The lights of the Grand Marlowe Hotel glittered like diamonds scattered across velvet skies. My reflection in the mirrored elevator doors looked nothing like me—red satin clung to my frame, my hair swept up in curls that framed a face too calm for the storm brewing inside.
Tonight was supposed to be a charity gala. At least, that's what Father had told me. But my gut twisted as the car door opened and flashes of cameras blinded me. Paparazzi? For a simple gala? Something wasn't right.
Alexander King's hand brushed against mine as we walked up the red carpet, and I nearly flinched. His touch was steady, grounding, as though he knew what I didn't. His sharp jaw and expressionless eyes made him look untouchable. The world saw a man in control. I saw the stranger who was about to upend my life.
Inside, chandeliers spilled golden light over the ballroom. The sound of champagne glasses clinking mixed with the hum of gossip. I tried to keep my breathing even, but the prickle on the back of my neck told me I was about to be ambushed.
"Elena Hart," my father's voice boomed across the room as he clinked a glass. My stomach dropped. His politician's smile was plastered wide, charming the crowd. "And Alexander King. Tonight, two families become one."
My blood ran cold.
Applause. Cheers. Whispers.
"What—what is he talking about?" I whispered, turning to Alexander.
His jaw tightened. "Don't make a scene."
"What?" My voice cracked. "You knew?"
Before I could press further, a velvet box appeared in his hand, as if conjured by the universe to seal my fate. My chest tightened as he opened it. Inside, a diamond glittered so brightly it mocked me.
"Elena Hart," Alexander's voice rolled over the crowd, deep, steady, confident. Not a proposal. A statement. "Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"
The crowd erupted. Phones flashed. People clapped like this was a fairytale. But my lungs felt like they were caving in. I looked across where my mom stood, half expecting she would save me. But, she smiled at me and my stomach curled in on itself even more.
The King's also stood still, clapping and smiling not with amusement but as though with victory. I felt helpless. I have been trapped and there was no escape route for me. Not with cameras and the city's top billionaires, business tycoons and politicians present in the room moping at me and King. The news will go far and wide and everybody will know I'm now engaged to Alexander King just two weeks after Damien Callahan left me at the altar. My heart was clawing for breath beneath all the things crashing down on it.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. But my father's gaze bore into me, cold and commanding. A refusal here wouldn't just embarrass him, it would ruin him.
My hand trembled. Alexander didn't give me a choice. He slid the ring onto my finger as though I had said yes. His lips curved, not in joy, but in triumph.
The room spun. I forced a smile so fake it hurt my face.
When the applause died down and people swarmed us with congratulations, Alexander leaned down, his breath brushing my ear.
"Congratulations, fiancée," he murmured. His tone wasn't tender. It was a warning.
I turned to him, heart racing, rage and disbelief clawing at my throat. "I never agreed to this."
His eyes darkened, trapping me in a storm I wasn't ready for. "You will."