Chapter 2- Sold off, in the name of marriage

The gala had ended hours ago, but the echoes of the night lingered in Isabella's mind as she sat alone in her room. Adrian Blackwell's presence had been like a dark tide, sweeping into her carefully controlled life and leaving a storm in its wake. Even after her aunt had pulled her away, Adrian's gaze had seemed to follow her, a silent promise lingering in his eyes.

Isabella tried to dismiss him from her mind. Men like him—men with that sort of power and magnetism—were always trouble. Her mother had warned her once, years ago, to avoid the wolves in their world. She had learned too late that her own family housed predators in disguise.

As she drifted off to sleep, she imagined herself in a life far away from her uncle and aunt's clutches, free to choose her own path. But dreams were fleeting, and reality had a way of dragging her back into its ruthless embrace.

A sharp knock jolted her awake. Groggy and disoriented, she glanced at the clock—4:30 a.m. Her heart pounded as she forced herself up, dread pooling in her stomach. Only her uncle would summon her at this hour.

She opened the door to find one of the household staff waiting, her expression unreadable. "Your uncle wishes to speak with you in his office, Miss Monroe."

Isabella's stomach twisted. "At this hour?"

The servant nodded but offered no explanation. Bracing herself, Isabella pulled on a robe and slipped her feet into slippers, moving through the dark corridors with an unease that only grew with each step. She reached her uncle's office and paused outside the door, inhaling deeply before knocking.

"Come in," came Victor's cold voice.

Steeling herself, Isabella entered. Her uncle sat behind his massive desk, his sharp features illuminated by the dim light of a single lamp. His expression was hard, calculating, and next to him sat none other than Adrian Blackwell.

Isabella's breath hitched. Adrian's presence here, at this hour, felt wrong, ominous. She forced herself to meet his gaze, only to find his expression unreadable—a mask of calm that did nothing to hide the intensity lurking beneath.

"Sit down, Isabella," her uncle ordered, his tone brooking no argument.

Isabella obeyed, her hands clenching in her lap as she glanced between the two men. The silence stretched, each second tightening the coil of anxiety within her chest.

Victor finally broke the silence, his voice sharp and businesslike. "You know how important our family's reputation is, Isabella. And maintaining our wealth—our power—requires certain sacrifices."

She nodded cautiously, unsure of where this was leading. "Yes, Uncle."

"Good. Then you understand that everything we do is for the family, for the Monroe name." His eyes narrowed, assessing her. "Tonight, an opportunity presented itself. A rather lucrative one."

A chill ran down her spine, and she shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. "What...what kind of opportunity?"

Victor's lips curved in a faint, humorless smile. "Mr. Blackwell has expressed an interest in...acquiring a partnership with our family. A binding one."

Her gaze flicked to Adrian, whose face remained impassive. A sense of dread began to build as she realized what her uncle was implying.

Victor leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with a cold satisfaction. "You'll be married to Mr. Blackwell, Isabella. Tonight's meeting was merely a formality."

Her heart skipped a beat, her mind reeling. "Married? You can't be serious. I haven't even agreed to this. I don't even know him."

Victor's expression hardened. "Your opinion on the matter is irrelevant. This alliance benefits the family, and you will do as you're told."

"No," she whispered, the word slipping out before she could stop herself. "This is my life. You can't just sell me off like...like some kind of commodity."

Her uncle's gaze turned icy. "You will not speak to me in that tone. I've spent years providing for you, keeping you clothed, sheltered. This is how you repay me?"

Isabella's chest tightened, anger and desperation warring within her. She turned to Adrian, searching his face for some hint of humanity, some trace of decency that might stop this madness. But his expression remained impassive, his gaze unyielding.

"This isn't right," she said, her voice trembling. "I'm not a pawn for you to bargain with."

Victor's jaw clenched. "Enough, Isabella. You will comply with this arrangement, or I will ensure you have nothing. You forget, without me, you're penniless. A nobody."

She swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words. She had no one else, nowhere to go. Her life, her freedom—everything she had was tied to her family's wealth and power. And her uncle knew it.

Adrian finally spoke, his voice a smooth, measured tone that sent a shiver down her spine. "I understand your reluctance, Isabella," he said, his gaze fixed on her. "But this arrangement can be...mutually beneficial."

His words felt like a trap, laced with a dangerous promise she didn't fully understand. She looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of compassion, but found only a cold, calculating gaze.

"You have a choice, of course," Adrian continued, his voice soft but unyielding. "You can choose to defy your uncle. But understand that I don't take rejection lightly."

There was something in his tone—a quiet threat that left her feeling both fear and a strange thrill she couldn't explain.

Victor leaned back, his expression smug. "You see, Isabella, this isn't a negotiation. You'll marry Mr. Blackwell, or you'll be left with nothing. No inheritance, no place to live, no resources. Consider this a...kind of mercy."

Her fists clenched, and she struggled to keep her composure. She wanted to scream, to tell her uncle that he couldn't do this to her.