chapter 1

Claire’s POV

I quickened my pace, struggling to catch up with my dad. He was way too fast, and he didn’t bother turning back to see if I was still following him or if I had failed to keep up.

“Dad, wait for me!” I called out, scrambling to fix a hairpin that had come loose in my ginger hair.

“Claire, hurry up,” he said, finally turning to look at me, but he continued walking as soon as he did.

Soon, we arrived at a large, imposing door. Dad opened it and walked in, but I paused outside, pulling out my small mirror. I stared at my reflection, adjusting my hairpin for the umpteenth time. I was worried. Today was the day I finally got to meet my future husband, Grey De Luca.

Although I was only eight, and Grey was only ten, our parents had agreed we would marry when we became adults. Dad said it was for the benefit of our family business; if I got engaged to Grey, his father would sign a crucial family alliance with Dad. Even though I hadn’t met him, or even seen what he looked like, I was still excited. I didn’t know much about marriage, but Dad promised it would be really fun, and I was totally down for anything fun.

Still, I was nervous. Dad had told me Grey was very temperamental and easily got mad if things weren't done exactly the way he wanted them. He warned me to be careful with what I said. I had even asked Aunt Jenny to dress me up perfectly because if Grey didn’t like me, he could easily disagree to the marriage agreement. I didn’t want that to happen. Dad wouldn’t like that, and I hated the fact that everything depended on me—I hated responsibilities. Since Grey was basically a spoilt kid, I had to try my best to impress him. Hopefully, he would like me.

I was still standing by the door, fiddling with my hair, when Dad walked back out and leaned down to my level.

“Claire, your hair is perfect. You worry too much for your age,” he said, patting my head gently.

“Daddy, do you think Grey will like me? Do I look pretty?” I asked anxiously. Kids at school didn’t find me pretty. They call me ugly and they bullied me for having ginger hair, braces, and glasses.

“You are pretty, my angel. And I’m sure Grey will find you pretty too,” Dad said.

Liar.

I believed everything he said to me, except this. But I nodded with a small smile, flipping my hair back as though I was one of those supermodels I saw on TV and aspired to look like someday. I made my way nervously into the room. The room was… very basic. I expected more from the first son of Alto De Luca. The room was nice, but everything in it was black, which I guessed was his favorite color. It didn't feel cozy; it felt like a cage, or maybe a tomb. It swallowed the sunlight, and I suddenly felt too small, too bright in my expensive dress. There was no one in the room except a maid who welcomed us.

“Please feel at home,” the maid said with a warm smile, gesturing into the space. I walked in while Dad surveyed the entire space, still standing at the entrance.

“I’ll go inform Grey of your presence,” she said with a final bow before heading out.

“Alright, Princess, I’ll head out now. I need to go see Alto. I’ll come pick you up when you’re done. Remember what I told you?” Dad asked.

“Be at your best behavior, smile, and talk nicely,” I repeated with a smile, and Dad nodded.

Dad headed out, closing the door behind him and leaving me to my fate. I sat on the fluffy chair, swinging my legs back and forth as I patiently waited for Grey to arrive. God, I couldn’t wait to see what he looked like, and what he would think of me.

After almost an hour of waiting, I finally heard the door creak open. My eyes glistened in anticipation as I stared on with the big smile Dad had told me to wear.

The door opened, and in walked who I assumed was Grey De Luca.

My excitement immediately turned into a deep, chilling nervousness as I observed him. He was prettier than I expected, with jet-black hair that fell perfectly over his forehead. His eyes were a deep shade of grey, cold and indifferent. He wore black pants and a white T-shirt that made him look even more imposing. He didn't walk in; he invaded the space. The air seemed to drop five degrees.

He froze at the entrance when his eyes caught mine, and I quickly stood up.

“Hi, I’m Claire,” I stammered, extending my hand for a handshake.

Grey glanced at my hand, but didn't reciprocate the gesture. “Why were you sitting on my coach? Who said you could sit there?” he asked, his voice laced with instant irritation.

I felt a rush of anxiety as he questioned my choice of seat, his irritation palpable even to my eight-year-old senses.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Your maid asked me to make myself comfortable,” I mumbled, quickly stepping away from the fluffy chair and trying my best to hide my nervousness.

Grey eyed me with a critical look, his expression unyielding. “Just because she said that doesn’t mean you could sit wherever you like, dummy.”

Me? A dummy? Who did he think he was to call me that? I didn’t know him personally, but I was pretty sure I was a lot smarter than him.

Grey walked around the room, his eyes scanning everything but me. It made me feel invisible, like he didn't care at all. I remembered what my dad told me about his temper, and I knew I had to be cautious.

After what felt like an eternity, Grey finally turned his attention back to me. His cold gaze bore into mine, making me shrink under the scrutiny.

“My Dad said we’re supposed to get married when we grow up,” I blurted out, attempting to break the awkward silence.

Grey raised an eyebrow, his expression unchanged. “Whatever.”

I mustered the courage to ask, “Do you want to get married when we grow up?”

Grey sighed, clearly annoyed. “Why would anyone ever want to get married to you? Just look at yourself, you’re ugly! Annoying, and a talkative.”

His harsh words struck me like a sudden storm, causing my eyes to well up with tears. I had expected this meeting to be awkward, but I never imagined it would be this hurtful.

I tried to hold back my tears, desperately blinking them away. I felt a lump forming in my throat, making it hard to speak. Grey continued to scrutinize me, his expression unapologetic.

“I-I’m sorry if I did something wrong,” I whispered.

“You did,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, terrifying hiss. “You signed those papers. You consent to tying yourself to someone you don’t know.”

He reached out. I thought he was going to wipe my tears, but his hand moved higher. His fingers hooked around the bridge of my glasses. He didn't pull them off, he gripped them, forcing me to look directly into his frozen stare.

“do you know what it’s like to be miserable? I could show you” he whispered.

With a sudden, sharp crack, he snapped the frames right between my eyes.

I gasped, my vision going half-blind as the broken plastic fell from my face. I stood there, trembling, as he dropped the pieces of my glasses onto the floor and ground them into the rug with the heel of his shoe.

“My father says I have to marry you,” Grey said, stepping over the wreckage of my only way to see. “So I will. But I’m going to make you wish he’d sold you to someone else. I’m going to make sure every day of your life is as miserable as mine.”

He didn't look back as he walked toward his desk. I stood in the center of the black room, sobbing silently, staring at the blurred shape of my future husband, the boy who hadn't just rejected me, but had promised to destroy me.