"It seems you did a very good job, Doll." Ralf says, flipping through the Matchbook with Mellanny while you sat across from them quietly. "He owns his own business, and even more than that, it seems it is tied in closely with other businesses owned by other members of his family."

"Quite the network." Mellanny hums, a satisfied smile on her lips. "We'll be able to proceed with everything just as we planned."

You don't flinch at the word, but there's a knot in your stomach you hadn't expected. You hadn't even seen any part of the Matchbook yet, knowing better than to even ask until someone decided to hand it over. You had no idea what your partner looked like, or even his name at this point.

Such details that were irrelevant to The Plan after all, so it wasn't surprising that either one of your parents had made mention of either detail. As curious as you were, you managed to set it aside completely. If it wasn't important enough for them to share it, it wasn't important enough for you to worry about.

Besides, they didn't control their expressions at all compared to you, so they were actually both easy to read. Neither had even flinched in disgust, so at the very least you knew that your match was conventionally attractive. Not that it truly mattered, all you really hoped for in this was someone who wouldn't beat you, or discard you, if The Plan went awry.

If everything worked as expected, you would get to live your life quietly with someone who could recover from what would happen to them, and you'd be able to raise children just as the government wanted you to. Never to see either of your parents ever again.

Ralf finally hands over a single photo.

The man in the photo had apparently noticed his picture was being taken and had posed a little. The big toothy smile was warm, and his eyes were bright and clear. He was wearing a uniform, a crisp white uniform with a bright yellow scarf tied loosely around his neck. The impressive pompadour was a little jarring, as you'd only seen that hair style in magazines and TV shows. His goatee was neat and the crescent shaped scar around his eye was one of the last things you noticed.

He looked kind in the photo.

You wondered what you looked like in the pictures he'd receive of you. Would he see all the things your parents wanted you to show to people? Would the camera have caught a moment of some other emotion on your face? Would he consider your features pleasant, or would he resign himself to having to accept them?

He was as wealthy as your parents wanted for you, maybe he would force you to undergo surgery and change to suit his desires.

The thought didn't bother you, and you smile warmly as you hand the picture back. It didn't matter, you were just a doll, as long as he didn't discard you, you wouldn't complain.

"His name is Edward Thatch," Mellanny explains. "His father Edward Newgate is the CEO of the shipping conglomerate. Thatch, Marco, or Izou are expected to take over the company, and all three are currently running their own businesses."

"There's a lot in here about being patient with the hours he keeps," Ralf continues, as he and your mother trade and review the information in the packet. "It looks like most of the men in that family get their own place once they come of age, so you'll be moving into his apartment during the grace period."

"Apartment?" Mellanny bites the word off in disdain.

"Just temporary," Ralf assures her. "With this kind of money I'm sure they'll have a house built as part of the wedding process."

"That will give us more opportunities, won't it? If we incorporate the house into The Plan?"

He shakes his head. "Too risky at this stage, we could compromise everything else."

"Eh, you're right. The return might be too small anyway." She mutters dismissively, shuffling another paper away. "We need to call them in the next hour."

"Mm, we'll give it another twenty minutes, it won't do to seem desperate. They could call us first, and that would work out well."

Everything always had to be just so. Considered from all angles, and all outcomes. You and your family weren't particularly wealthy. Enough that they could dress you as they wanted, and provide the education they felt would be best, but they always wanted more. Always wanted you and The Plan to provide more.

The "more" they felt entitled to.

The "more" you deprived them of.

The "more" that would set you free of any further obligation to them. Once The Plan was done you would be clear of any debt, left to live whatever life you could make from whatever they left you with.

Which would be more than they had now, so you should be grateful. Would be grateful.

Your phone rang, and your parents' faces lit up. Your mother let it ring a couple times, motioning you closer to it before putting it on speaker.

"H-hello?" You say, letting nervousness into your voice as was expected.

There's a short pause on the other end. "Yes, this is Edward Thatch, is this...?" His voice is pleasant, and you can hear a shift of papers before he says your name, mispronouncing it slightly. He might be truly nervous, or simply busy and unconcerned.

"It is," you answer, keeping your voice steady. Your mother would chide you if you were truly nervous. "I received your book earlier, I was... a little nervous about calling first."

"Ah, haha, yeah, me too." There's mirth in his voice that sounds genuine, and you feel something brush against your chest, but it's fleeting and you pay it no mind. "A proper gentleman wouldn't keep a lovely lady waiting, so I'm glad I was able to call you, ahem, first."

