The dining room was dressed to impress—long table, crystal glasses, polished silverware that caught the light just right. But Amara didn't care about the setup. Her stomach was in knots. Not the romantic kind. The kind that came from walking into enemy territory in heels.
She sat quietly, posture straight, the picture of grace. But her fingers twisted her napkin beneath the table like it owed her money.
Elias sat beside her, cold as usual, cutting into his steak like it had personally offended him. No glances. No smiles. Just silence and indifference.
Across the table, Xavier sipped his wine slowly, dark eyes glinting with something unreadable. He didn't say a word either, but his presence felt loud—like he was waiting for something to explode.
And at the head of the table sat Mrs. Knight. Elegant. Composed. Deadly, in a socialite kind of way.
"Amara, dear," Mrs. Knight began, voice as smooth as the wine in her glass, "you look stunning tonight. Truly." Her red lips stretched into a smile—tight, rehearsed, just wide enough to be considered polite.
Amara smiled back, tight-lipped. "Thank you, ma'am."
Mrs. Knight's smile didn't budge, but her mind? Oh, it was racing.
Of course she looks stunning. She better. My son's name is on the line. If she's going to play the part, she should at least look the part. Sweet girl, but too soft. Too naive. I hope she doesn't think this marriage is about love. That would be… adorable.
Amara's mother, Diana, chimed in with a soft chuckle. "She was nervous about tonight. You know how girls are at this age."
Mrs. Knight's eyes sparkled with something cold. "Oh, I completely understand. I was the same at her age—only with less… social media." She let out a light, elegant laugh.
Back when women knew when to shut up and play the role, she thought smugly.
Elias didn't speak. He didn't need to. The distance between him and Amara was enough of a statement.
Mrs. Knight noticed, of course. She glanced at her son, then back at Amara.
"Elias, darling, your fiancée looks lovely. Don't you have anything to say?"
Elias didn't look up. "She already knows she looks nice."
The silence that followed was the awkward kind—the kind that made people suddenly fascinated by their wine glasses.
Amara pressed her lips together, eyes fixed on her plate. I could walk out now. Just grab my bag, thank them for the chicken, and leave.
But Diana, ever the eager peacekeeper, leaned forward. "We're truly grateful, Mrs. Knight. This union means a lot to our family."
Mrs. Knight's smile turned saccharine. "Oh, I'm sure it does."
Especially when you know exactly what my son stands to inherit once he marries. Clever girl, Diana. But not clever enough.
Xavier raised a brow, eyes flicking between everyone like he was watching a particularly bad play. He leaned toward his glass and muttered, "Such a happy little family gathering."
Amara caught it. So did Mrs. Knight. She narrowed her eyes at him but said nothing.
Amara shifted in her seat, the tension hanging heavy on her shoulders. Her cheeks ached from fake smiles. Her gut told her none of this was genuine. Especially not Mrs. Knight's approval.
It wasn't a dinner—it was a trap wrapped in linen napkins and chicken jus.
The dinner table is unusually quiet, aside from the clinking of silverware and the occasional murmur of polite conversation. Everyone seems to be playing their part in this carefully orchestrated charade, but for Amara, the air is thick with tension. Mrs. Knight, Xavier and Elias' mother, is the first to break the silence with her signature smile that never quite reaches her eyes.
She glances at the screen on her phone, her lips curling upward as she reads something. "Oh, look," she says, her voice light but laced with sarcasm. "A picture of you two went viral, Amara. How cute! Is that your first kiss?"
The words hang in the air like a taunt. Her smile widens, but it's not warm—it's sharp, calculated. She knows exactly what she's doing, poking at Amara's discomfort with no care for the consequences.
Amara feels a heat rise in her cheeks, her stomach twisting in knots. She doesn't know how to react—should she laugh it off? Ignore it? Or call her out for being so petty and cruel? The pressure is suffocating, and her hands curl into fists beneath the table, nails digging into her palms.
She forces a tight smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes. The last thing she wants is to give Mrs. Knight the satisfaction of seeing her flustered. But the words keep ringing in her head: Is that your first kiss?
Amara stands abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. Her breath is coming in shallow gasps now, anger bubbling up with each second that Mrs. Knight keeps talking. She can't stand it any longer. The stares from Elias, Xavier, and their father, who's silent as usual, only make the situation worse. Without a word, she pushes back from the table and heads for the door, her legs moving faster than her mind can catch up. She doesn't look back.
