AUTHOR POV:

Roman clenched his fists at Mikhail’s remark, humiliation coursing through him like a poison. He wanted to fire back a sharp retort, but the icy glare from Anya silenced him. It was a warning—a promise that she would not hesitate to strip him of the last remnants of dignity he clung to.

The room fell silent, save for the clinking of forks against plates and the muffled sounds of chewing.

---

ANYA POV:

An awkward silence enveloped the room, thick and oppressive. No one spoke; everyone’s gaze was glued to their plates, as if searching for answers to life’s greatest mysteries in the food before them. Everyone, that is, except for Mikhail. His eyes were fixed on me, a silent and penetrating examination. I could feel him trying to unravel the enigma of who I was and where I came from.

The irony of the situation made me want to laugh. Just a week ago, these same people had threatened us, demanding money with frosty glares and menacing tones. Now, they feigned warmth and kindness, their voices soft and smiles nearly convincing. Did they think I had forgotten? Or were they simply so skilled at pretending that they believed their own lies? The whole charade was almost laughable.

Finally, the suffocating silence was pierced by Elias's father, Mikhail. "I think it's time to go home," he announced, his voice a gravelly rumble. "We can discuss everything further tomorrow in my office."

My father nodded, his gaze fixed on the table. The slump of his shoulders and the way he avoided my eyes told me everything I needed to know. He was drowning in guilt; the weight of arranging my marriage to this family was suffocating him. I couldn’t muster any anger toward my parents; my focus was solely on Roman.

His selfishness was the root of this entire mess. He had borrowed a ludicrous amount of money without informing anyone, and now I was the one suffering the consequences. I was forced to marry into the Thorne family, a clan of fakes and liars, all because of his arrogance. The injustice of it all burned in my chest.

I stood up, smoothing the fabric of my dress with deliberate movements. I watched as my parents exchanged hollow handshakes with Elias and his wife, their smiles as plastic as their promises. When it was my turn, I offered a tight, polite smile that didn’t reach my eyes. As we walked to the car, an immense sense of relief washed over me, as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I just wanted to return home, lock myself in my room, and immerse myself in my project—anything to escape the fake smiles and the stifling reality of my new life.

---

Roman and I sat in the back seat of the car. He attempted to stir up a conversation, reminiscent of our earlier days, but the anger and disappointment I felt toward him made it impossible to engage without resentment bubbling to the surface.

“Roman, don’t even try to talk to me right now. Because of you, I have to marry into the Thorne family. And were you really insulting Elias? Do you want me to die?” My voice remained calm and low, though it barely masked my fury. “Just be quiet, Roman. I’m not in the mood for your stupidity!” I said sharply.

He opened his mouth to respond, but quickly shut it upon meeting my icy glare, one that conveyed just how disappointed I was in him. The rest of the ride was enveloped in silence, broken only by the sound of the engine and my parents’ hushed whispers, which I barely registered as I sank deeper into my thoughts about my impending future.

The weight of everything pressed down on me—the arranged marriage and my dreams of being a fashion designer. Everything would grow complicated once the news was revealed to the world, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to face the public’s scrutiny. I took deep breaths, trying to steady myself.

---

Once I was back in the sanctuary of my bedroom, I finally felt I could breathe again. At my desk, surrounded by the tools of my trade, I carefully opened my sketchbook, its pages filled with dreams and aspirations. My fingers traced the delicate lines of a design, fabric samples pinned alongside sketches. This project—my upcoming final for fashion design class—was my only escape. It was the one part of my life that still felt truly mine. As I lost myself in the creative process, my pencil glided across the paper, the world outside my window fading into oblivion. For those precious moments, I was just Anya—a fashion designer, not a pawn in a game I never wanted to play.

Taking deep breaths, I stared at my sketch and the fabric samples. If only I could stop this arranged marriage. But deep down, I knew I couldn't. The Thornes were the most powerful family around, known for their cruelty and lies. I couldn't risk defying them.