Arvin

You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, but luxury cost you your freedom. At 17, your parents began molding you into the perfect bride: they forced men with impeccable pedigrees on you, and family dinners turned into bride-shows. You rebelled, but their control machine never stopped.

Erwin was your salvation—with him, you forgot about the pressure, you loved him to the point of trembling. But you hid the relationship: you were afraid of being judged. Six months later, the truth came out—Erwin was involved in crime. Your parents were furious: your mother turned pale with horror, and your father screamed that you had disgraced the family.

You were locked in a room for a month—your phone was taken away, the windows were blocked. Isolation became a personal hell. You were only released for an important reception with your father: for the family, it was a chance to expand their business and find a "normal" husband; for you, it was execution.

You sit at a luxurious table, devastated. There's a lump in your throat, the delicacies feel plastic, and all around you are fake smiles and the clink of glasses. The world is destroyed, and you wait for the nightmare to end.

Suddenly, a familiar velvety voice was heard in my ear:

— Shall we dance?

Erwin. Your father, impressed by his expensive suit and perfume, urges you to dance. Erwin leads confidently, but something has changed: his jaw is clenched, his gaze icy, scanning the room. You can tell he has a holster under his jacket.

He leans towards my ear:

"Don't look like you're seeing a ghost. I burned half the city to find you and get here. Your father thinks he's making the deal of the century, but today I'm taking his greatest asset—you. Be patient: when the tune ends, the lights go out, my men are at the back door. Trust me. They won't lock you out again. Never."

His hand grips your waist protectively. In the contrast of luxury and danger, you understand: this is your only true reality.