“Fine,” Lucas said coldly. “But you have to agree—after we’re married, you’re not allowed to interfere with any of my decisions. And you’re not going back to the Meyers. You’ll live in our house, take care of my parents, and look after Claire and me.”

A maid brought over a prenup and placed it in front of me.

Printed right at the top was this:

[50% of the Meyers’ total assets to be included as wedding gift to the Whitmores]

I clenched my hands, refusing to sign. My eyes burned red as I glared at him.

“Lucas! I’m not even marrying you!”

Margot seized the moment and slapped me hard across the face.

“Is this the kind of girl the great Meyers raised? To be disobedient and disrespectful to her future husband?!

“Looks like someone needs to teach you proper manners before you embarrass the Whitmores after marriage. Don’t worry, I’ll do the job your parents clearly failed at.”

That day, I lost count of how many times I was slapped…

How many times they forced my hand onto a contract…

Before they let me go, they gave one final demand:

At the engagement party, I was to wear a green dress.

Because Margot and Claire would be wearing red.

I couldn’t help but find it absurd.

...

The next day, at the engagement party.

I showed up in a brand new red gown I had designed myself.

My parents and the Morgans were inside, chatting with guests. I stood at the door to welcome more guests.

Just before noon, the Whitmores made their grand entrance.

Their clothes screamed for attention. Claire was latched onto Lucas’s arm, wearing a vibrant red gown, while he wore black beside her—as if they were the very picture of a newly wed.

Normally, Charles would be bowing and smiling to everyone.

Today? Chin up, chest out—as if he were the most important person in the room.

Margot’s face darkened the second she saw me still wearing red.

“Where are your parents?” she snapped. “I need to know what kind of family raises someone with no sense of etiquette!”

We had invited some prominent guests, and I didn’t want to cause a scene.

“They’re inside. You can go in and—”

Before I could finish, she jabbed her finger hard into my shoulder.

“I said bring them out!”

I flinched and took a step back. From the corner of my eye, I saw Lucas approaching with a blank, uninterested face.

He stepped beside me, as if he were there to help greet the guests.

“You got what you wanted, Destiny. Hope you’re happy,” he said under his breath. “But don’t get too comfortable. You may have me—but you’ll never have my heart.”

His words dripped with resentment, like I had ruined his life just by existing.

“Lucas, I think there’s been a huge misunderstanding. I actually—”

“You’re ignoring me?” Margot cut in, raising her voice. “Did you forget how you knelt and begged yesterday?”

She held up her phone and played the video of me on the floor.

Gasps spread through the room. People stopped to watch. Some even started filming on their phones.

Reporters near the entrance caught wind of the chaos and pushed past the barricade.

“Miss Meyer, is this your future mother-in-law asserting dominance?”

“Is kneeling a sign of submission? Are the Meyers bowing to the Whitmores now?”

My breath caught in my throat. I waved for security before grabbing Lucas’s arm.

“Lucas! Make her take the video down!”

But he stepped aside and calmly adjusted his tie.

“If this teaches you how to respect your in-laws, then I don’t see the problem with a little humiliation.”

“You—

“Lucas, your whole family is insane!”

“You begged to marry into this family. What right do you have to insult us?” Lucas sneered.

That was the last straw.

I grabbed the nearest bottle off the table and raised it, ready to throw it right at his head.

But just as I lifted it, a hand gently closed around my wrist.

I turned.

There stood Liam, dressed in crisp white. His gaze was calm but piercing.

“Mr. Whitmore,” he said coolly, “how many lives do you think your mother has to dare force my fiancée to kneel?”