Sneak peek?
Micah's Point Of View
"What time is it?"
Karl and I both laughed. "It's time for you to be fucked," I say.
Her eyes widen and she looks at the two of us. I'm not sure if she's scared or if she's just unsure. I know we're going to have t...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
As I sat in the solitude of my room, the cream-colored envelope lay heavy in my hands. The Rossi crest, a symbol of power and prestige, seemed to mock me with its golden sheen. It wasn’t just an invitation; it was a summons into a life I never asked for.
My father’s voice, deep and commanding, broke the silence. “Amara,” he said, and I could feel the weight of his expectations bearing down on me. “Have you considered my proposal?”
I looked up at him, my heart racing. “Father, why must I go to them? I'm still in college, and our families… they’ve never mixed.”
He stepped closer, his figure towering over me, a dark silhouette against the pastel walls of my sanctuary. “It’s not about what you want, Amara. It’s about what’s necessary. You will be the advantage we need against Rossi Enterprises.”
I felt small, insignificant under his gaze. “But isn’t there another way?” My voice was barely a whisper, a futile attempt to sway his iron will.
“There is no other way,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You will do this for the family. For our legacy.”
My resolve crumbled. I knew there was no escaping his grasp. “Yes, Father,” I murmured, my voice hollow. “I will do as you command.”
A cruel smile touched his lips. “Good. Remember who you are, Amara. You are a Greco, and you will fulfill your duty.”
As he left, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The reflection showed a young woman, her innocence a stark contrast to the world she was about to enter. I was a Greco, yes, but at what cost?
The door clicked shut behind my father, leaving me alone with the echo of his demands. I stared at my reflection, the golden crest on the envelope casting a shadow over my face. It was more than just a symbol; it was a shackle, a reminder of the life I was bound to lead.
I sank onto the edge of my bed, the softness of the duvet a stark contrast to the hardness in my chest. Anger simmered within me, not just at the latest command, but at a lifetime of obedience. I was tired—so tired of being the good daughter, the silent witness to my mother’s quiet suffering.
Every failed meeting, every lost deal, I could see it in my mother’s eyes—the price she paid for being married to a man like my father. And now, at twenty, I felt like a prisoner in my own life, a modern-day Cinderella trapped in a never-ending cycle of expectations.
I closed my eyes, wishing for a fairy tale ending, for a prince to break through the thorns and wake me from this nightmare. But deep down, I knew the truth. There would be no magical kiss, no royal savior to whisk me away. This was my reality, and I had to face it alone.
With a deep breath, I opened my eyes and picked up the envelope. If I was to be a pawn in my father’s game, then I would play my part. But I promised myself one thing—I wouldn’t lose who I was in the process. I wouldn’t let the Greco gold tarnish my spirit.