Behind her, Mrs. Knight's laugh echoes through the room. It's fake, high-pitched, like she's enjoying every second of Amara's discomfort. She doesn't stop. She's still smiling, still enjoying the attention, completely unaware—or perhaps uncaring—of how much she's hurting Amara.
Xavier's voice breaks the moment of awkwardness, his tone more serious than usual. "Mom, why would you say that?" His eyes are locked on Mrs. Knight now, the concern in his voice genuine but also tinged with disbelief. "That wasn't necessary."
Mrs. Knight's smile only grows. "Is it because she's your first kiss?" she asks, almost sing-song, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Come on, Xavier, lighten up. It's just a joke."
The room falls silent. Xavier says nothing in response, his gaze drifting downward, lips pressed tightly together. He doesn't even look at Amara as she storms out.
Amara's footsteps echo in the hallway, each one carrying the weight of her frustration, her anger, and the sting of humiliation. She can't believe Mrs. Knight just said that—can't believe how little she cares about her feelings. It feels like a slap to the face. Her body is shaking, her emotions too raw to contain.
As she steps outside into the cool night air, her mother, Diana, follows behind her. Amara doesn't even need to look back to know it's her. Diana's footsteps are soft, but the quiet urgency in them speaks volumes. "Amara, wait!" her mother calls, her voice laced with concern. "Please, come back inside. This isn't the time for this."
Amara stops, turning to face her mother with a sharp breath. "You don't get it, do you?" she spits, her voice rising in anger. "They're using me, Mom. Can't you see it?"
Diana's face softens, and for a moment, there's a flicker of something like guilt in her eyes, but she quickly masks it with her usual calm. "Amara, calm down," she says, stepping closer to her. "They're not using you. They're just… doing what's best for everyone. You'll see. You just have to trust us."
Amara feels a sharp pain in her chest, the kind that comes from feeling utterly betrayed. "Trust you?" she repeats bitterly, her voice shaking with the weight of her emotions. "You're doing this because it's good for you. It's not about me, is it?" She steps back, arms crossed over her chest. "You're just using me to get them what they want."
Diana's smile falters slightly, but she tries to keep up the act. "That's not fair, Amara. You know I love you."
But Amara's had enough. "Love me?" she scoffs, tears welling in her eyes. "You wouldn't be doing this if you really cared about me. You think I don't see it?"
Suddenly, Diana's face hardens, and her eyes flash with anger. "So, now you're yelling at me?" she asks, her voice rising with each word. "After everything I've done for you, this is how you repay me?"
Amara takes a deep breath, trying to hold herself together, but the dam inside her breaks. "I'm not your puppet, Mom. I'm not Elias' tool for some stupid deal. Don't act like this is all for my good. It's not."
Diana glares at her, anger radiating off her like a storm about to break. "You're ungrateful, Amara. Do you have any idea how much this is costing us?" She steps forward, her expression cold. "How much it's costing me?"
Amara opens her mouth to retort, but before she can say anything, Diana turns sharply and walks away, not bothering to look back. Her heels click against the pavement, her anger evident in her stiff posture.
Amara stands there for a moment, her chest heaving with emotion. She's shaken, but she's also resolute. She knows what she's worth—and it's not what they're telling her. She's done playing the part they want her to play.
Elias pushed back his chair and stood up abruptly, his usual calm demeanor cracking slightly. "I have to go," he said in his business-like tone. His gaze flickered briefly to Mrs. Knight, but there was no warmth in his eyes—just a cold, distant resolve. He was always like this, never really present, always prioritizing work, business deals, and whatever else kept his attention.
Without waiting for a response, he grabbed his coat from the back of the chair and made his way to the door, not sparing anyone another glance. He was out, just like that. Gone.
The moment he left, the tension in the room thickened. Mrs. Knight, still sitting at the table, let out a slow breath and shifted in her seat. Her smile had returned, but it was even more insincere now, as if she was trying to act like nothing had happened. As if Amara hadn't just walked out in frustration.
She looked around at everyone. "Well, I guess this means dinner's officially over, doesn't it?" she said, her voice still dripping with fake sweetness.
