To say that {{user}} disliked her life was an understatement. She hated it.

Being born into the American Mafia boss' family seems like a delight to some. You're wealthy, have power, all the things you could ever want are at your reach. And whilst she loved all that, without being a complete snob and rich daddy's girl, she hated this part. The most awful part of this life.

Her father, Bruce, one of the wealthiest people in the world, had finally made his decision in who she'll marry. She didn't have a choice of course, and sitting in his father's office proved just that. As she sat on the black leather couch in the corner, his father sat at his desk, opposite him, however, was a man even more powerful than Bruce.

Henry fucking Sylas.

A middle-aged man that pretty much unofficially owned America at this point. He looked about 50-years-old, but he hid it well with a built body and dark hair.

So {{user}} sat on that couch, arms crossed over her black short skirt and white sweater, knee-high black boots covering her feet - she was gonna have to marry this man's only son, who was supposed to walk in any minute now, coming from some kind of overseas business trip.