Chapter 1 Being Engaged

• Everything for the biggest night of my life is set. Music pulses through the entire property, drinks are flowing nonstop, and over a thousand guests are here for the party of the year—my birthday party. I smile as I check the security cameras, catching glimpses of the crowd below, while the final touches are being made to my hair. Tonight, I need to look perfect. This is my first birthday as an adult, and I’m determined to own it.
• "Everything’s ready, miss," the stylist says.
• "I need to look amazing," I reply, studying my reflection. "I don’t want them to notice the brands I’m wearing, just how well they fit me. I don’t want them asking who did my hair, but how stunning I look with it. Did you manage that?"
• "Absolutely, miss. You look breathtaking. Your style speaks for itself. We just enhanced what you already knew you had," she responds with a smile.
• I give a nod of approval, glancing once more at the mirror. Perfect. "You can go ahead and join the party if you want. It’s up to you."
• Leaving the room, I descend the stairs, and the moment I reach the bottom, a spotlight hits me. Cheers erupt as everyone breaks into "Happy Birthday," their applause echoing through the room. I take it all in, grinning to myself. More than half the university showed up at my vacation home, all just to celebrate me, and no one’s even thinking about tomorrow’s classes.
• After all, my birthday is a concert where the most listened to singers come to give me a concert where I am the center of attention. So, who would miss something like that?
• “Happy birthday, Day.” says every person who approaches me.
• I’m popular, I’m rich, and I’m an only child. Life is perfect. No siblings to fight over the inheritance, a father who spoils me, and hundreds of people who would do anything just to catch my attention.
• If the center of the world is some random planet or satellite, then I’m the center of the universe for everyone here—at least that’s how my astrology professor would explain it. Wait… or is it astronomy? Do I even take astrology?** I wonder, briefly distracted as I accept gift after gift, congratulations pouring in from every direction.
• I brush off the thought and dive back into the fun, dancing and flirting with the cute guys at my party. Everything’s a blur of music and laughter. One of the bands pulls me up on stage, where the décor is filled with all the things I love, and we belt out my favorite songs together. The crowd cheers, and for a moment, it’s like I’m untouchable.
• That is, until I spot a group of men dressed head-to-toe in black, making their way through the crowd. They look totally out of place—no sense of fashion and clearly not here to party.
• Confused, I look for someone familiar and huff in annoyance when I see my father among them. My university classmates also recognize him and therefore, they back away in fear.
• “Get down from there, Day."
• “Daddy! Are you here to wish me a happy birthday?! You didn't have to come, we're having a great time here, daddy."
• “Get down now, Day. I need to tell you something."
• “Don't tell me you're going to give me the sports car I saw yesterday! Or you're going to give me the money to open the best nightclub in the world!” I shout excitedly and everyone cheers for it.
• "Day, come down right now. I need to introduce you to someone."
• “Daddy, they stopped giving people away like property ages ago. We’re in the 21st century,” I joke, and laughter ripples through the crowd.
• But my father, who’s usually all smiles with me, isn’t amused. His expression hardens as he walks toward me, climbing onto the stage. He takes the microphone from my hand, his eyes locked on mine with a seriousness I’m not used to seeing.
• "If you won’t come down, then I’ll just tell you from here," he says, turning toward the crowd that’s now hanging on his every word. "Friends of Day, thank you for being here tonight. I have a very important announcement to make—one I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to share."
• "Dad, what's going on?" I whisper, sensing that he looks too serious to be giving me a birthday present.
• "My daughter, who is no longer a teenager but a full-fledged adult from today, will be engaged to a great business partner, Ryan Volkova. So, let's give a big round of applause to the couple who will be getting married in two weeks," my father announces before applauding.
• Everyone looks at each other, while I try to process what my father has just said. Everyone claps slowly, not understanding what is happening, while I search my father's face for any sign of a joke.
• "Father... are you joking?"
• "No, dear. You are going to marry Ryan. So, get ready, in two weeks you will be Mrs. Volkova," my father says into the microphone, making sure everyone hears.
• "It can't be possible," I whisper, not knowing who the man the spotlight is searching for.
• "So, patiently await the wedding invitation. Have a good night," my father says before stepping down from the platform.
• Everything falls silent, and I react by running towards my father, who quickly leaves the place. I can only catch up with him as he is about to get into the car.
• "Father, what's going on? What did you mean just now?" I ask, concerned.
• "What I said, dear. You are getting married."
• "Why so suddenly and to someone I don't know?"
• "If you turn around, you can see me," a man behind me says, prompting me to turn and meet my supposed husband.
• As soon as I do, I notice the man has blue eyes that remind me of water with my favorite relaxing fragrance: bubblegum.
• "Hello, fiancée," the man says, looking like an old man.
• "Are you eighteen?" I ask, hoping to offend him, as it's obvious he looks like a thirty-year-old man.
• The man smiles, showing his dimples, and then shakes his head seriously.
• "No, Day. I am thirty-three years old."
• 'I knew it! He's too old to be my age,' I think to myself.
• Immediately, I turn to face my father.
• "You can’t marry me off to this old man, Father. He could be my dad!" I blurt out, louder than I intended. All around me, I can feel the eyes of my friends and my classmates burning into my back. The humiliation is real, and I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks.
• But my father doesn't even look at me. He turns instead to the man standing behind me—who I now realize is supposed to be my fiancé. "I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Volkova. My daughter... well, she's a bit unrefined. Still has some growing up to do."
• "Growing up? I’m eighteen!" I snap, trying to reclaim some dignity, but it's useless. I feel trapped, like a spectacle. My so-called fiancé, this Mr. Volkova, is standing there, completely unfazed by my outburst. And of course, he’s... ugh, he’s attractive—dark hair, sharp jawline, annoyingly perfect dimples when he smirks—but he’s also thirty-something! Way too old and definitely too stiff for someone like me.
• My father glares at me, voice colder than I’ve ever heard. "Then start acting like an adult, Day! You’re embarrassing yourself."
• Embarrassing myself? He’s the one announcing my freaking engagement in front of everyone I know, and I’m supposed to just go along with it?
• Before I can open my mouth to fire back, Mr. Volkova takes a step forward. His deep blue eyes, cool like ice water, fix on me, and for a split second, I freeze.
• "I can assure you, Day," he says smoothly, "this is happening. And running away isn’t an option."
• Who does this guy think he is?
• My heart pounds in my chest, but not in the way it’s supposed to when you meet your future husband. No, this feels more like... dread. Whatever this twisted setup is, I didn’t agree to it, and I have no clue why my father is forcing it on me.
• I glance over my shoulder at the crowd. Half the school is here. I invited them all to celebrate my birthday—this was supposed to be the best night of my life. Instead, it’s turned into a disaster, with over a thousand people now whispering and snickering about my humiliation. Perfect. My life isn’t just a mess, but also now a schoolwide joke.
• I whip back around to my father, desperation creeping into my voice.
• "Why are you doing this?" I demand, but his hard expression gives nothing away.
• Something tells me this is only the beginning of the nightmare.