The ballroom went dead silent.

Harry's arrogant smile vanished. His outstretched hand froze in midair, making him look ridiculous.

A low gasp spread through the guests. Whispers broke out at once. Hundreds of eyes moved between Ciel's rigid back and Harry's stunned face.

Harry yanked his hand back. The blood drained from his face. His jaw clenched so tightly the muscles jumped under his skin. He was still trying to look calm, still trying to maintain the image of a polished future politician.

Eleonora gripped the stage railing until her knuckles turned white.

"Ciel Miller!" she snapped. "Have you had too much champagne? Stop speaking nonsense this instant!"

Ciel raised her chin and met Eleonora's glare.

"I have never been more sober in my entire life, Mrs. Chavez."

A sharp laugh cut through the tension.

Karina Chavez, Harry's younger sister, pushed to the front of the crowd. She crossed her arms, her designer heels clicking against the floor.

"Oh, please," Karina sneered. "You follow Harry around like a stray dog every day. Now you're playing hard to get? This is a cheap trick to get his attention. It's sickening."

Several socialites covered their mouths and laughed softly.

They all believed Ciel was only throwing a desperate tantrum.

Harry heard Karina's words, and the tension in his shoulders eased. His smirk returned. He convinced himself that Ciel was only trying to make him jealous.

On the stage, Peregrine lifted his cane and struck it against the floor.

The room fell silent again.

He stared down at Ciel. His gaze was heavy and suffocating.

"Do you understand what rejecting this arrangement means for the Miller family name, Ciel?"

Ciel's hands curled into fists. Her nails pressed into her palms.

"The honor of the Miller family does not require me to sacrifice my marriage to maintain it, sir."

Harry finally stepped forward. He moved behind her, close enough for her to smell his expensive cologne.

"I can forgive your little outburst tonight, Ciel," he said loudly, making sure everyone heard. "As long as you apologize right now."

Ciel's stomach turned again.

She slowly turned her head and looked him in the eye.

"Your arrogance makes me physically sick, Harry. I have absolutely zero feelings for you."

The words struck him like a slap.

Harry's eyes darkened with rage. His chest rose and fell heavily.

Peregrine's face hardened. Ciel had humiliated the Chavez family in front of New York's elite.

"If my grandson is not good enough for you," Peregrine said coldly, "then what exactly do you want from the Chavez family?"

Ciel took one slow breath.

This was her only chance to rewrite her fate.

She looked around at the curious, mocking faces, then fixed her gaze on Peregrine.

"If the family insists on fulfilling its promise to take care of me," she said, "then I am willing to marry into the Chavez family."

The crowd murmured in confusion.

Eleonora opened her mouth, ready to mock her.

Ciel did not give her the chance.

"The man I wish to marry is the war hero who was severely injured overseas. I want to marry Deacon Chavez."

The name landed like a grenade.

The ballroom seemed to lose all air.

Harry stared at her as if she had gone insane.

"Are you crazy?" Karina shrieked. "You want to marry a vegetable? The doctors said he's never waking up!"

Peregrine's pupils tightened. His grip on his cane grew so hard the veins in his hand stood out.

Eleonora froze for a few seconds.

Then something calculating flashed in her eyes.

Ciel stood in the center of the storm, calm and unbroken.

She waited for the patriarch's answer.

The silence lasted for ten long seconds.

Only the faint hum of the central air conditioning remained.

Peregrine slowly walked down from the stage. His leather shoes struck the floor one step at a time, each sound heavy as a countdown.

He stopped inches from Ciel. His tall frame blocked the chandelier light and cast a shadow over her.

He bent slightly, his voice low enough for only her to hear.

"Deacon's name is not a bargaining chip for you to use in a lover's quarrel, little girl."

Ciel did not step back.

"I am completely serious, sir," she whispered. "General Deacon saved my family in the past. I want to repay that debt."

A few feet away, Eleonora's mind raced.

Deacon had an enormous trust fund. If Ciel married that comatose man, Eleonora could use her as a puppet and plant people inside Deacon's estate. It would remove Ciel from Harry's path and give them access to Deacon's assets.

Her expression softened into false compassion.

She stepped beside Peregrine and placed a hand on his arm.

"Perhaps this is God's will, Peregrine," Eleonora said gently. "Maybe a devoted wife is exactly the miracle Deacon needs to wake up."

Harry heard her and let out a furious growl.

He lunged forward and grabbed Ciel's wrist. His fingers clamped down hard, pressing into her bones.

"Are you out of your mind?" he hissed. "You're going to ruin your life just to get my attention?"

Pain shot up Ciel's arm.

She looked at his hand, then at his face.

Her eyes went cold.

She yanked her wrist free.

"Watch your hands, Harry," she said loudly. "Show some respect. I am about to become your aunt-in-law."

