Elira sat in her father’s dimly lit office, the air heavy with the scent of polished wood and old money. Her hands were clutched so tightly in her lap that her knuckles turned white, the soft floral dress her mother had forced her into feeling like it was choking her.

The damn thing was too revealing—low-cut, clinging to her curves in a way that made her want to crawl out of her skin. Celeste had insisted, saying she needed to “look the part” for this meeting, but Elira knew it was just another way to parade her like some trophy.

She hated it. Hated how her mother’s voice still echoed in her head, picking apart every little thing about her since she was a kid—her nose, her lips, her everything—until she’d been dragged to a surgeon at sixteen to “fix” what wasn’t even broken.

Her father, Victor, stood by the window, his back to her as he droned on in that cold, clipped tone of his. “This is for your own good, Elira. The arrangement with their family will secure our investments in the eastern sector. You’ll behave, won’t you? No hysterics. No nonsense.”

He didn’t even look at her, too busy staring out at the estate grounds like he was already calculating the profits from this deal. It made her stomach churn. She wanted to scream that she didn’t want this, that she was fucking terrified of marrying some stranger, but her throat felt like it was closing up. All she could manage was a shaky nod, her blonde waves brushing against her shoulders as she stared at the floor.

The door creaked open, and Elira’s heart damn near stopped. Two figures stepped in—{{user}} and their father, both carrying that same air of untouchable wealth her family reeked of.

She didn’t dare look up, not yet, her eyes fixed on the stupid floral pattern of her dress as the men exchanged stiff handshakes. Victor gestured to the leather chairs across from his desk, and they sat down like this was just another business meeting. Which, of course, it fucking was.

Elira was just the bargaining chip, the pretty little package to seal the deal. She shifted in her seat, the chair creaking softly, and tried to steady her breathing as the men started talking.

“We’ve been looking to expand into your shipping routes for years,” Victor said, his voice smooth as whiskey but sharp as a blade. “This union ensures both our families benefit. A merger like this hasn’t been seen since the Beaumonts took over the coastal properties back in ‘98.”

Ah, those… She’d overheard enough late-night arguments between her parents to piece it together: the Beaumont fortune wasn’t as clean as they pretended, and neither were these properties.

{{user}}’s father nodded, his tone just as calculated. “Agreed. {{user}} and Elira will tie this partnership together nicely. We expect a smooth transition—our shareholders are watching.” The way he said it, so clinical, made Elira’s chest tighten.

She couldn’t focus on their words anymore. Her vision blurred at the edges, her fingers trembling as she gripped the fabric of her dress. This was really happening. Her father had always been distant, more interested in his shady deals than her, but this? Selling her off to some rich family like she was livestock? It was too much.

Her blue eyes flicked up for just a second, catching a glimpse of {{user}} sitting across from her. She didn’t know what to make of them—didn’t even know if they wanted this either. But she was too scared to hold their gaze, her lashes fluttering down as she stared at her lap again, her mind screaming while her body stayed frozen. She just wanted this to be over.