Annalise sat rigidly on the upholstered velvet chair, her body stiff with tension as servants fluttered around her like butterflies, weaving silk and gold onto her like she was some ancient sacrificial offering. The scent of lavender and rosewater clung to the air, thick from the oils being rubbed into her skin earlier. Her stomach twisted.
The room she sat in was almost suffocating in its grandeur. The damask wallpaper shimmered in the evening light, and a massive chandelier of crystal and gold hung like a crown from the ceiling. Each movement caused the diamonds in the chandelier to tinkle, echoing her own discomfort as one servant adjusted her gown while another arranged the layers of the tulle skirt. Her dress was a deep sapphire, tight at the bodice, the silk cool and foreign against her skin, and the hem flowing around her like the ocean.
Alessandra hovered nearby, her eyes gleaming. Though her words were light, her eyes betrayed a deeper desire. "He will choose her," she murmured to herself, adjusting one of the off-shoulder straps of Annalise's dress. "He must."
Annalise bit her lip again, so hard that the metallic taste of blood coated her tongue. The pain grounded her more than any luxury in the room could. Her hair had been styled into a loose chignon, but strands had been allowed to fall delicately across her face, softening her look. She had fought against the makeup, but even so, her skin now glowed with a hint of peach blush and her lashes curled long, casting shadows on her high cheekbones. The mirror in front of her showed a girl she barely recognized: regal, expensive, and heartbreakingly resigned.
"Bring the jewelry," Alessandra called.
Within seconds, the room flooded with servants carrying trays—glimmering gold, diamond chokers, ruby-drenched necklaces, delicate pearl earrings, and watches that likely cost more than an entire city block. They shimmered under the light, competing for attention, and Annalise felt her breath catch at the sheer display of wealth.
Her neck was soon heavy with a diamond collar that caught the candlelight and split it into tiny rainbows. "You look divine," Alessandra whispered.
But Annalise felt like a porcelain doll in a glass box, dressed to be admired and then forgotten once the display was over.
Her heart jumped when the door creaked open again.
Aston stepped in, his tall frame cutting through the perfume-saturated air. He wore a suit, tailored to perfection, his presence immediately chilling the room.
He let his eyes linger.
"Perfect. Enchanting," he breathed, his gaze sweeping over her like he was admiring a well-painted masterpiece rather than his own daughter. "You are indeed an epitome of beauty."
Annalise's hands curled into fists in her lap. Her nails dug into her palms, the only sign of resistance she could muster.
Aston smiled, seemingly pleased by the fire still burning in her eyes. "I'm proud you took your mother's mesmerizing eyes. They make you... alluring."
She didn't respond.
He walked toward her, brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear with the familiarity of someone who believed he had the right to touch her. She recoiled slightly, but he didn't seem to notice—or didn't care.
Finally, he and Alessandra left, speaking in hushed voices as they stepped out, their words muffled by the thick mahogany door as it shut behind them.
And then, she was alone.
The room became unbearably quiet, the silence ringing in her ears. Her reflection stared back at her with haunted eyes.
She looked like royalty. She felt like prey.
Her throat was tight. The very air in the room seemed to weigh more. The scented oils, the candlelight, the lace against her skin—all of it made her want to scream.
She was being sent to him.
Caden Valtore.
Everything about him unsettled her. The man at the gala had already made her heart stall in fear, and now she was to stand before him again—not as a passerby, not as a stranger, but as someone dressed to appeal to him.
And now she knew.
He was a vampire.
Not just any vampire, but a pureblood. The heir to the Valtore Empire. The man her father wanted her to marry, seduce, and kill.
Her hands trembled as she placed them on the polished vanity. She could barely feel her fingers through the silk gloves.
"What am I doing?" she whispered to herself.
Her breath fogged the mirror.
The gala flashed in her mind—her running, breathless, away from danger, only to stumble upon something even darker.
Caden , if only she had known.
A sharp knock echoed through the room, bouncing off the polished marble walls like a subtle warning bell. Annalise exhaled deeply, rolling her eyes with a mix of defiance and nerves. Her hands trembled slightly as she smoothed the soft silk of her gown, trying to will her thudding heart into silence. The knock came again, this time followed by an annoyed voice that instantly made her stomach churn.
