The black sedan stopped smoothly at the entrance. Her parents' mansion—no, her mansion—stretched ahead, every window lit as if welcoming her home. She had lost this house in her previous life. A few months before their wedding, he'd convinced her to put it in his name, telling her it was "for tax reasons." She hadn't realized until it was too late that it was a lie
A red carpet ran straight to the doors.
Several sleek, expensive cars were already lined up along the driveway.
"Holy mother of… Ava, this isn't a party. This is a coronation," Emily breathed, eyes wide. She leaned closer to the tinted window, nose almost pressed against the glass. "Are those… cameras? Actual cameras?"
Ava's jaw tightened. "I don't know who set this up, Emy."
But she did.
Celine Davenport.
This had her fingerprints all over it, the sudden press invite, the lavish decorations, and worst of all, that gown. The off-the-rack, shapeless disaster that made her look like a lost bridesmaid instead of the bride-to-be.
Celine had wanted her to look ridiculous. And she'd succeeded.
The tabloids hadn't spared her, either.
Heiress or Hand-Me-Down?
Vaughn's Mousy Fiancée Fails to Impress.
Each headline had cut like glass.
"Seriously, what's with the press? I thought this was just family and a few 'close' friends."
"It always is, until it isn't."
Ava pushed the door open. The cool autumn air brushed against her warm skin, calming her. She adjusted her dress.
"My mother believes every significant life event deserves a public spectacle. Especially if it involves Mark " she said. "Am sure she will be delighted by this."
"Well, he is quite the catch, isn't he? Future senator, charming, loaded."
"Seriously Emy, whose side are you on."
"Yours." Emily said hopping out, her gaze sweeping across the manicured lawns where valets in crisp uniforms scurried like ants.
"You look gorgeous by the way," Emily whispered, just as the flash of cameras and the hum of people surrounded her. Ava's stomach twisted with nerves, and her hands trembled slightly as security guided her inside. Every click of the cameras made her heart race, but she forced herself to stand tall.
Ava's dark hair cascaded down her back, catching the soft glow of the lights. Her dress, though white was a stunning, floor-length gown, and it fit her like it had been made just for her. The one-shoulder design showed just enough skin, while the high slit along one side revealed a hint of her leg as she moved. Gold embellishments traced the slit and circled her waist, catching every glint of light and adding a touch of luxury. The fabric flowed around her like liquid silk, dramatic and effortless.
She had never dressed this way before, and she knew Mark would be shocked. This wasn't the modest "tent" he and his... Celine, had sent her.
"Ava… Is that you?" Mark's smooth voice echoed behind her as he stepped closer, surprise all over his face. His dark suit impeccable as always. He didn't wait for an answer before brushing a hand against her waist. Every part of her screamed to push him away, to tell him exactly what she thought of him.
He leaned in, pressing his lips to hers. Ava froze, caught off guard, but as his touch grew bolder, revulsion boiled inside her. She shoved him back just enough to create space.
"We're in public, Mark," she said, feigning shyness.
"It's our engagement," he replied, his eyes lingering on her, "and you're looking… wow."
Ava gave a dry laugh and pushed past him with Emily close behind her.
Sweet, shy, compliant Ava was gone.
The scent of lilies and expensive champagne washed over them as they entered the big hall.
A massive chandelier glittered above the grand foyer, casting light across the room. The soft sound of conversation and polite laughter filled the air. Guests in lavish outfits moved in small groups.
Near the sweeping staircase, a cluster of reporters jostled for position, their cameras flashing light all over the hall.
"Everyone who's anyone is here," Emily whispered, her eyes wide as she scanned the room. "Look, isn't that Meghan Trainor? And over there, the editor from Vogue Italia. Ava, this is insane!"
Ava tried to stay calm, but inside she was freaking out. Who was she fooling? She didn't belong here. All the lights, cameras, and fancy people made her feel small. She would rather be in her room, wrapped in a blanket, far away from all this.
But a lot was at stake here. She took a deep breath, hearing her father's voice in her head
You've got this, bluebell.
So she straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin, and forced a smile. Tonight, she would prove she belonged here, no matter how much her hands trembled. Her life depends on it.
"Ava, darling, there you are." A smooth voice, cut through the chatter. Ava's mother, Isabel who was looking radiant in a sapphire gown that shimmered under the chandeliers. Every inch of her screamed grace and control as she glided toward them with her arms open. Her smile was perfect as always.
But her eyes, cold and assessing, scanned Ava from head to toe.
Ava braced herself.
"My, my," Isabel murmured. "You've… changed your look."
There it was, the faintest flicker of disapproval, wrapped in false praise.
"And Emily, so lovely you could make it." She barely paused before her gaze drifted past them toward the entrance. "The Mayor just arrived and he is with Mark waiting for you by the terrace."
Ava's stomach churned. "Of course he is."
"Don't look so glum, dear. This is your night." Her mother's fingers found Ava's elbow, guiding her deeper into the hall "Everyone is here and it's perfect."
Ava merely smiled and followed her.
All eyes were in her and she felt a knot in her stomach.
I hope I don't puke, she thought.
Mark stood by the arched terrace entrance with a practiced smile as he charmed a small group of dignitaries including the Mayor. He looked every bit the perfect fiance, the ideal partner for a life of power and influence.
But she knew better.