The sound of my brothers hands slamming the table echoed through the room, loud enough that I felt it in my chest before I fully registered what had happened.
"That's insane," Lucas shouted. "You can't be fucking serious."
My grandfather didn't flinch. He sat at the head of the table with his hands folded neatly in front of him, expression carved from stone, like he'd already expected this reaction and prepared himself ahead of it.
I stayed quiet.
I always did, at least at first. Not because I didn't have anything to say, but because moments like this required listening before speaking. If I opened my mouth too soon, emotion would spill out, and I hated giving people that much of me, especially my grandfather who was a very cunning old man.
"No one in this family would agree to that," Noah said, pacing near the window. He ran a hand through his hair the way he always did when he was stressed, like he could physically shake the thoughts out of his head. "Everyone knows what kind of freak that man he is."
Caleb leaned back in his chair, arms crossed tight over his chest. He hadn't said anything yet, but I knew that look. The jaw set too hard. The eyes too sharp. He was boiling quietly, waiting for the right moment to explode.
And Ivy wasn't even here.
My cousin, the center of this whole mess, was somewhere else entirely, probably blissfully unaware that her future had just been decided in a room she wasn't invited into.
My grandfather finally spoke. "Lower your voice when you talk to me and mind your language, you don't want me to remind you who you're talking to"
Lucas laughed, short and bitter. "You're marrying her off to a man like Zane Whitmore, and you want me to lower my voice?"
There it was, the reason for this whole commotion.
Even hearing his name out loud made something cold settle in my stomach.
Zane Whitmore.
Billionaire. CEO. Tabloid favorite. Ruthless and untouchable.
Maniac, if you listened to the right people.
I watched my grandfather's gaze flick briefly in my direction, as if measuring my reaction. I gave him nothing. I couldn't afford to. The room already felt like it was cracking under the weight of everyone else's emotions.
"This decision isn't up for debate," my grandfather said. "The match has been arranged. It heavily benefits the family."
"The family?" Caleb finally snapped. "Or you?"
Silence followed, thick and suffocating.
I exhaled slowly through my nose, grounding myself. The fight was spiraling exactly the way I'd feared it would. Voices rising. Accusations flying. No one stopping to think about the person being traded like a bargaining chip.
My chest tightened.
How did we even get here?
The thought echoed, louder than the shouting around me.
And just like that, my mind pulled me backward.
Back to where it started this morning.
It began with a text message from my grandfather.
Be at my house by ten.
And that was it
No reason just an expectation.
I'd been halfway through tying my hair back for piano lessons when my phone buzzed on the dresser. For a moment, I considered ignoring it. Piano was the one thing in my week that felt untouched by family obligations. No expectations. No silent judgments. Just keys and sound and the rare permission to exist without explaining myself.
I couldn't ignore this message though not when it came from him.
I stared at the screen longer than necessary, already feeling the familiar pull of responsibility settle on my shoulders. Then I untied my hair, slipped my phone into my bag, and texted my instructor an apology I'd typed too many times before.
Family came first.
It always had.