Her jaw tightened as if she could bite back the chaos inside. The truth settled over us like a shroud: Persephone had always been my target all along.
"Are you serious?" she asked. "It changed everything."
I smirked.
Not to me, it hadn't.
And now that Callista had made herself scarce? Everything fell into place perfectly.
“What should we tell the guests?” The atmosphere outside turned thick as Persephone’s mother, her voice laced with desperation, broke the silence.
“The truth,” I replied, relishing the way her face blanched. “That Callista is a coward, and that I wanted to marry Seph all along. I’m sure you can think of something.”
Her father stepped forward, icy composure etched on his features, and extended his hand toward me—a gesture meant to seal some unspoken deal between us.
I gripped his hand harder than necessary, forcing him to meet my gaze. The tension in his eyes flickered for just a moment, revealing what lay beneath the polished surface: a man who cared little for his daughters beyond their utility.
Persephone stood frozen nearby, confusion battling fury on her face. She watched me hold her father’s hand in a vise-like grip, and I savored the realization dawning on her—her family’s true nature was out in the open now.
“Your daughter,” I said slowly, allowing each word to sink in like lead, “is not precious to you.”
He blinked but didn’t break our handshake. The pressure I applied was deliberate; I wanted Persephone to see how expendable she truly was in their world of appearances.
“Business is business,” he finally replied with a curt nod, devoid of warmth. His words echoed through the room like an executioner’s decree.
Persephone’s breath quickened, and I caught the flare of her nostrils. Anger rippled off her like heat from flames.
I admired it; it suited her. It made my next move easier.
“Don’t be surprised if she has something to say about this,” her mother warned weakly.
“Let her speak,” I said. The thrill of watching Persephone unravel made every part of this worth it.
“You’ll regret this,” she snapped, stepping forward as if challenging me directly.
“No.” My voice dripped with finality as I released her father’s hand and let him take a step back. “You’ll learn your place soon enough. And I'll enjoy teaching it to you."
The weight of my words lingered between us—heavy and undeniable—and the truth began to settle over Persephone like an inevitable shroud.
The valet pulled up in a sleek black car, the engine humming softly like a predator waiting to pounce. He opened the door for her, and I leaned back against the cool metal of the car, arms crossed, an amused smirk curling my lips.
“Get in,” I ordered, letting the weight of my voice settle around us. “If you know what’s good for you.”
For a heartbeat, she hesitated, fire flickering in her eyes. Then she obeyed, sliding into the front seat. I reveled in her reluctant submission as she turned away from me, fingers gripping the edge of her seat like it was a lifeline.
I tipped the driver handsomely before taking my place behind the wheel. The engine roared to life, and we glided away from the estate—a modern chariot racing toward an uncertain future.
Persephone sat silent beside me, but I could feel the tension coiling within her like a spring ready to snap. Her mind whirred with thoughts that danced just beyond my reach. She thought she could run. She thought she could fight me.
I knew better.
Her heart hammered in rhythm with her rebellious spirit; every pulse screamed defiance even as she stared out at the darkened streets passing by. She believed there was an escape route—some clever trick that would set her free from this arrangement. It was adorable, really.
But deep down, beneath all that rage and stubbornness lay a sense of powerlessness she couldn’t quite shake off.
“Where are we going?” she asked after what felt like an eternity of silence.
“Your new home.” My gaze remained fixed on the road ahead as I navigated through familiar turns. “We will live together, you know. Just enjoy this time to really think what that means. To be married to me.”
