𝐀𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐚'𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐯

The zipper of my dress trembles under my fingers as I pull it up.

A long-sleeved, floor-length black gown. Smooth fabric. Heavy enough to hide everything underneath. Exactly what I need.

My hair falls over my shoulders in loose waves. I make sure the strands cover my neck. I don’t want questions. I don’t want sympathy. I just want tonight to end.

A breath.

Another.

Then I step out of my room.

The Williams mansion sparkles more than usual. The main hall is bathed in golden lights, a giant chandelier glinting above the polished marble floor. Waiters move around with trays of champagne, and guests in glittering suits and gowns drift through the room as if this is the center of the world.

I stand quietly near the staircase—my usual place in events like these. Close enough to be seen. Far enough to be forgotten.

Then the doors open.

The Blackwood family enters with the kind of calm confidence that comes from old power. Viktor Blackwood walks with a steady authority, Sarah Blackwood with gentle poise.

And then him.

Alex.

My jaw tightens the moment our eyes meet.

I didn’t thank him that night.

Didn’t want to.

Didn’t know how.

He approaches me, expression unreadable.

“Williams.” he says.

“Blackwood.” I tilt my head slightly. “I never thanked you… for dropping me home that night.”

“You were barely conscious.” he replies quietly. “Someone had to.”

I tuck my hair forward again, just in case it moves. His gaze flicks to the gesture for a second, but he says nothing.

Before I can respond, laughter drifts from the far corner. I glance to see our parents—both his and mine—standing together, talking seriously, almost… warmly.

Strange.

They usually only exchange polite smiles.

I brush the thought away.

It’s probably business. Everything in this house is.

Dinner begins with the usual polished conversations. Guests compliment the décor, praise the food, ask about the company’s achievements. The clinking of cutlery blends with soft orchestral music.

I eat in silence, nodding when spoken to, keeping my posture straight the way my parents expect.

Then my father stands.

Ivan Williams lifts his champagne glass, voice loud enough to command the entire hall.

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention?”

The room quiets instantly.

A strange stillness spreads down my spine.

“As we celebrate the anniversary of Williams Corporation...” he begins, “I am proud to share news of a partnership that strengthens not only business ties, but family bonds.”

My stomach drops.

No.

No, he wouldn’t—

He smiles. A smile only I know is dangerous.

“In two months.” he announces, “my daughter, Aurora Williams… will marry Alex Blackwood.”

My breath stops.

The room erupts into applause.

Guests turn to look at me, smiling, congratulating.

I feel frozen in place—like the world moved forward and I stayed behind.

My fingers curl around the edge of the table. Hard.

Slowly… I force myself to look at Alex.

He isn’t smiling.

His expression is tightened, sharp, shocked—but controlled, the way he always is. A muscle in his jaw jumps, the only sign he hadn’t expected this either.

My heart pounds, loud and cold.

A forced marriage.

Announced without asking.

Without warning.

And there is suddenly no escape.

𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱'𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐯

The water hits my skin like cold needles.

I don’t bother turning the temperature up. I need clarity, not comfort.

The announcement keeps replaying in my head, word for word, like someone pressed it into my skull with a hot brand.

“My daughter… will marry Alex Blackwood.”

I shut my eyes.

My hands press against the tiles of the shower wall, jaw locked so tight it aches.

I wasn’t warned.

Not even a hint.

My parents… they knew.

They stood there smiling.

And I was expected to accept it with the same polite smile?

A humorless breath escapes me.

I don’t believe in love.

I don’t believe in marriage.

And definitely not a marriage forged like a business deal.

But what angers me more is that they made this decision without even asking.

As if my life is just a convenient piece on their chessboard.

I scrub my face with both hands.

Images flash behind my eyes—Aurora standing near the staircase earlier, her hair covering half her face, her posture stiff, guarded.

The way she kept adjusting her hair.

The way she flinched—just a little—when someone brushed past her.

And that turtleneck.

Always those damn high necklines.

Why does she hide her neck every time?

Why is she drowning herself in layers?

Why did she look… tired tonight? Tired in a way I’ve never seen in all these years of hating each other?

And why do I care?

I breathe out sharply, annoyed at my own thoughts.

I don’t know her life.

I don’t know what she hides under those sleeves and those heavy clothes.

But there’s something—something I’ve missed for years. Something her family hides behind their perfect smiles.

Something I saw that night I carried her to her house—

Her parents were too nice.

Too polished.

Too rehearsed.

It didn’t sit right with me then.

It sits even worse now.

The water finally warms, but I barely feel it. My mind is still dark, simmering.

Forced marriage.

Two months.

I don’t want this.

But I also can’t shake the thought:

What exactly is Aurora hiding… and why is she hiding it so desperately?

I turn off the water.

I step out.

My anger remains.

But now there is something else beneath it—a sharp, cold curiosity.

And I hate that most of all.

_________________________

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