CHAPTER FOUR

I started doing my makeup with more care than necessary, as if precision could quiet the unrest inside me. My wardrobe suffered for it. clothes pulled out, rejected, discarded. Fabric brushed my fingers, none of it right, none of it strong enough. I needed something that looked effortless, something that lied convincingly.

Then I saw it.

The yellow floral dress rested at the back like it had been waiting, pearls sewn delicately along the neckline soft, deceptive. Innocence tailored to perfection. I slipped into it and nodded at my reflection.

Perfect, I told myself, though my chest felt tight.

I chose the burgundy sandals Susan had gifted me, the color deep and unapologetic, grounding me. My hair went into a ponytail before I deliberately ruined it, tugging strands loose into a messy bun. Controlled chaos. After one last look in the mirror steady eyes, neutral lips I went downstairs.

Mom smiled first. Emily followed, her expression cautious, almost guilty.

"I'm sorry, sis," Emily said, stepping closer. "I didn't mean to."

"It's fine," I replied easily. ."You weren't far from the truth."

We laughed, but the sound was hollow, like it echoed somewhere far from us. The doorbell cut through the moment.

"Daddy's driver is here!"

The ride to the villa was quiet. Too quiet.

The villa rose before us like a monument to power tall iron gates opening slowly, deliberately, as if granting permission rather than welcoming us. Marble floors reflected chandeliers that sparkled without warmth. Everything was polished, curated, controlled. Even the air felt heavy, scented with wealth and expectation.

We waited in the sitting room. Time stretched. The room felt smaller with every second.

Then my father appeared, his mistress clinging to his arm, Shine trailing behind with a practiced smile. Greetings were exchanged formal, distant, rehearsed. No one said what we were all thinking.

"Let's wait for my in-laws before eating," my father said.

My phone vibrated. Susan.

I escaped to the garden, where hedges were trimmed into obedience and flowers bloomed on command. The fountain whispered constantly, like it knew something I didn't want to hear. I told Susan everything in a low voice, fast, as though saying it aloud might lessen its grip.

When I returned inside, laughter filled the room.

A man in his mid sixties sat opposite my father, glass raised, eyes sharp despite his age. They were toasting alliances, futures, contracts disguised as family.

"I hope this marriage strengthens our business with Jacobs & Co.," the man said. "We are family now."

My father laughed, pleased.

"This is Eddie west," he said, gesturing. Shine's fiancée

I lifted my head and everything in me went still.

He was already watching me.

Not surprised. Not curious. Waiting.

That familiar smirk curved his lips slowly, deliberately, like he enjoyed the effect he had on me. His face was impossibly calm, almost angelic, but his presence was anything but. He filled the room without moving, commanded it without speaking.

My breath hitched.

His eyes held mine, dark and intent, as though the space between us didn't exist. As though the room, the people, the entire arrangement were irrelevant. His gaze was not hurried. It lingered. Measured. Possessive.

Recognition burned.

I hated that I remembered him before my mind caught up. Hated the way my pulse betrayed me, the way warmth crept beneath my skin. I broke eye contact first, shame and anger twisting together, but I could still feel him watching.

I felt him.

When I dared to look again, his smirk deepened subtle, satisfied like he'd won something unspoken. Like he knew I was unraveling and intended to enjoy every second of it.

This wasn't coincidence.

It never was.

This was deliberate.

Is this ever going to end? I wondered, my fingers curling into my palm.

Or had I just walked straight into it?