I know cages when I see one," he said. "And I know girls who smile like you. Like they're trying not to drown in front of an audience."
Something inside me cracked.
"You shouldn't say things like that," I whispered. "People might hear you."
"Then maybe they should finally listen," he said.
We stood in silence. His eyes weren't soft, but they weren't cruel either. Just… real. And for the first time all night, I felt like I wasn't alone in this illusion.
Then he said it.
"You don't belong in a world built on chains. Run… while you still can."
My breath caught.
Before I could respond, my father's voice rang out from across the lawn.
"Sofia! Pictures with the guests!"
I turned quickly. Khalid was already walking away, like he hadn't just shaken my world with a single sentence.
I watched his silhouette vanish into the crowd.
And for the first time, I wondered—
What would happen if I didn't do what I was told?