Chapter 2

Seconds later, Eric called.

I didn't pick up. He called three times in a row.

Finally, he sent several voice messages.

"Emma Perrin, have you lost your mind?

"You know Tristan and I don't get along.

"He won't propose.

"Do you really want to humiliate yourself?"

I was so angry I laughed. I didn't bother answering.

Hank couldn't resist stirring up more trouble in the group chat.

He announced that, proposal or not, Tristan would have to play couples' games with me.

Holding hands.

Hugging.

Feeding each other cake.

Someone in the chat warned Hank, "Don't stir things up. She's an aristocrat."

But Eric didn't care. "It's settled.

"Tristan said nothing, so that means he agrees.

"Thanks to him, I'll get to see Handsome and the Beast at my birthday party."

He was saying it on purpose.

But Tristan never replied.

His profile picture was solid black, and his bio was completely blank.

Even Eric seemed a little afraid of him.

He had no trouble mocking me, but he didn't dare push his brother for an answer.

Suddenly, the whole thing felt ridiculous.

The Perrin family might have been in decline, but we still controlled plenty of mines and plantations overseas.

Eric knew perfectly well what humiliating me could cost him.

He did it anyway, counting on me to forgive him.

Even if I tried to make a big deal out of it, he could simply delete the group chat, leaving me humiliated and the Perrin name disgraced.

Just then, someone knocked on my door.

My mother paused when she saw me standing before a row of gowns.

She hesitated for a few seconds. "Are you really going to Eric's birthday party by yourself tomorrow?

"I know it's a party for young people. I've seen the plans.

"But the Don is going so he can meet you. He'll want to know who you're choosing."

I looked at my mother.

No one in my family wanted me to marry into the mafia less than she did.

She was also the one who had always been there for me.

For Eric, I had spent two years losing weight.

At my worst, I ate nothing but a few lettuce leaves a day and lay awake at night with hunger cramps.

Then I fainted at home. My mother hired a nutritionist, who made me stop starving myself.

That was when I began cutting back on sugar and lifting weights.

In two years, I went from 220 pounds to 109.

My father only ever made cutting remarks.

My mother, on the other hand, was there for me every time I dropped a dress size—all seven of them.

At some point, she learned about Eric and how he had been there for me.

Her first reaction was to cry.

More than anyone, she wanted someone to treat me well.

She prayed that Eric would protect me in that dangerous world.

But she didn't know.

The man she'd pinned her hopes on was the very person who had tried to hurt me.

My mother hugged me.

"Emma, we will have everything ready for you.

"You'll always be my baby. As long as you're happy, I'm happy."

As soon as the door closed, tears stung my eyes.

Right then, my phone buzzed.

Tristan finally replied in the group chat.

He ignored their taunts and wrote, "She's not a bet."

The chat went silent.

A few seconds later, he tagged me. "You don't have to come tomorrow. I'll explain to my father."

Eric shot back, "Come on, Tristan. You're making me look bad here!"

Eric was the son of the Don's lover.

After she died, the Don took Eric home.

People said Tristan had never had much to say to his brother.

Sure enough, he didn't reply again.

I stared at his words. "She's not a bet."

Without thinking, I touched the little donut earrings in my ears.

His short, clipped way of speaking reminded me of someone else.

Three years earlier, while studying abroad, I'd had one friend. The only friend I'd ever had.

Then Eric's call cut the memory short.