Chapter 5:
The Guest of Honor at Her Own Funeral

Five days before the wedding.

The dining room was nothing short of palatial - high ceilings gilded in gold, crystal chandeliers dripping light like falling stars, casting a warm, amber glow over walls lined with mirrors and silk. The table itself was a masterpiece: polished mahogany stretching endlessly, set with fine bone china, silver cutlery that gleamed, and crystal glasses catching the light like diamonds. Towering arrangements of soft blush peonies stood at every turn, their sweet scent mixing with the faint, expensive perfume in the air. Plates of pastries, fresh fruits, and delicate dishes were laid out like a feast - beautiful, abundant, and completely hollow.

Around it sat the people who would decide the rest of her life.

The Landichos.

A name that carried weight across the country - senators, former presidents, governors, power woven into their bloodline like inheritance. They moved with the quiet confidence of people who had always gotten what they wanted, and tonight, what they wanted was her.

At the head of the table sat Ryan Landicho - the eldest son, her fiancé. He was handsome in that polished, carefully groomed way - dark hair neatly styled, a navy polo that fit him perfectly, a watch on his wrist worth more than most people's cars. He looked at her across the expanse of white tablecloth, and his smile was pleasant, polite, and completely empty. Not unkind - just... indifferent. He didn't look at her like she was the love of his life. He looked at her like she was a fine acquisition - beautiful, valuable, meant to be displayed, protected, and owned.

"Everything is moving along perfectly," Ryan said, his voice smooth and steady, like he was discussing a business merger rather than a marriage. "The cathedral is confirmed. The guest list is finalized. The press is already asking for details."

Astrid sat straight, her long chestnut hair falling soft and sleek over her shoulders, her makeup flawless - sharp, elegant, untouchable. She kept her hands folded in her lap so no one would see them tremble. "That's... good."

"Good?" Her stepmother Amanda reached across the table, patting Astrid's hand with perfectly manicured fingers - the gesture was warm, practiced, and as genuine as a painted smile. "It's wonderful, darling! Everything is falling right into place. You'll be the most beautiful bride. Everyone will be talking about this union for years." She pulled her hand back, already turning her attention to Ryan's mother, her voice bright and eager. "We're so lucky the Landichos were generous enough to consider our family. It's such a blessing."

A blessing. Not how do you feel? Not are you happy? Just - lucky. As if she hadn't just been traded like collateral.

Beside her, her father Theodore Lim sat tall, his posture rigid with satisfaction. He barely looked at her, his attention mostly on Ryan and Ryan's parents - the Senator and the former First Lady. "We're grateful," Theodore said, his voice thick with deference. "Astrid knows what this means for all of us. She's always been a responsible daughter."

Responsible. Not loved. Not cherished. Responsible. As if she were a contract, not a person.

Across from her, her younger half-brother Jared sat slouched in his chair, scrolling through his phone, barely listening. He looked up once, caught her eye, then looked back down - indifferent, unbothered. To him, this was just another fancy family dinner. Her life being traded away didn't even register on his radar.

Amanda leaned in again, her voice dropping to a tone that was meant to sound maternal but only sounded performative. "And don't worry about anything, sweetie. We've taken care of all the arrangements. You just show up and look beautiful. That's all anyone expects from you anyway." She laughed lightly, the sound tinkling and cold. "You don't need to stress your pretty little head about the details. We're handling everything. We're doing this for you."

For her. Astrid wanted to laugh. If they were doing this for her, wouldn't someone have asked her what she wanted? Wouldn't someone have noticed that she hadn't eaten in three days? That her smiles didn't reach her eyes? That she was slowly dying inside, one polite conversation at a time?

Astrid sat there, silent, while they talked about her wedding, her future, her life - as if she wasn't even in the room.

No one asked her what she wanted. No one asked if she loved him. No one looked at her and saw the girl who used to sketch dresses until her fingers ached, who ran fast and far because she was terrified of being caught, who had loved a boy with steady eyes and pilot wings since she was five years old.

They saw the alliance. The payment. The solution to their problems.

And as she sat there, surrounded by gold and crystal and people who called themselves her family, the familiar, hollow loneliness settled over her - the same one she had carried since she was seven years old.

Seven years old when her parents' marriage shattered. Seven years old when she learned her father's promises meant nothing. Seven years old when her mother packed her bags and left - left her behind.

Her mother was somewhere across the world now, living peacefully with her new husband, her new children, her new life. Astrid had sent invitations. She hadn't even replied.

An only daughter. Alone. With no one to lean on but herself.

So she learned. She learned to be quiet. To be strong. To solve her own problems. To hide her tears in the shower and her fears behind a smile that didn't reach her eyes. She learned that love was conditional - something given only when you were useful, only when you could pay the price. Amanda had taught her that best - all hugs and sweet words when there was something to gain, but cold as marble the moment she asked for anything in return.

And now the price had come due.

"Five days," Ryan said, his eyes meeting hers again across the endless table. "Everything will be different in five days, Astrid. You'll be family."

Family. The word tasted like ash in her mouth. She was already family to these people sitting around her - her father who saw her as a solution, her stepmother who saw her as an accessory, her brother who saw nothing at all - and not a single one of them had asked her if she was okay. Not one had noticed she was breaking.

Amanda squeezed her arm - too tight, too quick to pull away. "Isn't it exciting, darling? A whole new life. We're so proud of you."

Proud. Of what? Of signing her name on a life she didn't choose?

She lifted her glass of water, her fingers brushing the cold crystal. "Yes," she said, her voice steady, practiced. "Five days."

Amanda beamed. Theodore nodded approvingly. Jared kept scrolling. Ryan smiled that polite, empty smile.

And Astrid sat there, surrounded by more luxury than most people would see in a lifetime, feeling poorer than she ever had - the ghost of a boy with dark eyes and a silver lighter haunting the edges of her mind, the only person who had ever loved her without asking for anything in return.

She had given him up to save them. To save her father's business. To pay the debt. To be the good daughter.

But as she looked around the table - at Amanda's fake, gleaming smile, at her father's eager subservience, at the triumph in their voices, the way none of them saw her slowly disappearing beneath the gold and crystal - she wondered, for the first time, if it was worth it.

If she was worth nothing more than this. A transaction. A signature. A wedding dress that would look beautiful on a woman who was already dead inside.

Ryan placed his napkin on the table. "Shall we?"

Astrid stood up. Her legs felt heavy, but she held her head high - the way she had learned to do long before any of them were born.

"After you," she said.

And as they walked out of the dining room - the gilded walls, the chandeliers, the powerful family she was being sold into, the father who had signed the papers without a second thought, the stepmother who smiled while she handed her the knife, the brother who didn't care enough to look up - she realized something that would sit in her chest like a stone for the next five days:

Not a single one of them was asking if she wanted to be saved.