The Redemption of my mates.

The Grand Deception.

Ariana (POV)

Wait! Why is he asking me to change?

The thought slammed into me. This was suspicious. I didn't want to change. I should go talk to him.

The moment my fingers brushed the cool brass of the doorknob, reality hit me like a physical blow. I am mute. I can't speak. How could I communicate?

I hate this life. I can't even say a few words to save myself. I have to follow his orders now. I have to change. And it wasn't like Dad was unaware of what was happening.

I put on the dress he’d given me and stood before the full-length mirror, examining my reflection. At first glance, the transformation was so complete I barely recognized myself—a stunning stranger staring back. A small, momentary smile touched my lips.

But as I looked closer, the smile vanished. The girl staring back seemed to be silently screaming for help. She looked like someone trapped in an abusive cage, hidden beneath a beautiful costume.

The black glittery dress was undeniably gorgeous. It was long and perfectly covered my whole arm. The only problem was the completely open back. Dad must have forgotten to tell this guy I had scars all over my body.

And my face... it felt like it was ruining the beauty of the dress. If I were this man, I'd take care of the facial appearance first, then the body.

My heart skipped a frantic beat when a soft rap came at the door. "You can come out," the guy called from the hallway.

I quickly grabbed my old clothes, stuffed them into my backpack, and walked out, wearing my jacket over the black dress.

He scanned me head-to-toe, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. "Why are you wearing that?" he asked.

"Do you feel uncomfortable in the dress?"

Would I be wearing the jacket if I wasn't? And who wouldn't feel uncomfortable in this dress?

I looked up at his face, realizing he was actually waiting for a response. I quickly nodded my head. Silly me. I was so used to talking to myself, sometimes I forgot the people around me couldn't hear my thoughts.

"But you can't wear this," he stated, pointing at the jacket.

Is he serious? I’m not walking out of here in this dress alone. Sorry, good sir, but I don't want people asking me where I got these scars.

He walked toward a wardrobe on the left and pulled out a deep red cloak. He came closer and said, avoiding my eye contact, "You can put this over the dress. The jacket is ruining the design."

Wow. What a gentleman. At least he seemed to notice this dress wasn't my style.

Once the cloak was draped over my shoulders, he gestured toward the door. "Let's go, Milady."

I nodded and followed as he led the way.

We left the hotel and went straight to a bustling beauty salon. I was given a quick and painful makeover. The stylists cooed that I looked beautiful, but honestly, I didn't see the beauty they were talking about. I looked more like a clown. My bare face was a million times better than this silly paint they'd slathered on.

Soon, we were back on the road. What is going on today? I had so many questions like; Where are you taking me? Why the makeover? And who exactly are you? But these questions would remain unanswered, just like the mystery of Mom's sudden disappearance.

This ride was much longer than expected. Was he taking me out of the city?

Am I being kidn*pped? Or did Dad sold me off to this guy.

What if he did? That’s the only explanation. Why else would he allow a total stranger to take his daughter out of town? Tears began to sting my eyes as I finally accepted the bitter truth. Dad never let me out of his sight, and today I was with a strange man, speeding away from the city limits. It all finally made sense—including his sudden change in behavior before I left. At least he had made the last moment we spent together peaceful.

I rested my head against the cold window, letting the tears stream freely. Exhaustion consumed me. My mind buzzed with a relentless torrent of unwanted thoughts and sentences. Nothing in my life made sense. I hated everything.

Mom, where are you? Please come and rescue me from this life. I feel unwell... no, I am unwell. I've been sick since the day you went missing. I know you don't like me either, but having you here would have made a difference. Mommy, there's a heavy weight pressing against my heart. Please come and lift it. Maybe that's why I can't find my voice. Mommy, I need you more than anything in life. Please save me, Mom... Save your poor daughter.

My head felt heavy, and a deep drowsiness overtook me, forcing me to surrender to sleep. I closed my eyes, allowing the realm of dreams to abduct me from the harsh grip of reality.

The moment I opened my eyes, my surroundings had changed. I was lying on a soft bed. I swiftly sat up, cradling my head as the room spun. Ugh, a pounding headache throbbed at my temples.

