Dinner was exactly at eight.
Not a minute later.
Not a minute earlier.
Lena knew that before she even checked the time—because everything about Ethan Vale screamed precision.
Control.
Expectation.
She stood in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection like she didn’t quite recognize the girl looking back.
The dress laid out for her earlier fit perfectly.
Of course it did.
Black. Elegant. Simple—but expensive in a way that didn’t need to prove itself.
Her hair had been styled.
Her makeup done.
Not by her.
By someone Ethan had arranged without asking.
Lena exhaled slowly, smoothing her hands down the fabric.
This is part of the deal.
Still…
It felt like she was being transformed into someone else.
Someone who belonged here.
Someone who wasn’t her.
A soft knock came a
