Chapter 2

Soon after, the car slowed to a stop in front of the estate gates. The iron bars parted without a sound, as if even they knew who was arriving. One of the uniformed guards quickly moved to my side and opened the SUV door.

I stepped out, brushing down the soft folds of my dress as my heels touched the white marble driveway. The air smelled like cut grass.

Before me stood the Montgomery estate—an elegant, sprawling mansion that had belonged to my grandfather before my father. Cream stone walls, tall white columns, and endless arched windows.

It is the same as always, but today… something felt different.

I frowned. There were too many cars parked in the driveway—sleek black ones with tinted windows. More guards than usual stood by the door, stiff and alert. Tension clung to the air. A knot formed in my stomach.

“What’s going on?” I asked, turning to Lucia as she stepped out behind me.

She adjusted her blazer but didn’t hide her own confusion. “I… I’m not sure. I wasn’t informed of any meeting.”

I didn’t like that answer. Still, I walked forward. The front doors opened before I reached them, and two house staff members gave slight bows as they ushered me inside.

“Please proceed to the main salon, ma’am,” one of them said quietly.

I nodded once and made my way down the hallway, the familiar sound of my heels echoing against polished floors and high ceilings. Every inch of the mansion was designed to impress: crystal chandeliers, gold-trimmed mirrors, fresh white orchids on marble pedestals. Everything clean and spotless. And yet, I could feel it—that subtle shift in the air.

I was led straight to the massive living room—a space so large it felt like its own ballroom. Floor-to-ceiling windows giving a warm light onto the glossy floors, and portraits of past Montgomerys loomed from the walls. I stepped in, spine straightening out of habit.

As I stepped into the living room, I was instantly greeted by my father.

Victor Montgomery, the beloved mayor of Rosehill. His black suit was flawless, tie perfectly knotted, and his salt-and-pepper hair combed with just enough mess to seem relatable. But his eyes—always reminded me that even I was just another part of his strategy.

Beside him stood my mother, Celeste Montgomery, in her usual tailored ivory dress and pearl earrings, her golden hair swept into a soft chignon. Her beauty had always been a weapon. She greeted me with an alarming sweetness, her voice unusually light.

“There she is,” she said with a softness that didn’t match the coldness in her eyes. “Our lovely daughter.”

Even my older siblings were present—Von and Venice.

Venice looked away almost immediately, her expression unreadable beneath layers of makeup. Von, ever the family’s golden son, stood stiffly with his hands behind his back, expression blank. His gaze flickered toward me but held no warmth—just silent obedience to whatever decision had already been made.

I smiled cautiously, my hands folding in front of me. The sweetness of my parents—their sudden warmth—terrified me. I knew this family. Kindness only came before sacrifice. When they smiled like this, something awful was about to happen.

“What is happening?” I couldn’t help but asked, my voice quiet, guarded.

My father stepped closer and placed a hand on my back, leaning in slightly.

“Just behave, Lorelie,” he whispered with a smile still plastered on his face.

Before I could speak again, I felt a sharp pressure on my arm—my mother’s fingers, squeezing painfully, just enough to remind me who I belonged to.

Then—a voice I hadn’t heard yet rang out.

“Well. She’s just as poised as they said.”

I turned my head—and froze. Standing across the room was a woman I hadn’t noticed before, though she had clearly been watching me the whole time. She was dressed in a deep emerald suit, tailored to perfection, with a brooch shaped like a raven pinned over her heart. Her dark hair was pulled back into a smooth twist, and her skin, though aged, radiated the kind of power that came from generations of control.

Sylvia Kingston. The governor’s mother.

Her presence sucked the air from the room. There was nothing warm about her—only elegance sharpened into intimidation. Her gaze was piercing, her smile thin. I know too well the way she looked at me. She looked at me not as a person, but as a piece of property she was about to appraise.

And just like that, I understood. I wasn’t just Lorelie Montgomery today. I was a pawn being moved across the board—again.

Sylvia Kingston extended a hand toward me with the kind of smile that didn't reach her eyes.

“Lorelie,” she said smoothly, “It’s lovely to finally meet you. You’re even more graceful in person.”

I took her hand briefly, noting how cold her fingers were—delicate and still, like they’d never lifted anything heavier than a wine glass, yet sharp enough to slice through air with a single gesture.

The sweetness was fake. All of it. I could see it in her gaze. She wasn't greeting me—she was measuring me.

Lucia motioned for me to sit, and I lowered myself onto the velvet couch without a word, smoothing the skirt of my dress. The others followed, taking their seats like actors returning to a stage they’d rehearsed on too many times.

“Your poise is remarkable. And I’ve seen your work with the orphanage, the foundation. Admirable, really. You’ve done your family proud.”

“She’s always supported us,” my father chimed in, as if I wasn’t sitting right there. “Even when she was overseas. Always presented herself exactly as a Montgomery should.”

“She’s perfect for this,” my mother added, her smile wide and eyes narrowed with unspoken pressure.

They spoke about me as if I were a project. A polished product. Not a living, breathing woman in front of them.

And then it came.

“We’ve finalized the agreement,” Sylvia said, her tone clipped, businesslike. “Lorelie is to be married to my son, Sebastian Kingston. The announcement will be released next week.”

The words echoed in the silence. I blinked.

“What?” I said, too fast.

My heart slammed in my chest. I looked around—at my father, my mother, Von, Venice—no one looked surprised. No one even looked at me.