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My pulse thudded in my throat as the car slowed before the mansion gates. Black iron scrollwork arched overhead, its shadow tracing dark patterns onto the gravel drive.

Through the tinted window, I caught glimpses of white stone pillars and lawns so perfectly trimmed they looked artificial. No breeze. No birds. Just a hush thick enough that it made me sit up straighter.

I folded my hands in my lap, fingers twitching but I laced them tighter, trapping the nervous energy against my ribs.

During the drive, Mother had only said we were dining with the Aldridges. A name dripping with old money and politics.

She didn't say why. She didn't need to.

Mother didn't do casual dinners, especially not with people like them. If we were here, it meant something. And knowing her, that something likely involved me.

What if this was it? The moment I'd have to choose between what I wanted and what she expected?

That thought made my skin prickle. I wanted to run. But refusing her always felt like losing the only love I'd ever known.

Please... let me be wrong.

The car door clicked open. Mother stepped out first, her heels tapping clean notes into the gravel. Not a hint of hesitation or uncertainty.

She wore a navy suit, sharp at the shoulders and cinched at the waist. Her updo was flawless, not a strand out of place. Diamond earrings caught the last rays of the sun, flashing like small, cold stars.

Her face was calm. But I knew that gleam in her eyes and the smile that hovered just beneath the surface. It was the look she wore when something was being set in motion.

I followed her lead, back straightening instinctively. A habit ingrained from years of training under Mother's watchful eye.

Our heels clicked in rhythm. Mine, always a half-beat behind.

Everything you do reflects back on us, Desiree.

The memory of her words tightened around my chest like a corset.

So, I slipped into the mask she'd taught me to wear. The smile that gave nothing away. The one that promised everything was fine.

A man in a dark suit bowed as we approached and opened the double doors.

The scent of lemon polish curled into the air-conditioned foyer, mingling with the faint musk of old wood. Gleaming floors stretched out like mirrors, reflecting the chandelier's gold in trembling pools. Gold-paneled walls were lined with portraits and photographs.

One showed Walter Aldridge mid-speech at a podium, his face frozen in that faked sincerity politicians wore like cheap cologne. I'd seen him once at my former school when officials came to talk about education funding and "youth leadership potential"— whatever that meant.

Next to his photo was a family portrait. A woman seated elegantly on velvet chaise, hand resting on the shoulder of a smiling toddler. The little boy's round cheeks and glasses gave him a bookish charm. Walter Aldridge stood behind them.

To his side, a teenage boy stood just slightly apart, face angled just enough to hint at sharp cheekbones and a distant stare. Before I could study him longer, the real Aldridges stepped into view like they'd walked out of the frame.

"Eveline, so good to see you again," said Mrs. Aldridge, stepping forward with a gracious smile. Her blonde hair was pinned in a loose bun. Her husband followed, broad-shouldered and imposing in his tailored suit.

"Walter. Margaret. Lovely as ever," Mother replied, then gestured to me. "This is my daughter, Desiree."

I stepped forward, flashing my best dimpled smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for having us."

Margaret smiled, her gaze sweeping over me like a jeweler inspecting a gem. "Even lovelier than we've heard. Please, call me Margaret."

"Thank you, Margaret." I kept my tone warm, my posture flawless. This was a dance I knew by heart.

Walter gave a polite nod, then glanced toward the stairs. "We apologize for our son's delay. Wallace will join us shortly. He's had a long day."

The name dropped like a pebble into a still pond.

Wallace

The same name whispered around Fictus Academy since I'd transferred.

The notorious bad boy with a temper and a record. The one who was held back twice but still skipped classes, got into fights, and didn't care who he pissed off.

And yet, somehow, most girls I'd met at school seemed drawn to him like moths to flame. I never understood why.

I hadn't officially met him, even after three weeks at school.

I guess that changes tonight.

"No need to apologize," Mother said. "We're here to enjoy the evening."

We followed them into the dining room. Crystal glasses sparkled under gold lights. Silverware lined silk napkins. Nothing out of place.

This table wasn't set for comfort, but for control.

Even the chandelier above seemed to glare down, light drilling into my spine.

I took my seat beside Mother, smoothing the napkin across my lap. My fingers twitched above the linen before I pressed them flat.

Then, I heard unhurried footsteps. Still half-listening to the conversation, I glanced toward the door.

A second later, he entered without ceremony, his shirt rumpled and hair tousled. It was as if he'd either fought the wind on the way in or barely ducked out of trouble.

I almost expected a cigarette hanging from his lips and maybe a black eye. Something that fit the rumors.

Then he looked up and my breath caught.

I straightened without meaning to, brushing the napkin again to steady myself.

It's him. The boy I bumped into on my first day at school...

He's Wallace Aldridge?

I hadn't forgotten the heat in his glare that day.

And how, for the first time in my life, someone didn't seem interested in pleasing or impressing me. Instead, he treated me as if I was just some clumsy girl who'd gotten in his way. Like I was an inconvenience, not even worth a second glance.

Now here he was. And apparently, he was that bad boy.

Huh...

He barely glanced at me, just a brief disinterested flick of the eyes and a raised brow. Then dropped into a chair beside his mother without a word or apology.

I saw the slight falter in Mother's smile. The crease between her brows.

My stomach turned.

Of all the political families... why this one?

I slipped a hand into my purse, fingers finding the familiar small shape of a wrapped candy I'd stashed there. I rolled it between my fingers, letting its weight ground me as I watched him from the corner of my eye.