"Me too, thank you Mr. Edward." You smile, knowing the action will change the tone of your voice and carry it through the phone for him. "I believe we need to set up our first meeting, right?"

"Yes, within forty-eight hours, I believe, and please, call me Thatch." He agrees, and you can hear more shuffling. "I shouldn't be at work too late tonight, is seven this evening too soon?"

You look up at your parents and they're both giving you thumbs up.

"Not at all, it's perfect."

"Good, good," you can hear the relief in his voice. He's either very practiced at coming across exactly how he wants, or he simply isn't hiding anything. You won't know until you're in the same room with him. "I can coordinate with my father and come to your house if you're more comfortable with that, or we're welcome to meet at my father's house if you prefer."

Both of your parents are pointing to the phone, and you know what they're implying. You also didn't need their response, there's no way they would miss a chance to see Edward Newgate's home in person.

"If you can provide the address, it would be easier for my parents and I to come to you and your father." The practiced answer falls easily from your lips.

The conversation moves into something a little more logistical after that. You get the address from Thatch, and he apologizes for needing to cut the conversation short, things are busy and he wants to be sure he won't leave you and your folks waiting for him. When you hang up the phone your parents hug one another, cheering at the success of things so far before turning to you.

"There's plenty of time before we need to leave, get cleaned up and change into what we picked out before." Mellanny instructs. "I'll take care of your hair once you get dressed and we'll go light on the makeup, just something to soften the edges. We'll hold off on a proper seduction until we have more concrete information."

"Yes mother."

"It's not wrong to wait until your wedding night," Ralf asserts. "Don't let him pressure you. That night will likely be our best chance, it would be preferable that he is completely distracted."

"Yes father," you answer, getting up and going to get ready as instructed.

You follow the steps you've always followed, hardly even thinking about the process consciously at this point. There were special soaps for different parts of your body. Scents here, gentle cleansing there, no risk of a blemish, no wrinkles, rashes or irritations. It was nice to at least be using the same things at this point. For a few years your mother had you switching soaps, brands, frequencies, and everything else until she was satisfied that what you were using would leave your face as flawless as possible.

Puberty had been a nightmare, and it was also when you'd really started to fall into your doll-like behavior. It had taken almost a dozen trips to the doctor's before she was convinced there was little more to do but wait out the acne. You'd had a few prescription creams, and she consulted with the doctor over nearly three dozen over the counter options. She wanted it gone, but she was just controlled enough to not risk chemically burning your skin in the process.

You were grateful for that much, but if she had done so you wouldn't have been part of a plan at all, never mind The Plan.

You didn't rush, but you didn't dawdle. If you were too fast you'd be chastised for not getting ready properly, being too slow would be much the same. Though, so close to your first meeting your parents would probably avoid risking things that could upset you.

Dressed how you were instructed, your father dried your hair carefully while your mother applied some make up. You sat still, eyes closed until instructed differently, and let them do as they pleased.

Once they were both satisfied with your appearance, it was time to go over how you were supposed to act. Your parents would do most of the talking for you, which wasn't unheard of. First meetings were supposed to include supportive family, who were there to ease the awkwardness and tension of meeting someone for the first time.

The preference was that the Matchs' parents would be a part of it, but sometimes a person's family situation could create a different scenario. The only thing the law was clear about was that matches had to have their first physical meeting within 48 hours of receiving their book. Just like with you, most people did see to it within the same day.

Guided into the backseat of the car, when it was time to leave, you did little more than replay the conversation with your parents over in your head. Not so that you wouldn't forget it, but so that any actions you took would be smooth and natural. So that anything you had to do to adjust to some unforeseeable change in The Plan would still pull back to what was required.

It was going to be a bit of a drive, but time didn't matter to you. The clock wouldn't begin until tonight, when The Plan would finally move from it's preparations stage, to something more active.

After six months, or even sooner if things went well, you and your match would be married. The details didn't matter to you, what did matter was that divorce was so rare that it was one of the most repeated statistics regarding the program. It wasn't just a rare occurrence, but it was also very difficult to even initiate it.

So, even if The Plan happened without a hitch, the likelihood that you would be discarded afterward was low. That was your only concern, or more correctly maybe your only goal.

You didn't want to end up back with your parents, no matter what.