I don’t react.
I smile and lean into my father as we begin to sway. His arm tightens slightly around me, and I feel his gaze settle on my face—sharp, assessing, like he’s trying to read something beneath my calm.
I keep smiling.
“Are you okay?” he asks quietly.
I nod. “I’m fine.”
He studies me for another beat. “You’re not planning anything, are you?”
I laugh softly, light and pleasant. “No.”
His grip firms. His voice drops. “Don’t do anything stupid, Sienna.”
The word lands exactly where he intends it to—small, diminishing, familiar.
I stop moving.
“Father,” I say calmly, still smiling for the people watching, “father-daughter dances are usually about love. Or memories. Or pride.” I tilt my head, meet his eyes. “Since you’ve chosen to use this moment to threaten me instead, I think I’m done.”
His expression hardens. A warning flashes in his gaze.
I don’t wait for permission.
I step back, gently disengaging from his hold, and incline my head politely like the dutiful daughter I’ve perfected playing. Then I turn and move through the crowd toward the back of the hall.
It takes longer than I expect.
People keep stopping me—hands on my arms, kisses on my cheeks, congratulations spilling from mouths I don’t recognize. Friends of friends. Business partners. Strangers celebrating a marriage they think they understand.
I smile for all of them.
I thank them.
I let them believe whatever story they want.
By the time I finally reach the quieter edge of the room, my cheeks ache from smiling—and my resolve feels sharper than ever.
“Sienna?”
I turn at the sound of Vivian’s voice. She’s hurrying toward me, concern written plainly on her face. Elara Chang, Roman Rusnak’s wife, is right beside her.
“Are you okay?” Vivian asks, pulling me into a hug before I can answer.
I melt into her arms despite myself. For just a second, the weight slips—the expectations, the watching eyes, the performance. My throat tightens. I want to cry. I don’t. I can’t.
“I’m fine,” I say, steady enough.
Vivian pulls back but keeps her hands on my arms, clearly not convinced.
Elara smiles warmly. “I haven’t told you yet—you look beautiful in this dress. Truly.” Her eyes flick over me with appreciation, not judgment. “And congratulations on your marriage. Welcome to the family.”
“Thank you, Elara,” I reply, meaning it more than I expect to.
Vivian glances around. “This place is insane. Your parents didn’t hold back at all.”
I huff a quiet laugh. “That would require restraint.”