I scanned the luxurious room for the man. There he was, engrossed in his laptop, seemingly oblivious to my awakening. A distant light beckoned me to explore, but I hesitated, not wanting to draw his notice. Tentatively, I dropped my hands and cast a closer look at him. He was handsome, with a well-groomed beard that connected perfectly. Oddly, I realized I hadn't truly looked at him before; my gaze was always fixed on the floor or the walls whenever he spoke to me.

"Finally! You're up," he called out.

I flinched, startled by his voice. I jumped off the bed, but he quickly reassured me. "Don't worry. You can go back to sleep. I'll go order food for you."

As he exited the room, my eyes roamed around, registering the new location. And there, on the floor, lay my red cloak. How did it end up there? That means... that means he saw my... my scars!

But why was I freaking out? I’m sure He owned me now.

I sat back down, and moments later, waiters entered, placing a feast on the bed. As soon as they disappeared, I began to eat. I was hungry, having gone without food for a long time. It was delicious, but still not as good as Dad's cooking.

I couldn't finish it; 'the uncle' had ordered way too much. I placed the remaining food aside and walked out onto the balcony. Closing my eyes, I felt the wind slap against my face. A sudden, unexpected smile stretched across my lips.

I quickly opened my eyes and rushed back inside. I was bored. What could I do? Homework! Where was my bag? I looked around, but it was gone. Maybe we left it in the car.

I walked to the other side of the room and noticed a TV. Let me watch something. I switched it on and started watching the first show that appeared. The guy hadn't returned yet. Maybe he went to talk to his boss, to let him know he had 'the girl.' Funny, right? I'm an object now. It looked like I would go from boss to boss. Maybe I’ll end up finding my Prince Charming in this process.

The door creaked open, revealing a woman carrying a platter of female essentials. She smiled sweetly. "Ma'am, Sir said wear this. He'll be here soon."

Taking the platter from her, I saw a soft yellow dress. I looked at her and nodded with a warm smile, and she disappeared. I put on the dress, finding it much more modest than the black one. Red heels added a sophisticated touch. I adjusted my appearance in the mirror. The yellow dress draped gracefully, and the heels elevated my stance.

Seated, I did a quick touch of makeup, opting for a bold red lipstick. The anticipation of meeting my potential husband lingered as I waited patiently. He might just end up treating me well.

After what felt like an eternity, the man walked in, dressed in a pristine white suit. His eyes scanned me, and he repeated his earlier remark, "Shall we go, Milady?"

I nodded, following him to a massive hall teeming with people. "Congratulations!" echoed around as people greeted him. I wasn't sure why, but I smiled at everyone and shook hands. What is going on here? I thought I was meeting my potential husband, not a crowd.

Seated at a large table, everyone began eating. Laughter and joy filled the air, except for me. I observed the rejoicing scene, a stark contrast to my own hollow feelings.

Then, a guy at the table placed his hand on my thigh, making me intensely uncomfortable. After a few failed attempts to stop him discreetly, I stood up and walked away.

I rushed to the counter, and the waiter, noticing my distress, offered me a glass of water. I sat down and began sipping the glass when I overheard three ladies speaking.

"I can't believe she's his girlfriend," said one, her tone thick with disbelief as she sipped her drink.

The second, examining me from a distance, added, "Me too, she looks like a high schooler. What would he want to be with someone like her?"

The third woman, who seemed more informed, leaned in and whispered, "This guy can never be in a relationship. He brings different girls to different parties, you know? He rents them for the night. And, well, you can guess what happens after the party is over. As they say, use and throw. He will dump her tomorrow." Her statement was punctuated with a conspiratorial laugh.

A strong wave of nausea hit my stomach, and my suspicion was true. My dad... my father... rented me out! He rented his daughter out. He basically sold me off.

Dad,Do you hate me so much that you are making money out of me now?

I felt a tear escaping and quickly wiped it out. What was the point of crying? I always cried, but help never came my way. I might as well just give up. I will go with the flow.

I went back and sat next to him. This time, I didn't stop him. I let him place his hand wherever he wanted. Why should I stop him?