over and over burned in her mind. Marriage to Dante Cross. A private ceremony. A solution to the sc

tside her window glimmered as sunlight touched every rooftop, but inside her room, everything felt dark and thick. She had thought she was sa

tled her. She inhaled sh

htly together. "You need to prepare yourself. Th

"Talking about what? Everyone already kn

How you carry yourself. You are not just dealing with this one wedding. You are walking into

eagues, not even her best friend when she had disagreed with her. But Dante... there was some

w can I marry a man I have barely met, because of

quickly that intentions do not matter. Only results matter. You have

o someone else. She looked down at her phone. Multiple messages blinked in the notification bar. He

lieve what you did,

y calling you reck

sharp, simply sai

d over the screen, then pulled back. Every word felt like an accusat

a," he said, his tone deliberate, "you cannot stay hidden. You must face the world outside. The

tight. "And if I do not ag

thing but chaos in your wake. The scandal will not fade. Your friend

t her friend, and now she felt like the architect of destruction. Her chest ached. Her fingers sho

he di

lope on the desk. Dante Cross. She picked it up again, reading th

a union. You will marry me. The wedding w

never see the name Dante Cross again. And yet, something about the precision of the words, the calm ce

quiet clink of breakfast dishes, the occasional whisper that carried from the front hall. Each sound made her pulse jum

treet. Even here, she could feel the eyes. A neighbor gave a polite nod but lingered too long with her gaze. A

d to her companion across the stre

ind, his voice steady and sharp: "There is a way to fix this." She

her door. She opened it with trembling hands. The paper

stakes cannot be undone. People noti

ords were not a threat exactly, but the weight behind them pressed down like lead. She felt trapped. Not just by

d not cry. She did not speak. She only stared at the words, at the ci

as clever. Far too clever. He would not simply propose to save his family. There was s

hours pass, letting the city move without her, letting the world carry its gos

elope, it was all one thread leading directly to Dante Cross. The storm was coming. She would

s. She moved to the mirror, catching a glimpse of herself in the fading light. The woman starin

the door, her hand on the knob, her gaze lifting to the streets beyond. The city

epare. She could

f the evening, she wondered wha