Sarima's POV
Gunshots.
Again.
I wake up to the sound of bullets echoing through the Vixens' estate. It isn't new to me—here, it is routine, like breathing. I stare at the ceiling for a moment, letting the noise settle in the background as I adjust to the chaos that defines my life.
Another day in this so-called family.
I used to think I was adopted because they wanted a child. Something simple. Something normal.
But that wasn't the truth.
They already had three sons.
I got adopted because my mother wanted a daughter… and she didn't want to go through the stress of childbirth again.
As I grew older, I realized something far worse.
My father didn't accept me out of love.
He accepted me as an exchange.
And now… that exchange comes due.
I sit on my queen-sized bed, staring at the object resting beside a letter.
A thorn bangle.
I pick it up slowly, my fingers brushing against its sharp edges.
"This guy is crazy," I mutter as I throw both the letter and the bangle into the waste bin.
For two years… he has been sending things like this.
And for two years… he has never stopped.
The worst part?
I never see him.
Not once.
But he always finds a way to enter and leave the most guarded place in the manor like it is nothing.
I exhale sharply and stand up.
Tonight isn't about him.
Tonight is about me being handed over to a man I don't know.
A dinner.
A deal.
A marriage.
And another life I don't choose.
I move quickly, taking a rushed bath before slipping into a black dinner dress. I apply light makeup, fix my hair, and step into my parents' Mercedes-Benz.
Normally, I would drive myself.
But my father makes it very clear.
We arrive together.
We look like a perfect, loving family.
Even if we aren't.
I sit across from my parents, silently waiting.
Then—
"Sarima."
"Yes, Dad."
"We are going to the Houstons' residence," he says firmly. "I expect you to behave… ladylike."
I feel a small sting in my chest, but I don't show it.
"I understand."
The car stops in front of a massive compound.
White.
Everything is white.
"It looks so… pure," I murmur under my breath as we step out.
A butler leads us inside, and we are guided into a dazzling dining room. A long, intricately carved white table sits beneath a grand chandelier.
"Mr. Vixen… welcome," Mr. Houston says as he shakes my father's hand.
"The pleasure is ours," my father replies, his smile polite—but fake.
A reminder.
Stay composed.
Stay perfect.
"Please, have a seat," Mrs. Houston adds, gesturing for us.
Servants pull out our chairs, and the atmosphere shifts.
From polite…
To business.
The discussion starts with company profits.
But I already know where this is going.
Me.
The conversation slowly drifts toward my future.
Toward my wedding.
"Sarima," Mrs. Houston calls, her gaze sharp. "I hear you are in your third year at university… will you be able to manage your studies alongside marriage plans?"
Her tone feels like she is waiting for me to fail.
"She will," my mother replies instantly. "She is a Vixen. We don't struggle with responsibilities."
The room grows tense.
Silent.
Heavy.
Business.
Control.
And something darker underneath.
Servants begin serving food, all of them wearing masks.
Strange.
But I don't question it.
Instead, I turn my attention to him.
The man I am supposed to marry.
He doesn't speak.
Not once.
And yet…
He is already staring at me.
Intently.
I freeze.
A sudden realization hits me—
That scent.
Spicy.
Familiar.
No…
I choke slightly. "Ech—"
A servant quickly offers me water, but my hand stops mid-air.
That scent…
I have been smelling it for two years.
Everywhere.
In my room.
In places no one should be able to enter.
My pulse quickens.
I reach for the glass—
But it slips from my hand.
Shattering.
Silence.
Everyone turns to look at me.
I stand abruptly, my heart racing.
The servant moves to clean the glass, but I am not looking at him anymore.
I am focused on something else.
That scent.
It is closer now.
Closer than ever before.
My gaze drops—
And I freeze.
The servant slowly lifts his head.
Our eyes meet.
And for the first time…
I see it.
Recognition.
Intent.
Danger.
A smirk curls on his lips.
And just like that…
I know.
He is here.