The masters vengeance

She sat stiffly in the backseat, her fingers twisting the delicate fabric of her dress as though it might ease her racing thoughts. The silence in the car was suffocating thick, heavy, and far more oppressive than any words her father could have spoken. She dared not look at him directly. Even a glance felt like an invitation for disapproval. Her father, a man known for his cold authority and merciless reputation, sat beside her with an air of absolute control. His presence alone made her spine straighten, her breaths shallow. She had never been this close to him for so long before. It felt unnatural… dangerous. Her gaze drifted to the window instead, watching the city lights blur past. Anything to avoid him. Anything to keep herself small, unnoticed. Tonight he had wanted to introduce her to the man she will get married to, And knowing the kind of man her father is she had no choice and no say. All she could do was seat there and silence and obey blindly. When the car finally came to a smooth stop, she felt a quiet wave of relief short-lived, but enough to loosen the tight knot in her chest. The door was opened for them. She stepped out carefully, her heels meeting the polished ground as she adjusted her dress.The dress her father had bought for her. Her father who had never been interested in what she wears, carefully hand picked the best tailor in town to custom make this dress and gave it to her this morning so she knew this event was very important. The black silk dress carefully hung on her body revealing her perfectly sculpted frame. She had big breasts that was revealed in the dress,causing glances and stares. Before she could gather herself fully, her father was already walking ahead, not sparing her a glance. She quickly followed behind him, keeping a good distance ,her steps light and cautious. The hotel stood tall and grand, it's lights spilling everywhere across the streets. Inside, the air was filled with soft music, quiet laughter, and the murmur of influential voices. Huge chandeliers shone above, casting a glow over elegantly dressed guests socialites, business tycoons, and individuals whose names carried weight. She lowered her gaze slightly, masking her unease behind a polite expression. As her father moved through the crowd, people greeted him with respect some even with a hint of fear. She mirrored their smiles when their eyes landed on her, though hers never quite reached her eyes. She remained just behind him, hands clasped in front of her, waiting. Always waiting. Then, her father stopped. “Come here,” he said, his voice low but commanding. She stepped forward immediately. A man approached them one of her father’s long-time associates. They exchanged firm handshakes and knowing smiles, the kind that spoke of business deals and quiet. “This is my daughter” her father said. That was it no warmth , no explanation just a statement. The middle-aged man standing before them gaze finally shifted towards her. He looked at her eyes longing as if wanted to express his desires right there and then. There were faint lines around his eyes, deeper ones near his mouth, and though he carried himself with confidence, there was something about it that made her uneasy. His gaze didn’t leave her face. A small, polite smile tugged at her lips out of habit something she had learned to do long ago but her fingers tightened slightly against the fabric of her dress. “This is the one?” the man asked, glancing briefly at her father. The question made her chest tighten. The one. Like she wasn’t even standing there. Her father nodded. “She is.” That was when it settled in. Her throat felt dry, and for a moment, she forgot how to breathe properly. She kept her expression controlled but inside, something was beginning to crack.Her eyes flickered to her father, just for a second. He didn’t look at her. Didn’t explain. Didn’t soften.He just stood there, as if everything was already decided. Her father’s words hit her before she could even react. “This is your future husband. You should… warm up to him.” Before she could say anything, he gave her a slight shove toward the man and turned, walking off to greet others as if nothing had happened. She froze for a moment, caught off guard. Her chest tightened, and her hands fidgeted at her sides. The man in front of her looked at her calmly, his expression unreadable. She wanted to step back, to refuse but she couldn’t. Her father’s shove left no choice. She was stuck. Daphne spent the rest of the night sitting beside the middle-aged man, who looked at least twice her age. Her father had vanished into the crowd, leaving her exposed and tense. Suddenly, a cold hand brushed against her thigh. She looked up at the man, trying to mask the disgust rising in her chest. “I’ll be right back,” he said, giving her a small, possessive squeeze before walking away.