A face appeared in the mirror, hovering right over her shoulder.

"There you are. I was starting to think you'd spaced out completely." Ashlyn Hahn. Her smile was sickeningly sweet, but her fingers dug into Adina's shoulders with a controlling, uncomfortable pressure. "Seriously, Adina, you need to snap out of it. Zane has been planning this for months."

The sight of that face sent a violent wave of nausea through Adina. The taste of bile rose in her throat, hot and sharp. She swallowed it down, her knuckles turning white where she gripped the edge of the vanity.

"Hurry up," Ashlyn urged, her tone shifting into that familiar, passive-aggressive whine she always used to get her way. "He has a huge surprise planned out in the plaza. If you get cold feet and humiliate him today, I will never forgive you. You know how hard he works to make you happy. You're so lucky he puts up with your moods."

Adina met Ashlyn's gaze in the mirror. The warmth that used to reside in her own eyes was dead, leaving something flat, cold, and terrifyingly calm in its place.

She knew the "surprise." A public proposal. A spectacle designed to corner her, to use the cheering crowd as a weapon to lock her into a future that would eventually kill her.

Adina stood up, her movements stiff but deliberate. Ignoring the flicker of confusion on Ashlyn's face, she brushed off the girl's hands and pushed past her.

"Adina? Where are you going? You're supposed to look surprised!" Ashlyn hissed, trailing after her.

Adina didn't answer. Her feet carried her toward the backstage exit, each step a hammer blow against the past. She pushed open the heavy double doors and stepped into the bright afternoon sun.

Just as she remembered.

The campus plaza was packed with graduates and their families. In the center of it all, Zane Knight was on one knee, holding a massive bouquet of red roses. A giant LED screen behind him displayed a slideshow of their "happiest moments."

He held a microphone, making sure every single person in the square was watching.

"Adina," Zane's voice boomed through the speakers, dripping with a manufactured, self-deprecating charm. "Babe, I know you said you wanted to wait until after we established our careers. I know you're scared of commitment." He chuckled, playing to the crowd. "But look at all these people. I pulled every string to make this perfect for you. I did all this for you. You can't say no to a guy who loves you this much in front of the whole school, right?"

It was a masterclass in moral kidnapping. He was painting himself as the devoted romantic and her as the difficult girlfriend who owed him a "yes."

The crowd, eating it up, began to chant. "Say yes! Don't break his heart! Say yes!"

A bitter smile touched Adina's lips. Last time, she had felt pressured, overwhelmed, and guilty. Last time, she had cried tears of forced gratitude and walked straight into hell.

This time, her eyes scanned the crowd, looking right past the kneeling man.

And then she saw him.

Leaning against a sleek black Bentley at the edge of the plaza, a man existed in his own pocket of silence. He was tall, dressed in a perfectly tailored dark suit, his presence an intimidating aura of power and absolute indifference.

Caden Sinclair. CEO of the Sinclair Group. The ruthless billionaire her family had originally arranged for her to marry. The man she had foolishly rejected for "true love."

He was her lifeline.

Zane's confident smile faltered as Adina walked toward him, her expression entirely unreadable. "Adina?" he prompted into the mic, a hint of genuine irritation bleeding through his charming facade. "Come here, babe."

The crowd held its breath.

Adina walked right past him. She didn't even glance down at the roses.

The chanting died instantly, replaced by a wave of shocked gasps and confused murmurs. Zane's smile froze on his face, his mouth slightly agape, his microphone lowering. Ashlyn, who had rushed out of the building to watch the trap spring shut, stopped dead in her tracks, her jaw slack.

Adina didn't stop until she stood directly in front of the Bentley. Directly in front of Caden Sinclair.

He looked down at her, his dark eyes holding a flicker of detached amusement. He had been watching the entire circus.

She took a deep breath. The air felt clean, new. She looked up at this cold, powerful stranger and gave him a smile that was both dazzling and desperate.

"Take me with you," she said, her voice clear and steady enough to cut through the stunned silence of the plaza.

Caden Sinclair's eyebrow arched, the only sign of his surprise. He studied her for a fraction of a second, then gave a subtle nod to his driver, who immediately opened the rear passenger door.

Without a backward glance, Adina slid into the plush leather interior, shutting the door on the chaos. On the manipulation. On the past.

Caden followed her in. The car pulled away from the curb with a silent, smooth grace.

Through the tinted window, she saw the last image of her former life: Zane Knight, still on one knee, his knuckles white around the stems of the roses, his jaw tight as public humiliation hardened into furious rage. And Ashlyn Hahn, staring after the Bentley in pure, unadulterated shock.

Her revenge had begun.

The silence in the Bentley was a physical weight. The only sounds were the whisper of leather as she shifted and the faint, powerful hum of the engine. Adina stared out at the city rushing by, a wave of relief so profound it left her dizzy.

She was safe. For now.

"That was quite a performance."

Caden Sinclair’s voice was a low, resonant baritone. He didn't look at her. His gaze was fixed on the traffic ahead.

Adina turned to face him. His eyes were dark, almost black, absorbing all the light in the car.

"Performance?" she replied, her voice cool. "No. That was a choice."

She leaned closer, deliberately invading his personal space. The air grew thick. She could smell his cologne—a clean, cold scent of sandalwood and something sharp, like gin.

"I need a fiancé," she said. "And you, Mr. Sinclair, happen to be the man my family conveniently arranged for me."

He finally turned his head. His gaze moved over her, a slow, appraising inventory that made her feel like a line item on a balance sheet.

"So you use me to humiliate your boyfriend, and now you want to cash in on our arrangement?"

This was her one shot. She reached out, her fingers trailing lightly over the sleeve of his expensive suit.

"Why not? I believe I'm a good investment. Beautiful, talented, and a soon—to—be famous designer."

His eyes darkened. His hand shot out, closing around her wrist. His grip was unyielding—not painful, but absolute. The heat of his skin was a shock against hers.

"Don't play games with me, Adina," he warned, his voice a low growl. "I despise women who think they can climb into my bed with cheap tricks."

A flicker of fear tried to surface. She crushed it. This was nothing. She met his stare with a brilliant smile.

"Oh, I'm not cheap. In fact, I'm very expensive." She let the words hang in the air. "The Miller family heiress, remember?"

A subtle shift in his expression. She had reminded him this was business. A merger of two families.

Sensing the change, she stopped pulling against his grip. He let her go. She sat up straight, folding her hands in her lap, the picture of demure propriety.

"Of course," she said, her voice now soft. "I wouldn't dare play games with you." She looked up at him through her lashes. "From now on, you are my dear sponsor. I'll be good."

"Sponsor?" He repeated the word slowly. The corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk that held no humor.

Adina nodded earnestly. "Yes. You provide protection. I provide the Miller connection and a fiancée who will play her part perfectly. It's a fair deal."

He was silent for a long moment, his dark eyes dissecting her. She could feel him calculating the risks and rewards.

She held her breath.

Finally, he spoke. "Fine. The engagement stands. My assistant will contact your family."

A wave of relief washed over her, so intense she felt light—headed. She had done it.

She gave him a dazzling, grateful smile. "Thank you, my dear sponsor." She deliberately emphasized the word "dear."

His eyes narrowed with a silent warning, but he said nothing more. He turned his attention back to the city, the deal closed.