IVY
The maids worked in silence, but their hands spoke enough.
They pulled fabric over my shoulders. They smoothed it down my sides. They tightened it around my waist like they were afraid I might disappear if they didn’t hold me in place. The dress was heavy. Not because of the cloth. Because of what it meant.
They wanted me to look like a promise.
The dress hugged my curves in a way that made my body look like it belonged to someone else. Someone ready. Someone willing. Someone excited about standing beside Damon Jackson and smiling like her future had already been written.
I stared at my reflection.
I looked beautiful.
That was the problem.
Diamonds sat around my neck, cold and bright. Damon had chosen them himself. He’d said diamonds showed strength. Permanence. Ownership. I r
