I froze, slowly turning my head. Edmund, dressed in a black, tailor-made suit, was standing right there, his presence chilling the air.

His gray eyes were locked on my hand, still on the bartender's chin.

"Chloe, I just remembered my mom's waiting for me. I gotta go!" My friend's face went white. She grabbed her purse and practically sprinted out of there.

Edmund stepped closer, his gaze shifting from my hand to the young bartender.

"Get out."

The bartender practically scrambled away. The other patrons sensed the danger and cleared out, leaving our section of the club completely empty.

Edmund closed the distance, his long fingers wrapping around my wrist like a vice.

"Tell me what you were just doing."

I yanked my hand away, glaring back at him. "What I do is none of your business."

Before I could even react, he moved. One second I was standing my ground, the next I was thrown over his shoulder. I beat on his back and screamed at him, but he ignored me and strode out of the club.

"Let me down! You're insane!" I pounded his back with my fists, but his muscles were hard as rock.

"Edmund Schroder! Put me down!"

He didn't listen. He shoved me into his car, got in beside me, and locked the doors, trapping me in the small space.

"And here I was this afternoon, thinking you'd finally learned to behave. Guess it was all an act."

"Have you forgotten the Schroder family rules?" He turned to face me, his voice tight with fury. "The Don's wife is forbidden from setting foot in bars or casinos."

Memories from my past life flooded back—endless days and nights shackled by those rules, the suffocating despair of fighting back only to be crushed again and again.

"And," his eyes swept over my tight, red slip dress with disgust, "you are forbidden from wearing inappropriate clothing. When you get home, you will write the family rules one hundred times."

"Enough!" I finally snapped, my voice shrill. "Stop trying to cage me with your rules! I'm not marrying you!"

The air in the car went still.

Edmund's face hardened, the chill in his eyes deepening.

"What did you just say?"

I realized I'd said too much. If he found out my plan now, my escape in three days would be impossible.

"I... I was just angry," I forced myself to calm down, looking away. "You're always so controlling. Of course I'd get upset."

He stared at me for a long time, so long I thought he'd seen through my lie.

"It better have been," he finally said, his voice still ice. "Or you know the consequences."

The car stopped in front of my villa. Edmund took off his suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders. It smelled of his cold, sharp cologne.

"Throw these revealing dresses away," he commanded. "And don't forget to start on the rules tomorrow."

I gritted my teeth, got out of the car, and watched his black Cadillac disappear into the night. Old anger and new hatred boiled up inside me. I ripped his jacket off and threw it into a nearby trash can.

"You stuffy, old-fashioned bastard. Just three more days. I can handle three more days."

The moment I stepped inside the villa, I saw the living room was brightly lit.

My father sat in the main armchair, my stepmother Claire sipped tea beside him, and Laura sat quietly on the sofa in a white dress. It was a tribunal, and I was the one on trial.

Three pairs of eyes fixed on me.

"Look at the state of you!" my father shot up, pointing at my red dress. "Have you no shame? Do you even know what time it is?"

I ignored him, kicked off my heels, and started for the stairs.

"Wait," Laura said softly. "Sister, did you really give the engagement to me? I still can't believe it..."

She looked overwhelmed with gratitude, but the glint of triumph in her eyes gave her away.

I stopped and turned to face her perfectly crafted innocent expression. "What's the matter?" I sneered. "Don't you love picking up my trash?"

"Alessia!" my father roared. "How dare you speak to your sister like that!"

"Stepsister," I corrected him. "Let's be clear about our blood ties."

Claire's face tightened, but she maintained her high-society composure. "Alessia, that was uncalled for. Laura has always looked up to you. You shouldn't hurt her like this."

"Besides," my father continued, a smug look on his face, "Mrs. Schroder is much more pleased with Laura. She thinks Laura's gentle and poised nature is better suited for the family matriarch. It's too late for you to have any regrets now."

Regrets? I almost laughed out loud. If I wasn't so afraid of blowing my cover, I'd tell them I thank my lucky stars for this every single day.

"That's right, Alessia," Claire added with a syrupy-sweet, venomous tone. "With a personality like yours, what decent man would ever want you?"

I turned to my scheming stepmother. "Aunt Claire, you should worry about your own daughter. It would be a real shame if her new husband sent her packing, wouldn't it?"

"You—" Claire's face turned purple with rage.

I ignored them and went up to my room.

The next morning, while I was still lazing in bed, a maid knocked to say Edmund was here. I dragged myself out of bed, threw on a loose silk robe, and went downstairs.

Edmund was sitting in the living room. When he saw my disheveled state, his brow furrowed.

"Are the rules written?" he asked, getting straight to the point.

I flopped onto the sofa. "My hand hurts. I can't write."

His face darkened. "Alessia, don't test my patience."

"I really can't," I held out my hand for him to see. "Look, I can barely hold a pen."

As he stood there silently, Laura descended the stairs, clearly having spent hours getting ready.

"Mr. Schroder," she said shyly, handing him a framed canvas. "I painted this portrait of you last night. I hope you like it."

