Chapter 8
The four of them sat around the dining room table. The crystal chandelier cast a warm, mocking glow over the lace tablecloth.
Eleanor proudly set a massive roast turkey in the center. She immediately began carving the best, thickest slices of meat and piling them onto Arlington's plate.
Arthur stood up, raising a crystal flute filled with expensive champagne. "To Caroline and Arlington! To a beautiful future!"
Caroline mechanically lifted her glass. She took a sip. The expensive bubbles tasted like battery acid burning down her throat.
Halfway through the meal, Arthur set his fork down. The jovial atmosphere vanished, replaced by a stern, business-like expression. He looked directly at Caroline.
"Since the two of you are clearly so committed," Arthur announced loudly, "there is no reason to delay. We need to set a wedding date immediately."
Caroline choked on her water. She slammed her glass down, coughing violently. Her eyes went wide with pure panic.
"Dad, no!" she gasped, waving her hands frantically. "We just started dating! It's way too fast to even talk about a wedding!"
Eleanor frowned, slapping her napkin onto the table. "Nonsense, Caroline. True love doesn't need to wait. Your father and I got married three months after we met!"
Arlington sat quietly, sipping his red wine. His dark eyes watched Caroline struggle, a cruel, entertained glint in his gaze.
Caroline reached under the table and kicked Arlington's shin as hard as she could. She shot him a desperate glare, silently begging him to stop this.
Arlington didn't even flinch. Instead, he reached over, grabbed her hand resting on the table, and brought her knuckles to his lips.
"Actually, Arthur," Arlington said, his voice dripping with fake devotion, "I couldn't agree more. I am eager to make her my wife as soon as possible."
Arthur slammed his hand on the table in delight. "Excellent! Let me get the calendar right now!"
Caroline snapped.
She shoved her chair back so hard it screeched against the hardwood floor. She stood up, her chest heaving.
"I am not getting married this year!" she yelled, her voice echoing in the dining room. "I need to focus on my career! I am not doing this!"
The room went dead silent. The temperature seemed to drop ten degrees.
Arthur's face turned a dark, angry purple. "Sit down, Caroline," he barked. "You are acting like a spoiled child. You constantly let good opportunities slip through your fingers. You find a man this exceptional, and you want to push him away? It's foolish!"
Eleanor's eyes filled with tears. "Caroline, please. Do you want to give us heart attacks? We just want to see you settled and safe. Why are you being so difficult?"
The words hit Caroline like physical blows. Her lungs constricted. She couldn't breathe. The invisible net Arlington had cast over her family was pulling tight, suffocating her.
She looked at Arlington. He was leaning back in his chair, swirling his wine, watching her breakdown with the calm satisfaction of a predator who had cornered its prey.
A wave of profound, agonizing betrayal washed over her. Her own parents had just sold her out to a monster.
Caroline lifted her head. The tears in her eyes dried up, replaced by a hot, burning fury.
She spun around and sprinted out of the dining room.
She ran up the stairs, threw open the door to her childhood bedroom, and slammed it shut. She twisted the lock until it clicked.
Downstairs, she could hear Arthur yelling about her disrespect, followed by Arlington's smooth, calm voice soothing her parents.
Caroline slid down the wooden door until she hit the floor. She pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs. She had never felt so utterly alone in her entire life.
Heavy, deliberate footsteps climbed the stairs. They stopped right outside her door.
Caroline held her breath.
Arlington's voice slid through the crack under the door, low and freezing cold. "You have nowhere left to run, Caroline."
She squeezed her eyes shut.
"Tomorrow morning," he commanded softly, "we go ring shopping. You will fulfill your duties as my fiancée."
The footsteps slowly walked away.
If everyone was going to force her into a corner, she was going to fight dirty. She needed to make this "wealthy banker" regret ever looking at her. She knew she couldn't bankrupt a man with his level of untouchable wealth, but she could absolutely make him bleed. She was going to humiliate him, drag him through the most ostentatious, excruciatingly expensive ordeal possible, and force him to publicly choke on his own arrogant promises. She would make this forced marriage so financially and socially inconvenient that he would realize she wasn't a submissive pawn he could easily control.
She crawled onto her bed, flipped open her laptop, and aggressively typed into the search bar: Most expensive luxury stores in Manhattan.
A plan began to form in her mind.
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