Chapter One

Angela sat across from her father, tension brewing between them. Her back stood straight, her fingers clenched together in her lap. Her heart drummed against her ribs as she tried to hold his gaze. The heavy curtains on the window blocked out the daylight from the room, leaving the room cloaked in shadows. A wide slab of polished mahogany desk stood between her and her father like a barrier between them.

“Father,” she said softly, “I’ve been accepted into the Film Academy in Milan. It’s everything I’ve dreamed of since I was a child.”

Her father's eyes didn’t soften. They narrowed instead, cold as ice. “Dreams don’t feed families, Angela. Dreams don’t keep our name in society’s books. You should know this by now.”

“What do you mean Dad? I’m not trying to ask you for money,” she pushed back quickly, her voice trembling but fierce. “I just need your blessings. I believe I can earn my way. I’ll work while I study. I need you to believe in me.”

“Believe?” He scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “Believe in what? In you playing pretend on a stage, embarrassing our family? No, Angela. You will not make a mockery of us.”

Her throat tightened. “It isn’t mockery—it’s art Dad. Acting is who I am. It’s the only thing that makes me feel alive.”

“Enough!” His fist struck the desk, the sound like a whipcrack. “You will forget this foolishness. You will not set foot in that Academy. I have already arranged your future.”

Her stomach sank. “Arranged my future? How?”

“I’ve spoken with Daniel Rourke,” her father said, his tone final, merciless. “The wedding will take place next month. You will be his wife.”

The words slammed her ears like a blade. Angela rose from her chair, her pulse screaming in her ears. “No. Father, you can’t—”

“I can. And I have.” His eyes gleamed with a cruel kind of pride. “He is a powerful man. Wealthy, ruthless, the kind of man who can protect this family, who can restore what I’ve lost. There is nothing you can do about it now. The deal has been signed.”

Tears stung her eyes, but her fury drowned them out. “Father I won’t. I won’t marry him. I don’t even know who he is. How could you do this to me?” her voice broke. 

“You will do as you’re told!” he thundered. “You are my daughter. Angela, you must not disgrace me.”

She shook her head violently. “You’re trading me like property! Do I mean nothing to you?”

“You mean everything to me,” he said, his voice quieter now, but the softness was poisoned. “That’s why I’m doing this. Love is weakness, Angela. And weakness destroys families. You will not follow your mother’s path of foolish dreams, I'll make sure of that.”

Her chest heaved. “You loved Mother. Don’t use her against me. She wanted me to be free. She told me to follow my heart...”

“Your mother,” he cut in sharply, “was naïve. And look where it led her. To an early grave. I will not let you ruin yourself either. You must get married to him.”

Angela's legs wobbled, but she forced herself to stand tall. “You’re destroying me yourself if you go through with this. Do you even hear yourself? You’d rather shackle me to a man I don’t love than see me live honestly?”

He leaned forward, his eyes like daggers. “You think love matters? Love is for peasants. The only thing that matters in this world is power and money. You're lucky Rourke has both.”

“I don’t want his power. I don’t need his money.” She screamed. “I want my life. That is all I ask. If you force me into this marriage Father, you’ll lose me forever. I promise you that.” Her words were not just a promise. It was a warning. 

For a brief moment, something shifted in his expression. Regret? Fear? It didn't matter, it vanished quickly, replaced with cold certainty. “Then so be it.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. The tick of the clock grew unbearable. Angela’s breath caught in her throat. “You’d rather lose me than let me be free? You disappoint me, Dad,” she said, her voice laced with disdain. 

“I’d rather see you alive, protected, and respectable, than chasing a fantasy that will chew you up and spit you out.” His tone was carved in stone. “The entertainment industry is not for girls like you and that's my say in this matter. It is no longer up for debate. I've made up my mind.”

She slammed her hands against the desk, her voice breaking into a scream. “I won't let you sell me off like an object. I'd rather vanish than become forced to marry a ruthless billionaire, power or not.”

“You will,” he said simply, like his word was law. “And if you try to run, Angela… I will find you. And I will drag you to the altar myself.”

Her body shook with rage. “I dare you.” she seethes. “You're forgetting something, Father. You don’t own me.”

“I do until that ring is on your finger,” he said, standing tall, towering over her. His shadow swallowed her whole. “After that, you'll belong to Daniel Rourke.”

She stared at him, horrified, her world cracking open under her feet. “You are practically selling me out,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Like I’m nothing but the goal to your ambition. And all because of what? Money? Power?”

His eyes glinted, cruel and final. “Exactly.”

Her breath left her in a gasp, like he had struck her. The man she had trusted, the man who had once called her his treasure, had reduced her to a means to an end. She staggered back, her hand covering her mouth.

“Father…” Her voice broke, soft and strangled. “How could you? I thought you loved me?”

“I do my daughter. But I have no choice,” he said coldly. “And neither do you. With time you'll come to understand.”

The door burst open then, startling them both. A servant stepped inside, pale and trembling. “Sir… Mr. Rourke is here.”

Angela’s head whipped toward the doorway, her heart pounding in her throat. “What?” she breathed.

Her father’s lips curled into a grim smile. “Perfect timing.”

“No.” Angela shook her head frantically, stumbling backward as footsteps echoed down the hall. Heavy, deliberate, approaching her father's office like a predator. “I don't want to see him. Please. I don't want to get married to him.”

But her father only straightened his suit jacket and moved toward the door. “It’s time you met your husband, Angela. Whether you want it or not.”

The handle turned and the door creaked wider. The man who would soon claim her walked into the room, slowly. Each step sure looked like he owned it. Like he owned her.