Chapter 1: Shattered Dreams
“Ava adjusted the dresses on the rack, her fingers tracing the fabric she had carefully chosen weeks ago. The tiny shop wasn’t much, but it was her— or at least, it would be once she finally paid off the remaining rent. Today had been like any other: customers coming and going, the sound of chattering voices blending with the soft hum of love song playing on the radio.
Then, her phone vibrated in her apron pocket. A message from her stepmother.
‘Come home now. It’s urgent.”
Ava had spent years creating a life for herself, one she could call her own. Her tiny clothing boutique wasn’t much, but it was her own. Every outfit she sold, every fabric she chose, pushed her closer to her ultimate goal: developing the business and demonstrating to herself that she didn’t need anyone to save her.
But all it took was a single phone call to destroy everything.
“Come home. Now.”
Her stepmother’s voice was unusually firm, and Ava knew better than to argue. She closed her shop early, anxiety tightening in her chest as she made her way home.
When she arrived, the air inside the house was thick with tension. Her stepmother stood stiffly by the dining table, while her father sat in silence, his eyes avoiding hers.
Ava crossed her arms. “What’s going on?”
Her stepmother exhaled sharply.
“You’re getting married.”
Silence. A suffocating, defeaning silence.
Ava’s heart slammed against her ribs. She let out a short, breathless laugh.
“That’s not funny.”
“It’s not a joke,” her father said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Her stomach twisted. “You can’t be serious.”
Her stepmother met her eyes coldly.
“We don’t have a choice.”
Ava’s breath caught. “What do you mean? Who am I a supposed to marry?”
“His name is Rhys De Montaigne.”
The name sent a chill down her spine. She had heard of him before. The youngest CEO of De Montaigne Enterprises, a man knows for his ruthless business tactics and a fortune that placed him amount the country’s wealthiest elite.
Her hands clenched into fists. “And why, exactly, do I have to marry him?”
Her father finally spoke, his voice filled with guilt. “Because we owe his family a debt. One we can’t pay.”
Ava’s world spun. A debt.
So that was it. She wasn’t a daughter or a woman with dreams, she was a payment.
Her stepmother’s voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. “The wedding is in a month. Pack your things.”
Ava’s knees felt weak, but refused to let them see her break. She straightened her spine and lifted her chin. “I won’t do it.”
Her stepmother’s lips curled into a bitter smile.
“You don’t have a choice.”
