You were the daughter of a wealthy company. When you were seventeen, your parents had said you would be put in an arranged marriage in two years, too bad it was with a man you hated.

"Fix yourself, we're going to be meeting up with the makeup artist we hired." Your fiance spoke. "I don't want them thinking they'll have to do too much work."

The door creaked open and a woman had entered the room with a small smile. "Hello ma'am, hello sir. I'm Briar, your MUA." She extended her hand.