The corridors of the Rivers' mansion had always felt long and lonely to Lillian. The walls were adorned with expensive art, the kind chosen for prestige rather than love, and the scent of polish clung stubbornly to the air. Walking them made her feel like a guest in her own home.
That afternoon, she wandered quietly, a book tucked under her arm. She had spent the morning in the garden, but even the roses could not silence the growing unease curling in her stomach.
As she turned toward the east hall, faint voices drifted from her stepmother's drawing room. The door was half-closed. Lillian paused, instinct telling her to keep walking, but her feet stilled. Something in Celeste's sharp tone pulled her in.
"…we cannot delay any longer," Celeste was saying. "The company is bleeding dry. If we don't secure support, your father will be a beggar before the season ends."
Camilla's lighter, mocking laugh followed. "And your brilliant solution is still that cold, terrifying CEO? Mother, you've heard the rumors. They say he ruined his last business partner. That he doesn't smile, doesn't feel. That he's dangerous."
"Dangerous?" Celeste's scoff was laced with amusement. "Only to his enemies. But to have a man like that on our side? It's salvation. His power stretches far beyond this city. Money, connections, influence—he is untouchable. And men like him always want something in return."
Lillian's heart hammered. She pressed closer to the door, straining to hear.
Camilla's voice lowered, almost gleeful. "And what exactly will we offer him? We have no company shares left worth trading."
A pause. Then Celeste's words fell like knives. "We offer him her."
Silence thundered in Lillian's ears. Her knees weakened, and she nearly dropped her book. Her? Me?
Camilla gasped. "You can't be serious! Lillian? Mother, no! You can't be suggesting—"
"Why not?" Celeste's tone was icy, calculated. "She is of age. She has no dowry, no prospects, nothing to her name. She's been nothing but a burden since her mother died. But as a bargaining chip? She might finally be useful."
"Useful?" Camilla's voice dripped disbelief. "You'd give her to that man? People say he doesn't even have a heart."
Celeste's reply was calm, chilling. "He doesn't need a heart. He only needs a wife. A quiet, obedient wife who won't get in the way of business. And Lillian fits that role perfectly. Do you think she'd even dare to refuse? She owes this family her very life."
Lillian staggered back, her breath caught in her throat. A cold sweat broke out across her skin. They… they want to give me away? To him?
Her steps faltered as she turned, clutching her book tightly to her chest, retreating down the hall before they could hear her.
She didn't know how long she wandered before she found herself outside the mansion's gates. The city stretched before her, bustling with life, but she felt small, invisible among it all. Her feet carried her toward a familiar street, toward the only person she trusted.
---
The little café smelled of fresh bread and roasted coffee beans. Its windows gleamed, and potted plants lined the corners. It was ordinary, warm, and safe.
Sitting near the window was Clara Hart, Lillian's childhood friend. With chestnut hair tied loosely and a soft smile lighting her face, Clara had always been Lillian's anchor. Since the day her mother died, Clara had been the only one she could cry to, laugh with, and trust completely.
"Lily!" Clara stood as soon as she spotted her, waving her over. "You look pale—what happened?"
Lillian sank into the seat across from her, her hands trembling around the book she carried. For a long moment, she couldn't speak.
Clara reached out, covering her hands. "Lily, breathe. You're scaring me."
Finally, the words spilled out. "They… they want to marry me off."
Clara blinked, stunned. "What? To who?"
Lillian shook her head. "I don't know everything. I overheard them. They said… the richest CEO. They called him cold. Dangerous. They're offering me like I'm nothing but…" Her voice broke, tears welling. "Like I'm a tool to save my father's company."
For a moment, Clara was silent, absorbing her words. Then her jaw tightened, eyes flashing with protective fire. "Those vultures. How dare they treat you like that?"
Lillian bit her lip, her voice trembling. "But if Father agrees… I can't disobey him. He's all I have left."
Clara squeezed her hands tighter. "Listen to me, Lily. You are not worthless. You're not just some pawn for their games. And maybe… maybe this man isn't what they say. Rumors twist everything. Rich, powerful men always have enemies. Maybe he's not as cruel as they make him sound."
Lillian gave a watery laugh. "Clara, you make it sound like a fairy tale."
"Why not?" Clara tilted her head, smiling softly. "You're beautiful. Gentle. If he has any heart at all, he'll notice. Maybe he'll even fall for you."
Lillian's cheeks warmed, though she quickly shook her head. "You always try to give me hope."
"Because someone has to," Clara replied firmly. "You've carried too much pain on your own. Let me carry a little with you."
Something in her voice soothed the storm raging inside Lillian. She leaned against Clara's shoulder, closing her eyes. "I don't know what to do."
"Then don't decide yet," Clara whispered. "Take it one step at a time. And remember—you still have me. Always."
For the first time that day, Lillian felt a flicker of calm.
---
Back at the mansion, Celeste sat in her drawing room, sipping tea as Camilla paced.
"I still think this is madness," Camilla muttered. "What if he doesn't even want her?"
Celeste's lips curved in a chilling smile. "Oh, he'll want her. Men like him always take interest in fragile little things like Lillian. And once he does… our family will rise again."
Her eyes glinted with satisfaction, unaware that her words had already reached the very girl she plotted to sacrifice.
And upstairs in her room, Lillian clutched her mother's book to her chest, praying Clara was right—that maybe, just maybe, the man wasn't as heartless as everyone claimed.
But in her heart, dread whispered otherwise.