"Knock!" The trunk hit the floor hard enough to rattle the teacups on the sideboard.
"Get them in. Faster." Stefanie's laugh clipped the room. Two servants dragged racks of designer dresses like they were preparing a bridal boutique for a queen.
Ainsley sat up on the couch, hair half-braided, phone buzzing with a message from Zaid. She blinked twice and lowered her voice to a calm that felt deliberate.
"What is all this?" she asked.
Stefanie stepped forward, heels tapping, eyes wide with the kind of entitlement that smelled like perfume. "It's about time you learned to say thank you," she said. "Mother made the calls. Patterson wants a face for the engagement gala. Our face."
Ainsley let her hand trail over the fabric of a blush dress. She wore a college hoodie under a robe and a smudge of last week's dorm coffee on her palm. The clothes looked like armor someone else handed her to wear.
"You want me to be sold," Ainsley said. No tremor. Just the sentence, clear and direct.
Stefanie's mouth dropped open. "Sold? Don't be dramatic. It's a favor. You will be grateful."
Ainsley laughed softly, the sound nothing like panic. "Grateful to be pawned off for their headlines? To stand beside a man I've never met while he smiles and signs a deal that erases my life? No."
Stefanie's smile curdled. "You will obey. This was settled. You don't get to be picky
