Livia's POV…..
When we got to the boutique I gasped.
It was everything I expected and somehow worse.
Bright lights everywhere and endless racks of white dresses that gave me the ick.
I stood at the center of it all, feeling completely out of place.
"Stand straight," Ivory muttered behind me, she murmured something under her breath about slouching and I ignored her.
"You look like you're attending a funeral, not your wedding."
News flash step mother it's because I was!!
But I didn't respond, what was there to say?
This was a funeral just not the kind people wore black to.
Clara walked past me, her heels clicking loudly against the floor as she scanned the dresses with a bored expression.
"Honestly, I don't know why we're bothering with something so expensive," she said.
"It's not like anyone important is going to be paying attention to her."
I swallowed, my fingers tightening around the fabric of my sleeve.
"Still," ivory added, her lips curling slightly,
"we can't have the Virelli name looking cheap. Even if the bride is… basic."
Basic, I scoffed coming from someone with more than 10plastic surgeries.
"Miss Virelli?" a petite stylist approached us with a polite smile, her eyes flicking briefly between the three of us as if trying to assess the tension in the air.
"We've prepared a few options for you to try on."
Before I could respond, Clara stepped forward.
"I'll pick them," she said smoothly. "Trust me, she needs all the help she can get."
Ivory nodded in approval.
I stayed silent cause it was easier that way.
The first dress I tried on was too tight.
The stylist zipped it up carefully, stepping back to admire her work, but Clara's expression twisted almost immediately.
"It clings to her waist," she said, wrinkling her nose. "It's Unflattering."
"I think it fits her quite well—" the stylist began gently.
"It doesn't," Ivory cut in. "Take it off."
I stared at my reflection, the dress wasn't bad.
In fact, for a moment, I almost thought I looked… nice.
But the way they said it was the way they always s
made me feel like I was something that needed fixing.
"Next," Clara said impatiently.
The second dress was worse.
Too loose this time, the fabric was swallowing me in layers of lace and satin.
Clara circled me looking closely at the dress.
"She looks like a curtain," she said flatly.
My stepmother didn't even try to hide her disappointment. "Hopeless."
Heat rose to my cheeks i clenched my hands together,my nails pressing into my palms.
"Try something with structure," Clara continued, already turning away. "Though I doubt it'll make much difference."
I wanted to stab her with something.
Calm down Livia no violent thoughts.
I tried on the third dress, then the fourth and then the fifth.
Each one came with its own set of criticisms.
Too plain, too heavy, too revealing .
Not elegant enough.
Not good enough.
I wasn't good enough.
By the time I stepped out of the fitting room again, I felt numb.
The stylist hesitated before handing me the next dress.
"This one is… different," she said softly, almost like she was trying to offer me something, anything different from the remarks of ivory and Clara.
I nodded, taking it from her without a word.
Inside the fitting room, I let out a slow breath.
My reflection stared back at me from the mirror, grey tired eyes and a pale face, the faint trace of dried tears were still visible if you looked closely enough.
For a second, I just stood there watching myself then I changed into the dress.
When I stepped out again, the room went silent
I looked at myself in the mirror the dress was simple, no excessive lace and ugly layers.
It fit me perfectly .
The Soft fabric outlined my figure without clinging too tightly to it, the neckline was elegant and the design was clean and effortless. It didn't try to turn me into someone else.
It was just me….
I smiled at the stylist and she smiled back
Clara tilted her head slightly. "It's… acceptable."
My stepmother nodded after a moment.
"It will do."
That was the closest thing to approval I was going to get.
I lowered my gaze. "Then I'll take this one."
The stylist smiled, relief flickering across her face. "Excellent choice."
She packed it into a bag and gave it to me, we walked out of the boutique and back into the car.
The ride home was quiet.
Clara scrolled through her phone the entire time, completely bored as usual while ivory occasionally reminded me of things I needed to remember for the wedding.
"Don't embarrass us."
"Stand properly."
"Smile when necessary."
I stared out the window, watching the city blur past us
Tomorrow.
The word echoed in my mind repeatedly like an alarm.
Tomorrow, I would be married.
Tomorrow, my life would change.
And there was nothing I could do about it.
We got home soon and my room felt colder than usual when I stepped inside.
Or maybe it was just me.
I closed the door behind me and leaned against it for a moment, letting the silence of the room calm me down.
Then,I walked over to my desk and opened my laptop.
If I was going to marry this man… i needed to know something about him.
Anything at all.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a second before I typed his name.
Lucian Kingsley.
Search.
The results loaded almost instantly.
Articles about Kingsley Enterprises, business headlines.
Photos of events, meetings, corporate announcements.
But none of them were about him.
Not really.
I clicked on one link after another, scrolling through pages and pages of information, but it was all the same.
Mentions of his name, References to his position but nothing personal.
No interviews, no recent photos or real details.
It was like he didn't exist, a chill ran down my spine.
How was that even possible?
He was a billionaire.
An heir to one of the most powerful companies in the country.
And yet… nothing about him was online.
I leaned back slightly, staring at the screen.
"Blind… crippled and hidden…"
The words from earlier echoed in my mind.
Maybe that was why he had been kept away from the public.
Or maybe there was more to it.
I shook my head quickly, pushing the thought away.
It didn't matter, none of it mattered, whether he was kind or cruel.
In the end… i was still being forced into this.
A knock on the door pulled me out of my thoughts.
Before I could respond, it opened.
My stepmother stepped inside
"You should sleep early tonight," she said. "We have a long day tomorrow."
I nodded faintly. "Okay."
She studied me for a moment, as if making sure I wasn't going to argue.
Then she turned and left.
The door clicked shut behind her.
I changed into my nightclothes slowly, my movements were automatic everything felt distant and unreal.
As if I were watching someone else's life instead of living my own.
When I finally lay down on the bed, I stared up at the ceiling, my mind refusing to go quiet.
I turned onto my side, pulling the blanket closer around me.
What would he be like?
Would he be kind?
Would he hate me for being forced into his life just as much as I hated being forced into his?
Would he even care?
A lump formed in my throat i didn't know, i didn't know anything and that was the worst part.
My eyes burned as tears slowly gathered again, slipping silently down my cheeks into the pillow.
I didn't bother wiping them away this time.
There was no point.
My fingers tightened slightly against the fabric of the blanket.
"…I don't want this," I whispered into the darkness.
But the room didn't answer.
It never did.
Eventually, exhaustion pulled at me, dragging me under despite the storm in my chest.
*****