Wallace slouched in his chair, fingers tapping twice against the rim of his plate.

That same rhythm from that day when I handed him candies, only to be met with a blank stare.

Does he remember?

I schooled my face before the thought could rise in my expression, gripping the candy tighter. The edges pressed into my skin.

"Wallace," Walter said, voice low and stern. "You're late."

Wallace raised his glass and met his father's eyes. Then took a slow, deliberate sip. He didn't speak. Didn't blink.

My brow twitched. I bit the inside of my cheek, suppressing the urge to laugh.

I'd never seen someone do that to their parent. At a formal dinner with guests, no less.

Even Hamlet might've winced at the audacity.

"Eveline," Walter turned to mother, recovering quickly. "I don't believe you've officially met our eldest. He'll be applying for political science soon. Naturally, we expect him to follow the family tradition."

Wallace scoffed under his breath.

Walter's smile thinned. "We've already mapped out his trajectory. There's a lot of preparation ahead."

Wallace's fork hovered mid-air. He didn't move. His jaw flexed tight, like he was biting down on a reply.

Margaret, seated quietly between them, shifted in her chair. Her fingers brushed the base of her wineglass. Her gaze flicked to her son, then dropped. She didn't contradict her husband but she didn't look proud, either.

"Desiree recently transferred to Fictus," Mother said, voice smooth as silk. "Perhaps they've met already."

Walter turned to me "Ah, yes. I heard you were top of your class at your previous school. Remarkable." His gaze flicked toward Wallace. "Maybe you could learn a thing or two from her. God knows you'll need all the help you can get if you want to graduate this year."

Wallace stilled. Fork still in hand. Eyes fixed on his plate.

I could feel the pressure building behind his silence. Like a lid pressed too hard on a boiling pot.

At school, they said Wallace had vanished for six months and only just come back. Rumor was he'd been living in the dangerous areas of the city.

No one really knew why.

Now I had a theory.

Apparently, warmth wasn't part of the Aldridge household decor.

Instead of a welcome home, he was put on display at a formal dinner. With guests. With expectations.

And I was part of it.

Around us, conversation resumed as if nothing had fractured the air, picking up between the clink of cutlery and the scent of meat.

I responded to each question with practiced charm. Smiled where appropriate. Speaking with the poise rehearsed over and over in front of mirrors and cameras.

When Walter asked about my future plans, I gave him the answers Mother had approved. When Margaret asked about Dream Catcher, I smiled and replied, "There's always something new to learn in business."

Mother nodded beside me. "She's always been focused."

The truth was irrelevant. All that mattered was maintaining the right image and be everything my mother needed me to be.

Beneath it all, a strange pressure gathered behind my ribs but I took a breath and held it there.

Halfway through the meal, Walter cleared his throat. "Wallace, you've met Desiree, haven't you?"

Wallace looked up and our eyes met.

"We've crossed paths," he said, flat as dry paper.

His eyes gave nothing away. Although I noticed the twitch at the corner of his mouth that vanished as fast as it appeared.

"Well," Walter went on, "you'll be seeing more of her. Eveline and I have come to an agreement. We believe a partnership between our families would be mutually beneficial."

My fingers slackened around the fork, letting it rest lightly on the plate. But beneath the table, my other hand curled protectively around the candy. The wrapper gave a soft crackle in my fist, the sound lost under the hum of conversation.

Across from me, Wallace didn't move. His jaw tightened, brows drawn low, a muscle ticking at his temple.

"We've decided it would be best for you and Desiree to marry," Walter said.

Mother's gaze swept over me, light as a passing breeze. "Indeed. A formal union is the best way forward."

The words fell into place like a closing door. One that locked from the outside.

Why him?

He was everything she warned me to avoid. Wild. Undisciplined. Reckless.

So why him?

She didn't need alliances. Dream Catcher Entertainment had power, reach, influence. Whatever the Aldridges had, it wasn't something we lacked.

But the calm smile on her face said it all. It was never about lack. It was about control, leverage, and appearances.

Just another scene. Another mask. Another role I was expected to play without missing a line.

Still, a faint tremor passed through me, and my heartbeat ticked against my ribs. My throat went dry, but I bit my lower lip and looked up.

A pulse of heat bloomed at the base of my neck when my eyes met a pair of deep blue ones.

Wallace was already watching me.

Not with boredom this time, but something sharper. Like he saw past the mask and straight into the crack beneath it.

Our eyes locked for a beat too long. I looked away first, mask snapping back into place. Even from the corner of my eye, I caught him shaking his head before he let out a low, bitter laugh.

Then, without warning, his chair screeched back. The harsh sound sliced through the dining room, jarring everyone into silence.

"I'm not doing this. I'm not marrying anyone just because it's convenient for you." Wallace said, his voice cold and sharp.

Walter's face turned crimson instantly. "Wallace—!"

"I don't give a damn what kind of agreement you've made!" Wallace snapped. "I'm not your fucking prop, and I sure as hell ain't marrying some stranger to clean up your mess. Hard pass."

He tossed his napkin onto the table and stormed out. The front door slammed behind him, and I flinched before I could stop myself.

Silence followed.

Just like that, he was gone.

My heart pounded as I squeezed the candy tighter. Its shape pressed into my palm, the foil folding under my grip.

He'd refused. Walked away. Free, defiant, and unapologetic.

What if...

What if I can too?

𓇢𓆸

Thank you so much for reading!

I hope you enjoyed the first 2 chapters!

[Edited: 2,060 words]

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