Chapter Three: Smile Like a Blake
The clinking of cutlery was the only sound in the lavish dining room.
Sunlight spilled through tall windows, casting golden streaks across the long mahogany table. Elara sat at the far end, her posture perfect, her plate barely touched. She didn't have much of an appetite. Not today.
Not when she was being sent off like an envelope to a man she didn't know.
Her mother was first to break the silence.
"Wear the cream dress. The one with the pearl buttons."
Elara looked up from her barely buttered toast. "Why?"
"Because it makes you look softer," Margot Blake said, not bothering to look at her. "Approachable. Innocent."
Vivienne sipped from her tea cup, watching the exchange with quiet amusement.
"And keep your makeup light," her father added without lifting his eyes from the newspaper. "We don't want him thinking you're trying too hard."
"I'm not trying at all," Elara muttered under her breath.
"What was that?" her mother snapped.
"I said I'll wear the cream dress."
Her father folded the paper neatly and set it aside. "Zayden Vale is a powerful man, Elara. You're not there to impress him. You're there to represent this family. Be polite. Listen. Smile only when appropriate."
"And definitely don't speak too much," Margot added.
Vivienne gave a short laugh. "Unless he likes that. Some men enjoy the soft-spoken, charming type."
Her mother turned to her sharply. "This isn't about enjoyment. It's about business."
"You're sending me like a signed contract," Elara said flatly, pushing her plate away. "Should I wear a barcode too?"
"Don't be ridiculous," her father snapped. "We gave you everything. Your education, your lifestyle, your name. The least you can do is make yourself useful."
"I didn't ask for any of it."
Margot stood now, eyes narrowing. "Stop behaving like a victim. You were born into privilege. If you had an ounce of gratitude, you'd see what this marriage could mean for you."
"What it means for you, you mean."
Vivienne leaned back in her chair, her voice deceptively sweet. "I'd take the opportunity if I were you, Elara. Zayden Vale is—what's the word they use in the magazines? Delicious."
Elara shot her a glare. "I'm not interested in delicious."
"Oh, don't worry," Vivienne said with a smirk. "Men like Zayden aren't interested in love. Just loyalty. Submission. Pretty packaging."
"Enough," their father growled. "Zayden agreed to meet you because we guaranteed you'd be… agreeable. Do not make a fool of us."
Elara stood, chair scraping lightly against the floor. "I'll be civil. I'll be polite. I'll even smile."
Her mother raised a brow. "Good. Practice that smile in the mirror before you go. Yours often looks too forced."
Elara didn't reply. She simply turned and walked out, the pearls on her bracelet catching the light as she moved.
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Upstairs in her room, the cream dress hung neatly on the bed. Elara stared at it for a long moment, then sat at the edge of the mattress, her fingers lightly grazing the fabric.
Cream. Soft. Approachable. Innocent.
Everything they wanted her to be.
She exhaled slowly, then looked at her reflection in the tall mirror.
"Let's see what happens when the fox meets someone who doesn't play prey."
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