The silence was deafening. Xavier looked at her with confusion in his eyes, his gaze intense. "Mom, why would you say that?" he finally asked, frustration creeping into his voice. "You know she's upset. Why would you bring that up in front of her?"
Mrs. Knight raised a brow and offered a sarcastic laugh. "What? Am I not allowed to joke around? It's just a kiss. And, let's be honest, it's not like it's a big deal. Don't tell me you're upset because of the attention this has gotten." She glanced at Xavier as if searching for approval, but her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. It was like she was playing a game, and Xavier was meant to follow her lead.
Xavier's face tightened. "Is that really all you think it is? A joke?" He crossed his arms, his frustration growing. "That kiss meant something. Don't treat it like it's some kind of joke for you to get a laugh."
Mrs. Knight didn't respond right away. Instead, she took a slow sip from her wine glass, her lips curling into that familiar, fake smile. "Is it because she's your first kiss, Xavier?" she said, her words heavy with sarcasm, as if testing him, as if trying to provoke a reaction.
Xavier's silence spoke volumes. His eyes narrowed, and for the first time, there was a flicker of emotion in his otherwise unreadable face. But instead of arguing, he kept quiet. The weight of her words hung in the air, and it felt like the whole room was suffocating under the tension.
Mr. Knight, who had been glued to his phone the entire time, barely acknowledged the conversation. He didn't even look up, his attention consumed by whatever business matter he was focused on. His indifference was just as frustrating as everything else. It was like he was a part of the problem, but he couldn't care less about what was happening right in front of him.
Meanwhile, upstairs, Amara was pacing in her room, her mind racing. The more she thought about what Mrs. Knight had said downstairs, the angrier she became. "Your first kiss," she muttered to herself, rolling her eyes. The nerve of them, to reduce it to something so trivial. She knew that the picture going viral was just another way to control the narrative, to make her seem insignificant, like she was just another gossip headline for them to laugh about.
Then, there was the cold reality—her engagement to Elias. She had been nothing more than a pawn in this whole scheme. It didn't matter that she had feelings, that she was struggling with everything that had been happening. All they cared about was their business deal, their image, and whatever Elias needed to get ahead.
As she stood there, fuming, she heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching. Her mother, Ms. Diana, knocked gently on the door.
"Amara?" came her voice, soft but insistent. "Can we talk?"
Amara didn't answer right away. Her chest was tight with frustration, but she couldn't let her mother see her like this. It would only make things worse. So, with a deep breath, she walked over to the door and opened it just a crack.
"What do you want, Mom?" she asked, her voice low, almost emotionless.
Ms. Diana stepped into the room, her expression concerned but still masking a certain detachment. "Sweetheart," she began, her tone calming, "you need to understand that this marriage is important for the family. It's about securing our future."
Amara's lips curled into a bitter smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "You mean securing your future, right? Because that's all this is to you. A business deal. A way to make everything easier for you, but not for me."
Her mother's face softened, and she reached out to place a hand on Amara's shoulder. "Don't say that. We're doing what's best for you. Elias is a good man. He'll take care of you."
Amara jerked away from her touch, the anger building inside her like a storm. "Take care of me?" she spat. "You mean use me. They've been using me from the beginning, and you can't even see it, can you?" She was almost screaming now, her voice cracking with emotion.
Ms. Diana looked taken aback, her eyes widening. "Amara," she began, her voice rising with frustration, "don't you dare yell at me. Do you understand?"
But Amara wasn't done. She stepped forward, her fists clenched at her sides. "No, Mom. Can't you see it? They're using me like some kind of tool to get what they want. Elias needs this marriage to get something he wants in business. You're just helping them."
Her mother's face turned red, her temper flaring. "How dare you speak to me like that? I'm your mother!" she snapped, her voice rising in anger.
Amara took a step back, her heart pounding. "Maybe I wouldn't speak to you like that if you actually cared about what I think."
Ms. Diana glared at her for a moment, her expression hardening. "You need to learn respect. Don't ever yell at me again."
Amara's shoulders slumped, the fight draining from her. She didn't want to keep yelling, but it was so hard to hold it in. "I just want to be free from all of this," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Without another word, her mother turned on her heel and stormed out of the room. The door slammed shut behind her, and Amara collapsed onto the bed, the weight of everything pressing down on her. The anger, the hurt, the frustration—it was all too much. And through it all, she was left to pick up the pieces of a life she never asked for.
