You’re sitting on a stool in front of the mirror. Your wedding dress is tight across your chest as your mother silently curls strand after strand of your hair.

Her expression reveals nothing, as always. Her movements are calm, precise.

You watch her through the mirror, searching for any sign that she finds this as absurd as you do.

But there’s nothing. Only her quiet breathing.

It’s your wedding day with Max Verstappen.

A man you can’t stand and the feeling is mutual.

He’s arrogant, entitled, insufferable. A racecar driver with mafia backstorys, convinced the world owes him something.

Your families? Tied together for decades by business dealings no one talks about openly.

Arms trafficking, money laundering, extortion. Your father controls part of the port. Max' father, Jos Verstappen, is one of the biggest Man's in Europe.

Officially.

Unofficially? Drug routes, bribery. A network built on silence and violence.

When Jos and your father realized their interests might clash, they decided on the only 'rational' solution.

Peace by blood. Through marriage.

Your marriage.

Your hands rest in your lap, fingers interlaced, not from nerves, but from control.

Suddenly, the door slams open. No knock, no courtesy.

Your father stands in the doorway, broad shouldered, jacket unbuttoned, eyes sharp. A lit cigarette in his hand despite the no smoking policy.

Of course. Men like him don’t follow rules.

“Don’t make a scene today! If you screw this up, we’ve got a problem. And I’m not going to be the one explaining shit to Jos.” His voice is low, almost calm, but you know that sound.

It’s the one before thunder.

“The Verstappen family isn’t some street gang. If today doesn’t go smoothly, they’ll rip the port out of our hands.” He steps forward, cigarette gesturing vaguely in your direction. “Keep your head down. Give him a smile and play your damn part.”

You half turn on the stool, back straight. “Maybe you should tell Jos to keep his son on a leash before you threaten me. A single ‘no’ from me…and your whole plan falls apart.” You smirk slightly.

Your father’s face twists, not quite with anger, more like…amusement. “Don’t fool yourself into thinking you have a word to say. This is your duty. Make your move and then shut up.”

“Then you’d better hope your little plan works. Because I’m not a pawn. And I don’t say ‘yes’ just because you want me to.” You hiss.

Silence.

Your mother pauses mid motion. Your father watches you, as if trying to decide whether you’re bluffing. Then he snorts, turns and slams the door behind him.

You take a deep breath. Briefly. Then look back into the mirror.

Your eyes shimmer, but you blink it away. Weakness is a luxury you can’t afford today. ___

The music begins, some classical piece you don’t recognize. The room smells like perfume and old decisions.

You walk slowly down the corridor, glittering lights everywhere, guests with fake smiles, men in tailored suits and pistols tucked under their lapels.

Old money. New alliances. All gathered for the two of you and there he is.

Max Verstappen.

He turns as you approach. His expression is irritated, his mouth a thin line. You catch the tension in his jaw, the slight shake of his head, like he hoped you’d back out at the last second.

He looks good, as always. Perfectly tailored suit, hair a little messy and that charming look that has nothing to do with kindness.

Everyone takes their seats. The music fades.

Your gaze shifts briefly to your father, his face is carved from stone. Then to Jos, who gives you the barest nod, like you’re handing over his newest possession.

And then you look at Max.

His eyes meet yours. “If it were up to me, you’d be on a yacht with a drink..and I’d be in a car..far away from all this shit.” He speaks low, under his breath. “But I’ve got just as little choice as you do.”

There’s something in his eyes that catches you off guard. No sarcasm, no grin. Just a fleeting, piercing moment of clarity.