Edmund took the painting and studied it, a flicker of appreciation in his eyes. "This is very well done." Then he turned to me, his gaze filled with disappointment. "You should take a page out of your sister's book."

I'm about to make his wish come true, I thought with a cold smile. He'll have his respectful fiancée soon enough.

"Now, go get changed," Edmund ordered. "You're coming with me to a family dinner tonight."

"I'm not going," I refused flatly. "Take Laura. You seem to think she's more suitable anyway."

"You are the one I announced as my fiancée," he said, his voice laced with an authority that left no room for argument.

Those words hit me like a needle to the heart. Just like last time, he was marrying me because it was arranged by our elders. If he'd had a choice, he would have picked Laura from the start.

This time, I was going to give him what he wanted.

Laura immediately jumped in, her voice soft. "Maybe sister isn't used to such formal events. Why don't... I go with her?" Before I could protest, she grabbed my arm and pulled me upstairs. "Sister, let me help you with your makeup."

The second the door closed, Laura’s gentle facade vanished, replaced by a smug, triumphant smirk. "You saw it, didn't you? Edmund definitely prefers me."

I leaned against the door, watching her little show with amusement. "Is that so? Then why didn't you just tell him the bride has been switched?"

Laura's expression faltered.

I raised an eyebrow and stepped closer. "You don't have the guts, do you?" I taunted. "You're afraid he'll call off the whole thing if he finds out. Afraid he won't want you."

My words hit a nerve. Laura exploded. "That's not true!" she hissed. "When Edmund finds out, he'll be relieved he's getting the better wife! I'm just waiting to give him a surprise on our wedding day!"

She glared at me, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "You better keep your mouth shut. If you ruin this for me, I'll make you regret it."

I smirked. "Don't worry. I can't wait for you to be his problem."

In the end, I was dragged to the party.

Two hours later, we arrived at The Wilson, Chicago's most luxurious hotel. I had deliberately chosen a flashy purple dress with a plunging neckline and a thigh-high slit that sparkled under the lights. Laura, in contrast, wore a modest black gown. The two of us couldn't have been more different.

"Dammit," Edmund's face clouded over the moment he saw me. "I told you to change, not to find something even more revealing."

"This is the most conservative thing in my closet," I said, feigning innocence. I was enjoying getting under his skin.

Laura, ever the peacemaker, added softly, "Mr. Schroder, please don't be angry. Sister has always liked these kinds of outfits, even if they don't exactly fit the Schroder family's... standards."

Her words sounded like a defense, but she was just pouring gasoline on the fire. Sure enough, heads began to turn. Whispers rippled through the crowd.

"Is that the future Mrs. Schroder?"

"Looks like Don Edmund has his work cut out for him..."

Edmund's expression grew darker.

When the music for the opening dance began, he was expected to take his partner to the floor. His eyes swept over my dress, then he turned and walked straight to Laura.

Laura feigned shock, hand to her chest. "But... shouldn't you be dancing with Alessia? She's right here."

"It's fine," Edmund said without looking back. "This will be a good chance for her to learn what real grace looks like."

His words were a slap in the face. The murmurs grew louder. Everyone was enjoying the show at my expense.

But I didn't feel humiliated or jealous. Just tired of it all.

Watching the picture-perfect couple in the middle of the dance floor, I turned and walked out to the terrace. The cool night air was a welcome relief from the stuffy ballroom. I leaned against the railing, looking up at the stars, feeling surprisingly calm.

The click of heels sounded behind me.

"What's wrong? Did you come out here to cry?" Laura glided onto the terrace, her face flushed from the dance. "You see? Edmund doesn't like your type at all."

I kept my eyes on the sky. "And?"

"And you should know your place," she said, coming to stand beside me, her chin held high. "In a few days, I'll be the lady of the Schroder house. You'd do well to show me a little respect..."

I turned to look at her, her face twisted with smug satisfaction. "Are you done? Because I'm going back inside."

"What's the hurry? I'm not finished," she snapped, her voice growing shrill when she saw she couldn't get a rise out of me. "You know, you're just as pathetic as your mother. She lost to my mother, and now you're losing to me. It seems failure just runs in your blood."

At the mention of my mother, my eyes turned to ice.

"What did you just say?"

Drunk on her own victory, Laura kept going. "I said, you and your mother are both pathetic loser—"

Before she could finish, I lunged forward and grabbed the collar of her dress. With a vicious shove, I pushed her toward the decorative fountain behind her.

"Ahhh—"

With a terrified scream and a loud splash, Laura plunged into the water.

"Help! Cough, cough... Help me!" she thrashed in the fountain, her white dress clinging to her body, her hair plastered to her face. She was a complete mess.

I stood at the edge, looking down at her, feeling nothing but cold satisfaction.

"Next time you insult my mother, the fountain will be the least of your worries."

Just then, hurried footsteps approached from behind.

"What's going on?"

It was Edmund's voice, sharp with anger and concern.