Xavier, who had been listening from the hallway, stood frozen for a moment, his heart heavy with guilt. He could hear the muffled voices of his parents downstairs, pretending everything was fine, as if Amara's pain didn't matter. As if he didn't matter. And maybe, just maybe, he was starting to understand just how deep this game really went.
As the front door clicked shut behind them, Xavier immediately pulled off his jacket and threw it carelessly onto the sofa. The air was thick with tension, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. Mrs. Knight was already heading for the kitchen, but he couldn't let it go.
"You seriously think you can talk to her like that?" Xavier's voice was low but sharp, cutting through the room. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes narrowed as he glared at his mother.
Mrs. Knight paused mid-step, turning to face him with a raised eyebrow, her lips curling into a smirk. "Talk to who, darling? You know how these things are done. You think you're the first to get caught up in a business deal?" She crossed her arms, her eyes never leaving his, the fake smile still plastered on her face. "This is what happens when you have to play the game."
Xavier's hands curled into fists, the impulse to lash out almost overwhelming. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. "That's the problem, isn't it? You're so caught up in your little business deals that you don't even see the human side of this."
He couldn't stop the bitterness from seeping into his voice, and it hit him hard — his mother had always been more focused on the advantages than the people. He could feel his heart racing, his anger pushing him to say more. His fingers tightened, nails digging into his palm, as he tried to hold back the words that would only make things worse.
Mrs. Knight tilted her head, still wearing that infuriating smile. "What's the big deal, Xavier? She's just a pawn in the plan. No one cares about her feelings; it's all about what's necessary to move forward."
Xavier shook his head, his chest tightening. He could feel his pulse pounding in his ears. "That's not how it works, Mom. You're talking about a person, not a tool. Amara's not just some… thing we use to get what we want."
Mrs. Knight's smile faltered for a moment, but she quickly replaced it with the same cold look. "You're too soft for this world. And honestly, Xavier, I'm starting to wonder if you're really cut out for this family business."
The sting of her words hit him harder than he expected. His stomach twisted, the reality of his mother's coldness sinking in. Was he really just being weak? Was that all he was to her now? A failure? His hands shook, and he fought the urge to yell, to throw something, anything, to release the pressure building inside him.
"I'm not weak," he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to her. His voice was almost a growl, but his mother didn't hear it.
Mrs. Knight sighed, her tone dripping with faux sympathy. "Sweetheart, you just need to get over this emotional nonsense. It's nothing personal. It's business."
Xavier couldn't stand it anymore. "Business? Is that all you see people as? Just things to manipulate, move around like chess pieces?"
Her eyes narrowed, her lips pulling into an even tighter smile. "Don't start questioning me, Xavier. You wouldn't want to test my patience."
Xavier turned away, raking a hand through his hair in frustration. His heart was racing, and his entire body was on edge. He was so tired of this—tired of pretending that everything was fine, when all he wanted to do was break free from this suffocating life. But where could he go? How could he escape from the relentless pressure his family placed on him?
His mother's voice pulled him back to reality. "You need to focus on what's important," she said, her voice clipped. "Don't make this harder than it has to be."
Xavier turned toward her, his eyes cold, and his jaw set. He wanted to scream, to argue, to fight back. But what good would it do? Mrs. Knight wasn't the kind of person who could be reasoned with. She would just keep pushing him until he broke. And that's exactly what she wanted.
"I'm not going to stand by and watch you destroy her," he finally said, his voice soft but firm. "I don't care what you say, I won't let Amara be another pawn in your game."
His mother didn't respond immediately. She only looked at him, her eyes flashing with something dark—disappointment, maybe, or something even worse. But he didn't care anymore. He was done being her puppet.
He turned and walked toward the door, not waiting for her to say anything more. But as he reached for the handle, he heard her voice again, low and almost inaudible.
"You'll regret this, Xavier. This is bigger than you."
He paused, a flicker of doubt crossing his mind, but he pushed it aside. "No, Mom. You're the one who's going to regret it."
With that, he stepped out into the hallway, the weight of his decision settling heavily in his chest. He wasn't sure what would happen next. He didn't know how everything would unfold. But for the first time in a long while, he felt like he was finally taking control of his life.