EMILIA It's the day of my wedding.

I sit before the mirror, staring at my reflection, my bridal gown glistening under the soft light. I should feel joy, excitement—but all I feel is dread. My stomach twists. My hands tremble as I grip the edge of the vanity.

I can't believe this is happening. I'm marrying Kevin Ashbourne.

Kevin Ashbourne. The name feels bitter on my tongue. Not long ago, I might have been thrilled. Two years ago, I wanted him—I dreamed of this day. But now? Now, I feel nothing but disgust.

I'm not marrying him for love. I'm marrying him because my family is drowning. Because we're desperate.

Because of her.

Aveline.

I grit my teeth as her name flashes through my mind. This is her fault. If it weren't for her, my family wouldn't be in this mess. We wouldn't have had to pay her that enormous sum of gold. We wouldn't have crumbled under the weight of her demands.

And I wouldn't be here, preparing to marry Kevin Ashbourne just so his family can save us.

What a cruel irony. A few years ago, I would have been ecstatic to become his bride. Back then, he was charming, desirable—the perfect catch. Now, all I see is the man he's become: a womanizer. A playboy. A shame.

The thought of it makes me sick. My hands ball into fists, my nails digging into my palms. It's humiliating. Knowing my husband has been with so many women before me shatters whatever pride I have left. How could Mother agree to this? How could she sell me off like this?

I glance at my reflection again, at the flawless beauty staring back at me. My beauty feels wasted. My dignity feels crushed.

This marriage isn't just about saving our family. It's about sacrificing me.

I hate this. I hate him. I hate her.

***

AVELINE To think Kevin Ashbourne actually invited me to his wedding—it's almost comical. I can't decide if it's arrogance or stupidity. Perhaps both.

The Ashbourne estate hall is undeniably impressive, with its sprawling ceilings and ornate decorations. The chandeliers above glitter like the stars they'll never touch, and the air smells faintly of roses and excess. I wander through the crowd, mocktail in hand, pretending to admire the grandeur. The drink, I admit, is surprisingly good—sweet with a tangy edge. At least they did something right.

It's hard not to let my gaze linger on the extravagance around me. The Ashbournes clearly want everyone to know how rich they are. Their estate dwarfs the Thornes', a fact I'm sure Baroness Diana noticed the moment she agreed to this arrangement. A bouquet made of actual gold rests in the bride's hands. How quaint. Are they trying to show off, or is this just their version of tasteful?

I sip my drink, suppressing a laugh. I can't help but think about Emilia, forced into this spectacle. Baroness Diana was never subtle, and I'm sure she didn't hesitate to sell her daughter off the moment their coffers began to run dry. Desperation clings to them like cheap perfume. And Kevin—well, what better match than the empire's most notorious playboy?

Kevin Ashbourne, forever the center of rumors, always saved by his father's influence. It's almost poetic. Two spoiled brats relying on their parents to clean up their messes. They suit each other perfectly.

I glance across the hall, where Kevin and Emilia sit at the wedding dais. He's basking in the attention, his grin as wide and obnoxious as ever. Emilia, on the other hand, looks like she's choking on her own misery. Her smile is tight, her knuckles white as they clutch that ridiculous bouquet.

My feet move before I've made a conscious decision, and soon I'm standing before them. The chatter around me fades as I speak.

"Congratulations, Lady Thorne and Young Lord Ashbourne," I say, my voice smooth, the edges sharpened just enough. "May your marriage last long."

Kevin's laughter bursts out, loud and theatrical, as if he's trying to fill the hall with his ego. "Oh, hahaha, what an honor to receive a blessing from Lady Lytheryss! Thank you, thank you!"

Emilia doesn't say a word. She only smiles, but it's so brittle I wonder if it might crack under the weight of her resentment. She won't meet my eyes, but I can feel her anger. It burns between us, hot and silent.

Satisfied, I give them a small, polite nod before turning away. The smirk on my lips grows as I weave back into the crowd. Let them stew in their discomfort. After all, I didn't even have to try to steal the spotlight.

Sometimes, all it takes is showing up.

***

EMILIA The night stretches heavy around me, suffocating in its silence. My wedding night. I sit stiffly in the room that they've assigned to me, my eyes scanning every inch of it.

It's small. Too small.

This room—it's nothing like the one I had at Thorne. At home, my room overlooked the gardens, where sunlight would filter in every morning. I'd watch the blooms sway in the breeze, the colors painting my mornings in warmth. Here? There's no window. Not even a sliver of light to break the dull monotony of these beige walls.

My chest tightens with frustration. The bed feels too firm, the air too stale. This place isn't a home—it's a cage.

Where is Kevin?

The clock ticks louder with every passing second, grating on my nerves. He should be here by now, shouldn't he? It's our wedding night. Isn't he supposed to—

The door creaks open, breaking my thoughts.

I glance up, my heart quickening involuntarily. It's him. Finally.

"Hi, Emilia," Kevin says, stepping inside like he owns the world.

I narrow my eyes at him. "About time," I say, my voice sharper than I intended.

His smirk widens, lazy and smug, as if he finds my irritation amusing. "What, you were waiting for me?"

The way he says it makes my stomach churn. "What do you mean?" I snap, trying to mask my unease.

He doesn't bother answering. Instead, he strolls over to the table and places something on it with a thud. I stare at the object—a massive stack of money. The weight of it is almost tangible.

"What is this?" I ask, my voice low but laced with suspicion. "Is it for me? Or my family?"

Kevin shrugs casually, as though it's nothing. "That's for you. Five hundred thousand ducats. The Ashbournes will give you this much every month." He pauses, letting the words sink in, before adding, "Consider it an advance payment."

An advance? My chest tightens again, but this time, it's with unease. "An advance payment? What do you mean by that?"

His hand waves dismissively, like he's shooing away my concerns. "You'll understand later," he says, already turning toward the door. "Anyway, goodnight. Have a good rest."

"What?" My voice rises as I stand abruptly. "Where are you going?"

He stops, glancing back at me with mild irritation. "To my room. Where else?"

"Your room?" My brows knit together, confusion swirling in my mind. "Isn't this your room?"

Kevin laughs, but there's no warmth in it. It's sharp, cutting, and it grates against my already frayed nerves. "No, this is the guest room. Anyway, bye."

The door clicks shut behind him before I can say anything else.

I'm left standing in the middle of the room, staring at the door, my hands trembling.

The guest room? That's why it felt so small, so dull. But why am I here? Shouldn't I be in his room? Isn't that how a marriage works?

And then it hits me, sharp and cruel.

The money. Is this why he gave it to me? To make up for this humiliation? To pacify me? Is this what the Ashbournes do—hand out money to silence the women Kevin discards?

My stomach turns as realization sinks deeper.

I sit back down, my fingers gripping the edge of the chair. The air feels heavier now, pressing down on my chest. This isn't a marriage. This is a transaction.

Damn him. Damn this family. Damn this life.