The city stretched endlessly beyond the tinted glass, its neon veins pulsing with life. France at night was a different beast—one that whispered fortunes to those who knew how to listen and swallowed the unworthy whole.

 My reflection in the car window stared back at me, composed. A mask perfected over years of expectation.

 The Rolls-Royce purred to a stop in front of Le Jardin. The valet barely met my eyes as he opened the door, bowing low before stepping aside. Deference. Not to me, but to my name.

 Inside, the hush of wealth settled over me like silk. Conversations were muted; movements choreographed.

 The maître d’ inclined his head the moment he spotted me, guiding me to the farthest corner, where a private table sat under the soft glow of crystal chandeliers.

 They were already waiting.

 My mother, Vivienne Laurent, barely looked up as I approached, but I felt her gaze sweep over me in silent assessment. Her black dress was razor-sharp, her diamonds subtle but undeniable. Beside her, my father, Dimitris, sat with the stillness of a man who never needed to prove himself. Power radiated from him. The kind that shaped empires and crushed obstacles without ever lifting a hand.

 And then there was Aziel?

 He sat across from them, a glass of wine balanced effortlessly between his fingers. He was composed, watching me with the quiet intensity of a man who saw everything but revealed nothing.

 His suit was a shade too dark to be called navy, his cufflinks glinting under the low light. Understated, but only to those who didn’t understand the language of wealth.

 And his father, Gregory Hernandez.

 A man whose presence carried the weight of old money and ruthless business tactics. He regarded me with the kind of interest that made my skin itch—calculated, assessing, as if I were another piece on his chessboard.

 I slid into my seat with practiced grace, my expression betraying nothing.

 “You’re late.” My mother’s voice was smooth, edged with amusement.

 “Traffic.”

 She hummed, as if indulging me. She didn’t care about my excuses—only that I was here.

 Dinner arrived in waves—meticulously plated, outrageously decadent. I barely tasted the foie gras as I took measured bites, playing my part in the unspoken script we all followed. Every so often, I felt Aziel’s gaze settle on me.

 Gregory took a sip of his wine before settling his gaze on my father. “I assume you’ve heard the whispers, Laurent. The market isn’t kind to uncertainty.”

 My father gave a tight smile, the kind he reserved for men he considered his equals but secretly resented. “Rumors mean nothing. The company is still stable.”

 Gregory chuckled, shaking his head. “Come now, let’s not dance around reality. Your company has been bleeding for months. Investors are wary. The press is circling. And yet, you’ve held it together—admirable, but unsustainable.”

 I stiffened. What does he mean by bleeding for months?

  And the press?

 My mother reached for her glass, her expression neutral, but I caught the way her fingers tensed around the stem.

 “Which is why this partnership is crucial,” my father replied smoothly. “A merger between our families strengthens both brands. A united front reassures investors. We bring decades of expertise, and the Hernandez name carries global influence.”

 A merger. The word settled like heavy in my stomach.

 Aziel, who had been mostly quiet, leaned back in his chair, swirling his drink lazily. “A merger would certainly be… beneficial.”

 His father glanced at him before turning his attention to me. “Celeste, your work in the industry has been commendable. Your ability to handle negotiations, public relations—you understand the importance of maintaining an image. That’s rare in young people today.”

 I gave him a polite nod, unsure of where this was going. “Thank you, Mr. Hernandez.”

 “Gregory,” he corrected. “And with all the eyes on your family now, I imagine the pressure must be… considerable.”

 Everything about his tone made me uneasy. I turned to my father, expecting an explanation, but he simply smiled.

 “We’ve handled pressure before,” I said carefully.

 Gregory hummed. “Of course. But pressure reveals cracks, doesn’t it?” His eyes lingered on me, and I felt my jaw tighten.

 This was more than just business.

 Aziel sighed, looking directly at me now. “Do you remember the first time we worked together, Celeste?”

 I glanced at him. “Yes.”

 We had handled a project together years ago, negotiating a deal between two feuding companies. He had been efficient, detached, and utterly impersonal. I hadn’t given him much thought since.

 He smirked. “You were relentless.”

