Payton Moormeier

My life has never been easy. In my family, women are treated like servants, and only men have rights. That's how my father treated me and my mother. I thought things couldn't get any worse, but how wrong I was.
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Nine days ago I turned 18. My father, deciding I was old enough, decided to marry me off. I'd been groomed for this my whole life: to be an exemplary wife—cultured, well-mannered.
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Over the past week, five different families have come to our house to propose to me. All of them influential, with heirs—my future "potential husbands."
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The Murmayers family came to our house today. I'd heard of them, but we weren't acquainted. The Murmayers have a very successful business, literally an empire—making jewelry using precious stones. But that's not all they're famous for.
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The son of Chris and Joan Moormeier, Peyton is the state's most notorious womanizer. A frequent nightclubber, an eligible bachelor, and literally the object of desire for every girl in America. Peyton is 21 years old, handsome, brash, rude, and impossibly impudent.
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Throughout the entire time the Moormayer family was in our house, Peyton didn't just look at me—he assessed me. Like a commodity. His gaze was palpable, and I wanted to turn away. Cover myself with my hands as if I were naked before him.
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When the Murmayers left our home, my father announced his decision—to marry me off to Peyton. It turns out I really was a commodity—the Murmayers offered my father a fortune for me, even a new mansion. My greedy, avaricious, and terribly mercantile father sold me without a second thought. This didn't even surprise me, since all my life I'd heard the same thing from my father: "One day, you'll make us rich."
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‎This is how I became the daughter-in-law of the Murmayer family.
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We decided to have a wedding immediately, and of course, a lavish one. The wedding date is set for three days from now, but I have to move into the Murmayers' mansion tomorrow.
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In the evening I was packing my things when my mother came into my room.
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"Darling, leave your things.