"Would you hurry up already? We don't have all day," Wendy snapped from the other side of the door, her voice laced with disdain.
Dragging her feet like a condemned soul to the gallows, Annalise stepped out of the room and descended the grand staircase. The soft clink of her diamond-encrusted heels against the marble steps echoed ominously through the silent hallway. As she reached the bottom, her eyes locked with Wendy's, who stood with her arms crossed, glaring daggers as if Annalise were the root of all her problems.
Alessandra stood nearby, her expression unreadable, while Aston was already dressed immaculately in a midnight blue tailored suit, his face composed in a mask of pleasantness that didn't fool Annalise for a second. Without exchanging words, the group filed into a sleek black limousine, its interior rich with the scent of aged leather and fresh peonies, and departed for the meeting place.
The ride was suffocating. Annalise stared out the tinted windows, watching the evening cityscape of Virelia blur past. The skyscrapers stood like silent sentinels, the glow of the setting sun casting long golden shadows across the streets. Her fingers gripped her purse tightly in her lap. Despite the luxury that surrounded her, the truth weighed down on her chest like a slab of cold iron. Her mother's life was a pawn, and she was the offering.
They arrived at one of the most prestigious seven-star hotels in Virelia—a towering architectural marvel made of ivory stone and framed with golden glass. Its facade shimmered under the soft lights, casting a regal glow that reflected off the mirrored driveway. Uniformed staff bowed as they stepped out of the car.
Annalise barely had time to take in the opulence as they were immediately escorted inside. The air was thick with expensive perfume and the subtle scent of fresh roses. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, each one refracting light like stars frozen in time. A grand hallway stretched out before them, lined with red velvet carpeting and golden wall sconces that bathed everything in a warm, golden hue.
They were led into a private dining room. The moment Annalise stepped inside, her breath caught. The room was extravagantly decorated. Intricate gold moldings ran along the walls, and a massive oil painting of a moonlit garden hung above an ornate fireplace. A long dining table stood at the center, dressed in an elegant lace runner, fine china, and crystal goblets that glistened under the glow of the chandelier. Floral centerpieces filled with black roses and white lilies gave the room an intoxicating, haunting aroma.
Before she could fully absorb the beauty, a commanding voice called out, snapping her attention to the far side of the room.
"Aston!"
It was a woman's voice—powerful and filled with authority. Annalise turned slowly to see the speaker. An older woman stood at the head of the room. She was dressed immaculately in a tailored ivory suit, a diamond brooch glittering at her shoulder. Her silver hair was pulled into a regal bun, and though age lined her features, she still radiated beauty and grace. Her cheekbones were high, her eyes a piercing gray that seemed to see through everything.
Aston bowed deeply, the first genuine gesture Annalise had seen from him that resembled respect.
"Lady Constencia," he greeted with a gracious smile.
So this was her. The infamous grandmother of Caden Valtore. The matriarch of the most feared family in Virelia. Annalise tried to swallow, but her throat was parched. She stood frozen for a moment, her heart pounding loud enough to echo in her ears.
Constencia turned her eyes on her. Those silvery-gray orbs locked on Annalise with a hawk-like intensity that made her want to squirm. And yet, there was no cruelty in her gaze—only scrutiny.
"So this is her," she murmured, almost to herself. Then a small smile curled her lips, proud and calculating, but she said nothing more.
Several well-dressed attendants entered quietly and began pulling chairs for them. Annalise was guided to a seat beside Alessandra, while Aston sat across from them. Wendy, much to her annoyance, was placed at the far end of the table.
The scent of roasted herbs and rich wine filled the room as servants began pouring drinks and placing delicate appetizers in front of them. But Annalise could barely touch her food. Her hands remained clenched on her lap, her gaze lowered, even as she felt the weight of Constencia's constant observation.
The silence was suffocating. The ticking of the antique grandfather clock in the corner of the room sounded like thunder to her ears. Annalise shifted uncomfortably, wishing the ground would just open and swallow her whole.
She prayed—a silent, desperate prayer—that Caden would not show up.
Please let him reject me. Please let him find me unworthy.
Because if he didn't, then everything would be set in motion. And there would be no turning back.
Constencia finally broke the silence. "The others will be here shortly," she said smoothly, taking a sip of her wine. Her voice was calm but commanding, the kind