 “I prefer effective.”

 Gregory let out a chuckle, nodding. “And that is exactly what makes you the perfect representative of your family.”

 The air in the room shifted. They weren’t just talking about business. They were talking about me.

 I picked up my wine, taking a measured sip before setting it down. “I appreciate the compliments, but I’m still not sure why I’m here.”

 Silence.

 A brief, heavy pause that left me thinking just what they were going on about.

 Then my father finally spoke. “Because, Celeste, your presence is integral to the success of this deal.”

 Aziel’s smirk deepened. His father watched me closely.

 I exhaled slowly, my fingers tightening around the stem of my glass.

 “I see,” I said, keeping my voice even. “And what exactly does this deal entail?”

  Gregory leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. “Your family’s company needs stability. Ours offers it. In return, we ensure a mutually beneficial alliance. A lasting one.”

  His words were careful. Deliberate. But I wasn’t a fool. This wasn’t just a business deal.

  I turned to my mother, searching for some kind of confirmation, but she only offered me the same serene, unreadable expression she always wore in these settings. My father, however, was looking at me expectantly.

  And then it hit me.

  An arranged marriage.

  To Aziel.

  The realization nearly knocked the air out of my lungs, but I held my composure. I had always known I wouldn’t marry for love, but to have the reality of it laid bare so casually… it made me feel like an object being traded.

  I swallowed. “I see.”

  Gregory watched me closely. “You understand, of course. This isn’t just about the companies. This is about legacy. Public image. Strength in unity.”

  I had to fight the urge to laugh. Strength in unity. What a poetic way to say I was being sold off.

  Aziel finally spoke, his tone lighter than the weight in the room. “Well, at least we know each other. That should make it easier.”

 I turned to him sharply. Easier?

 I forced a smile. “How considerate of you.”

  His lips twitched, but he said nothing.

  I wanted to walk out. I wanted to scream, to argue, to demand why they hadn’t told me sooner, and why they hid how badly the Laurent enterprises was suffering.

  But instead, I smoothed the fabric of my dress, sat up straighter, and gave the answer I knew was expected of me.

 “When would this be happening?”

  My mother exhaled quietly, a barely noticeable relief in her posture.

  My father smiled. “A month.”

 A month!

  A month to adjust to the fact that my life was no longer my own.

  A month to push aside the part of me that ached for someone else entirely.

  I nodded once. “Understood.”

  I finished my wine in one sip, stood up, and excused myself.

  By the time I arrived home, exhaustion had settled into my bones, but it wasn’t the kind that sleep could fix. I peeled off my dress, letting the fabric pool at my feet, and stepped into the bathroom. The water scalded my skin, but I let it. It was grounding, burning away the weight of expectation for just a moment.

 Dressed in silk, I slipped into bed, my phone in my hand before I could think twice.

  Me: I’m home.

  It didn’t take long. Ava’s name flashed across my screen, her video call coming through. I answered, and there she was—warm, familiar, mine in ways the rest of my life wasn’t.

  “Took you long enough,” she murmured, her voice low and teasing. “Thought they kidnapped you.”

  A tired smile tugged at my lips; the sound of her voice softened something inside me. “Something like that.”

 She tilted her head, studying me through the screen. “You okay?”

 I hesitated.

 Lying to Ava had always felt impossible. But telling her the truth—telling her about Aziel, about the arrangement—felt even harder.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  She arched a brow, “Want me to come over?”

  Yes.

  But then I remembered. The merger. And all the paperwork I will probably have to go over tomorrow.

  “I have an early day tomorrow,” I said instead. “But… lunch?”

  Ava narrowed her eyes slightly but nodded, because I never turned down an offer to be with her, and most certainly not to work.

  She shifted on the other end of the line, her sheets rustling. “You really okay?”

  No.

  Not even close.

  I swallowed. “Of course.”

  She looked like she didn’t believe me. But she didn’t push, either. Instead, she simply started talking. We talked until my exhaustion won out; her voice, the last thing I heard before sleep pulled me under.

  For now, I could pretend things were the same.

  Even though I knew that soon, they wouldn’t be.