2

Sloane's Pov

I let Lark gather her belongings in hurried silence. She moved quickly, stuffing clothes and a few small things into a bag, her hands shaking just enough to show she was more nervous than she wanted to admit.

When she was ready, she slipped out of the mansion under the cover of night, disappearing into the darkness without a sound.

I stood there for a long moment after the door closed behind her and let out a deep breath.

The house felt heavier somehow. I could only hope this would not backfire on me.

I went back to the small room where I always slept.

It was not just small, it was cramped, with a narrow bed that creaked if I turned the wrong way and furniture so cheap it looked like it had been bought as an afterthought. Everything about it felt temporary and unworthy, a constant reminder of my place in the house. All thanks to my parents.

They never treated me like their daughter. I was more like a maid who happened to share their blood.

I had been doing all the chores since I was thirteen. Even when I was still attending college, they would never let me leave the mansion until every floor was sparkling clean, every surface dusted, every dish put away.

Sometimes I wondered what I had ever done to deserve it. What crime I must have committed in another life to be the one they could overlook so easily.

With all of that turning over in my mind, I finally slept.

The next morning, while I was still deep in sleep, warm water was poured over my face to wake me up. It burned for a second, the heat sharp against my skin, but the pain was bearable. They had done worse to hurt me before.

I opened my eyes to find my mother, Mavis, glaring down at me with open hatred. At that moment I truly wondered if she was really my mother or just some cold-eyed impostor wearing her face.

“Where is your sister?!” she yelled, her voice sharp enough to cut.

“I don’t… I don’t know.” My voice trembled no matter how hard I tried to keep it steady.

“She was with you last night! Look at the time and she’s nowhere to be found. Do you know the Thorne family is waiting for us?!”

“I… I…”

She grabbed me by the hair and dragged me up from the bed, then out of the room and down the hall toward Lark’s bedroom. My scalp stung with every step.

My father, Calder, was already inside. The moment we entered he threw a hard slap across my face. My cheek burned instantly.

Fuck, it hurt but I controlled the tears that threatened to rise. I raised my head and looked at him. He answered with another slap, just as hard, the sound cracking through the room.

“You knew how important this marriage was to us and you couldn’t even monitor your sister!” he yelled, his face dark with anger.

I clenched my teeth, forcing myself to stay quiet, to keep whatever was rising in my chest from spilling out.

“You’re just so useless!” my mother shouted from behind me.

Something inside me snapped. “If you knew I was useless, why did you give birth to me then?!”

She raised her hand as if to strike me, but stopped mid-air, her eyes cold and furious.

My father spoke next, his voice low and final. “Since you are useless, let me make you useful.”

I already knew what he was going to say. Of course I did. He was going to tell me to marry Kaelan in Lark’s place.

“You will take your sister’s place until your sister is found,” he said.

I swallowed hard, the sound loud in my own ears.

“Where on earth is my daughter?!” Mavis cried, her voice breaking into something almost desperate.

“I’ll make sure my men find her,” Calder answered, already turning away. “And until then, you can take her place.” He walked out of the room without another glance.

I stood there for a moment longer, then walked to the bathroom to take my bath.

Finally, after the wedding, I would be free or maybe that's what I thought.

I got dressed after my bath. The gown was already waiting, heavy and formal, the fabric cool against my skin.

The makeup artist worked quickly, her brushes moving with practiced speed as she covered the faint marks on my face and smoothed everything into something presentable. When she finished, she lifted the veil and settled it over my head, the thick lace falling forward until the world became soft and blurred.

I followed her out of the room. My mother walked beside me in silence, her grip firm on my arm as she guided me toward the altar.

“We sold you to him already, so don’t you dare come back to us later.” My mom whispered to me.

I said nothing, they sold me of course, a part of me thought they will never agree to get me married to Kaelan, that they will make sure they find their daughter. But as usual, I was the spare daughter.

The hall was full of people I barely recognized, the air thick with the scent of flowers and quiet expectation.

Kaelan stood at the front, dressed in a dark suit that fit him perfectly. His expression was cold and distant, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond me as if he were already somewhere else entirely.

We both sat down. Someone placed the marriage certificate in front of us. I signed my name where they told me to. He signed without looking at me.

Then the priest faced us and spoke.

“Sloane Vex, will you take Kaelan Thorne as your lawfully wedded husband?”

I used to imagine getting married to the man I loved—someone who chose me, someone whose eyes softened when they looked at me. Not the man my parents had pushed me toward just to settle a debt or the man I had to marry just to free myself.

“I do,” I replied. All my thoughts didn’t matter anymore.

“Kaelan Thorne, do you take Sloane Vex as your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do.” His voice was cold, flat, stripped of anything that might have sounded like feeling.

Then he stood up and walked out of the hall without another word, his steps sharp with anger.

He must have been furious. He didn’t marry Lark. Any man in his position would have been more than angry.

He didn’t wait for me. My parents pushed me toward my new in-laws like a sold slave, their hands firm on my back, their faces carefully arranged into polite smiles for the watching crowd.

I endured the pain of it and followed them to the car, the veil still covering my face, the weight of the day pressing down on my shoulders.

That midnight, I was in a bedroom that wasn’t mine.

The darkness felt thicker here, heavier somehow, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath.

I stood near the edge of the bed wearing a white wedding nightie so transparent it barely deserved the name.

The thin fabric clung to every curve, the hard points of my nipples clearly visible even in the low light, the hem brushing the tops of my bare thighs.

Nothing underneath. Not even a scrap of lace.

My skin prickled with awareness, every soft shift of the nightie against me feeling far too intimate for a room that still smelled faintly of polished wood and unfamiliar cologne.

The door creaked open with a soft click, and the lights flared on, flooding the room in sudden brightness.

I squinted against it.

Kaelan Thorne stepped inside, his dark hair slightly disordered, his tie loosened and hanging crooked around his neck.

The top buttons of his white shirt were undone, revealing a strip of tanned skin and the faint shadow of his collarbone.

He staggered once as he moved toward me, the motion unsteady but purposeful, like a man who had been drinking steadily all evening and no longer cared who noticed.

The sharp, expensive scent of whiskey reached me first.

I had to stand up quickly with the same quiet obedience that had carried me through the entire day.

But he was faster than I thought.

In three long strides he closed the distance, one strong arm snaking around my waist and yanking me hard against him.

His mouth landed on the side of my neck—hot, open, wet. He kissed my neck with deliberate pressure, lips parting, tongue tasting the skin just beneath my ear.