C1 The protest

"I won't do it, Dad! You can’t force me!"

I slammed my hands on the mahogany dining table. The silver cutlery rattled. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.

My father didn't even look up from his tablet. His face was pale, his eyes sunken from weeks of sleepless nights. "You don't have a choice, Elena. It’s already decided. The papers are being drawn up as we speak."

"Decided?" A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "My marriage is decided? I’m twenty years old! I’m supposed to be enjoying my youth, not being sold off like a piece of property!"

"It is not selling you off!" my father snapped, finally looking at me. His voice cracked with desperation. "It’s a merger. A strategic partnership. Alexander Sterling is the biggest shareholder in our company. If he pulls his shares, we go under. The family name will be dragged through the mud. We will lose everything. The house, the business... everything."

"Then let it go under!" I yelled, tears stinging the corners of my eyes. "Why do I have to pay for your business mistakes? You lost millions, Dad! Not me!"

My mother sat at the end of the table, silently weeping into a silk handkerchief. She wouldn't even look at me. She knew exactly what this was. A transaction.

Alexander Sterling.

The name alone sent a chill down my spine. Everyone in the city knew who he was. He was the thirty-five-year-old billionaire CEO of Sterling Enterprises. The media called him the Ice King. He was ruthless in the boardroom, emotionless in public, and completely untouchable. He didn't do scandals. He didn't do romance. He was a machine wrapped in an expensive, tailored suit. [1]

And my father wanted me to marry him. A man fifteen years older than me. A man who probably didn't even know I existed.

"He is thirty-five, Dad!" I pleaded, lowering my voice, trying to sound logical. "He’s a grown man. A cold, ruthless billionaire. Why would he even want to marry a twenty-year-old student? It doesn't make sense! Why did he agree to this?"

"Because it keeps our businesses closer," my father said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "He agreed to clear our family's multi-million dollar debt in exchange for your hand. He gets total control of our remaining shares, and he secures a wife to satisfy his board of directors. It’s purely business to him."

"Purely business," I whispered.

My stomach churned. I was a bargaining chip. A line item on a balance sheet to fix my father's mistakes. Alexander Sterling didn't want a wife. He wanted a contract. And he was compensating my father handsomely for it.

"He will be here in one hour for dinner," my father announced, standing up from the table. "Go upstairs. Change into something appropriate. Wipe those tears off your face and look presentable."

"No," I said flatly.

My father paused, his jaw tightening. "What did you say?"

"I said no." I stood up, backing away from the table. "I’m not playing along with this twisted game. You want to sell me? Find someone else. I’m leaving."

I didn't wait for his response. I turned on my heel and bolted up the stairs to my bedroom. My hands shook as I grabbed a duffel bag from my closet. I threw in a few pairs of jeans, some shirts, my laptop, and my passport. My chest heaved as I zipped the bag shut. I was going to my friend's apartment. I would figure out the rest later, but I was not going to sit at a dinner table and be handed over to a thirty-five-year-old stranger.

I grabbed my bag, threw it over my shoulder, and marched toward my bedroom door.

I grabbed the handle and twisted.

It didn't budge.

I twisted it again, harder this time. The metal clicked, but the door remained firmly shut.

Click.

The heavy sound of a key turning from the outside echoed through the wood.

"Dad!" I slammed my fists against the door. "Dad, unlock this door right now! You can't keep me here!"

Through the thick wood, my father’s muffled voice sounded tired, but resolute. "I’m sorry, Elena. But I can't let you ruin this. The Sterling family driver just called. Mr. Sterling's car has just entered the gates. He is arriving now. You will stay in there, you will calm down, and you will come down when you are ready to be a dutiful daughter."

Footsteps walked away from the door.

"Dad! Dad!" I screamed, banging my fists until my knuckles throbbed.

Silence filled the hallway. I was locked in.

Down below, through my bedroom window, the deep rumble of an expensive engine echoed through the driveway. I rushed to the glass and looked down. A sleek, midnight-black Maybach pulled up to the front steps.

The driver stepped out and opened the back door.

My breath caught in my throat. I couldn't see his face clearly from the second floor, but a tall, broad-shouldered man in a flawless dark suit stepped out into the night

air.

Alexander Sterling had arrived. And I was trapped.