The air was thick with tension within the Luxveil mansion as Selena stood before her vanity, gazing reluctantly at her reflection.
The sunlight filtering through the ornate drapes cast a warm glow across her features, highlighting the subtle contours of her face, yet this beauty felt like a stranger to her—an illusion that adorned the shell of her identity.
"Get ready," her father had commanded earlier, his tone heavy and uncompromising.
"We are visiting Young Master Leo, and you must look the part."
The very idea of conforming to another's expectations filled her with disdain.
Dressing in a seductive outfit was a bittersweet irony—she had always been the refined, reserved daughter of nobility, polished and poised, yet never once handed over to the whims of seduction.
The vivid memory of her father's expression haunted her—his urgency laced with desperation, the weight of their family's reputation resting upon her shoulders like an unbearable shroud.
