The wardrobe handlers my father sent didn’t speak. They moved around my childhood bedroom like silent robots, laying out a heavy black silk evening gown across the mattress. It looked like an elegant shroud I can’t deny that truth.Regina stood by the door, her arms folded, watching me with an expressionless gaze as I sat unmoving on the edge of the bed. "Put it on," Regina said, nodding toward the dress. "Roman’s security detail is already in the driveway. Victor isn't going to ask you again." I didn't look at her. "And if I say no?" "Then the handlers will dress you themselves, Amaya. Don't make this more humiliating than it needs to be. It’s just a dinner."“Since when did you become my father’s lapdog?”“How dare you?!”“Be silent, Regina. This isn’t your domain anymore”I stood up slowly, my limbs stiff, and let the handlers dress me. The fabric of the black gown was cold against my skin. They zipped it up, tightened the waist, and pinned my dark hair back. Regina
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