The word aunt struck Harry hard.

The color drained from his lips. A sudden, nameless emptiness slammed into his chest. He did not understand the pain, so his mind turned it into rage.

Peregrine watched Ciel's resolve. Then he looked at Harry, who was losing control in public.

The patriarch made his decision.

He struck his cane against the floor again and turned toward the crowd.

"If Ciel has such deep affection for our hero, Deacon," Peregrine announced, "the Chavez family is happy to honor this noble devotion."

The guests erupted into chaotic whispers.

Under Peregrine's pressure, they quickly forced smiles and began clapping, offering fake congratulations.

Harry stood frozen.

He stared at Ciel's profile. She looked relieved.

His heart tightened painfully, as if an invisible fist had closed around it.

He wanted to break something.

Ciel bent her knees slightly and gave Peregrine a flawless curtsy. Her gratitude was precise and controlled.

Her goal was achieved.

She refused to stay another second in that toxic room.

Ciel turned and walked toward the heavy mahogany doors.

The crowd parted for her.

Their eyes followed her with curiosity, pity, and a strange kind of awe.

Harry's body jerked forward. Instinct screamed at him to chase her.

Eleonora grabbed his arm with bruising force.

"Control yourself," she whispered sharply. "Do not make a scene over a woman who has made herself useless to us."

Ciel pushed the doors open.

Cool hallway air hit her face, clearing away the smell of perfume and alcohol.

She walked to the elevator and stared at her reflection in the polished steel doors.

Young. Healthy. Still untouched by years of depression and illness.

She exhaled shakily.

The elevator chimed. The doors opened.

Ciel stepped inside, turned around, and watched the doors close.

Harry, the ballroom, and that nightmare were shut out of her life.

The early morning sun cut through the blinds of Ciel's Manhattan apartment, laying golden lines across the hardwood floor.

Ciel woke from a deep, dreamless sleep.

For a moment, she stayed still in bed and simply felt her own body.

No chronic pain. No heavy pressure on her chest. No fear of waking up inside that marriage again.

Her eyes grew hot with relief.

Then her iPhone buzzed sharply on the nightstand.

She reached for it.

Agatha.

Eleonora's senior personal assistant.

Ciel answered.

"Miss Miller," Agatha said, clipped and superior. "Madam requires your presence at the Hamptons estate immediately to discuss the wedding schedule."

"I'll be there."

Ciel hung up before Agatha could say more.

She threw off the covers and dressed quickly in a beige tailored pantsuit. Simple. Practical. No softness for anyone to exploit.

Outside her building, a black Lincoln Navigator waited by the curb.

Ciel slid into the back seat and watched New York blur past the tinted window. Her heart stayed steady.

An hour later, the SUV passed through the wrought-iron gates of the Chavez family's Hamptons estate.

A maid led her through a long hallway lined with Persian rugs and old oil paintings, then into Eleonora's sunroom.

The room was painfully bright, filled with exotic plants and antique French furniture.

Eleonora sat on a velvet sofa, trimming white hydrangeas with silver shears. She did not look up.

"To avoid unnecessary complications," Eleonora said, as if discussing household maintenance, "the wedding will take place on June 3rd. Next month."

Ciel's heart lifted.

The rushed date was exactly what she wanted.

Her face remained blank. She lowered her head slightly, pretending to submit.

"Understood."

Eleonora sighed, clearly disappointed that Ciel did not cry or beg.

She waved one hand. "You may leave."

Ciel turned and walked out.

As she moved through the corridor, she turned a corner and saw Harry coming from the opposite direction.

He wore a custom navy suit. The moment he saw her leaving his mother's wing, his expression darkened.

He stepped directly into her path, blocking the narrow corridor with his body.

His hands slid into his trouser pockets. A cruel sneer twisted his mouth.

"What's wrong, Ciel?" Harry asked. "Did you run here first thing in the morning to beg my mother to cancel that ridiculous stunt? Did reality finally set in?"

Ciel stopped and looked up at him.

The eyes that once held desperate love for him were now still and cold.

"I came to finalize the date," she said. "The wedding is set for June 3rd."

Harry's sneer cracked.

He stepped closer, invading her space.

"Stop acting. This little strategy to make me jealous is pathetic."

His cologne hit her nose.

Ciel's stomach tightened with revulsion.

She stepped back half a pace, making the distance clear.

Harry saw the disgust in her eyes.

It was real.

Fury flashed across his face. He reached out, aiming to grab her chin and force her to look at him.

Ciel reacted instantly.

She turned her head aside and struck his hand away.

Smack.

The sound echoed through the empty hall.

Both froze for half a second.

Ciel lowered her arm. The back of her hand stung red from the force.

Then she looked up at him, her gaze sharp and unshaken.