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Butterflies. That fluttering sensation in your stomach. Most people associate it with love, excitement, or the thrill of the unknown. For me, it’s more complicated. Sure, I feel them when I’m dancing with my best friend at a club or acing a tough project at work. But today, there are no butterflies.

Today, my stomach feels like lead, sinking deeper with every word my mother says.

“We know this is a lot to process, Sophia , but it’s for the best,” she says, her perfectly manicured nails tapping nervously on the arm of the leather couch.

My father, usually a silent observer in family drama, looks worse than usual. His gaunt face, framed by graying hair, makes him seem like a ghost of the man I grew up admiring. He’s hunched over in his chair, gripping a whiskey glass like it’s the only thing tethering him to reality.

“‘For the best?’” I echo, my voice sharper than I intend. “You want me to marry some stranger to save your failing business? Are we in the 1800s?”

My mother’s lips thin into a line. “Sophia , we’re not asking you to fall in love with him tomorrow. Just meet him. His family is willing to invest in your father’s company, but this alliance is… conditional.”

There it is. The ugly truth. Conditional.

My father finally speaks, his voice raspy and weak. “Princess, the Lorenzos are powerful. Their son, Dante, is a good man. This could secure not just the business, but your future.”

I stand abruptly, nearly knocking over the coffee table. “Secure my future? By selling me off like some pawn in a chess game? I have a boyfriend, Dad!”

“Liam ,” my mother says, with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “The same Liam who’s been cheating on you? The one you keep taking back like a fool?”

That lands like a slap. My vision blurs with anger, and my cheeks flush hot. “How do you even know about that?”

“Because everyone knows, Sophia !” she snaps, rising to her feet. Her tone is sharper now, her composure cracking. “Do you think Clara hasn’t told me about the countless times she’s seen him with other women? And yet, you cling to him like he’s your savior.”

Clara.

The name twists like a knife in my gut. My best friend. The one person I’ve confided in about everything, including Liam ’s betrayals.

“Don’t drag Clara into this,” I warn, though my voice wavers.

“Oh, sweetheart,” my mother says, her voice dripping with mock pity. “You really are naïve, aren’t you?” She crosses her arms, her eyes glinting with something I can’t quite place. “Do you want to know who Liam was with last weekend? At the hotel? It wasn’t just any woman.”

I freeze. The room seems to tilt.

“What are you talking about?” I demand.

She hesitates, then delivers the blow. “It was Clara.”

The air is sucked out of the room. My knees threaten to give way, but I steady myself by gripping the back of the sofa. Clara? My best friend?

“No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “You’re lying.”

“Am I?” She pulls out her phone and taps the screen a few times before handing it to me. There, staring back at me, is a blurry but unmistakable photo of Liam and Clara, locked in a passionate embrace outside a hotel.

It feels like the ground beneath me has shattered.

My mother takes the phone back and places a hand on my shoulder. “You’re worth more than this, Val. Dante is a billionaire. A good man. He’ll treat you like a queen, not some option he can discard when something shinier comes along.”

I can’t hear her anymore. My mind is racing. Liam and Clara? How long has this been going on? Was every kind word, every laugh we shared, a lie?

“I need air,” I mutter, heading for the door.

“Sophia , this isn’t going away,” my mother calls after me. “You’re meeting Dante tomorrow. Like it or not, this is happening!”

I don’t respond. I slam the door behind me and walk down the dimly lit street, the cold November air biting at my skin.

Liam . Clara. And now Dante, this mystery billionaire I’m apparently destined to marry. My life feels like it’s spiraling out of control, and I have no idea how to stop it.

One thing is clear, though. Tomorrow, I’ll be meeting Dante . Not because I want to, but because I need to know what kind of man would agree to something this absurd.

But deep down, a tiny voice whispers that meeting him might not be the worst thing in the world.

And that terrifies me most of all.