I have never struggled a day in my life. I have had it all—name, education, class, elegance—and not to brag, I did not lack in beauty. But unlike most, these things are given to my kind for a reason. We get everything we want because we are raised to become wives, not independent women who can stand on their own.
And, to be honest, I hate every bit of it.
My financial life has always been flawless. I've never had to worry about a single thing… except one. A truth that still haunts me, no matter how much I try to bury it. Even at my age, I cannot shift. And though I refuse to admit it out loud, even to myself sometimes, it bothers me. It bothers my parents too. Perhaps that is why they pushed the wedding forward—to tie me to someone powerful enough to mask my weakness.
I lean closer to the mirror, dragging a red lipstick across my lips. Not something I would usually dare to wear. But tonight, I don't care. Tonight, I'm going to live my life the way I want, before the three days are over and I am married off to a man I barely know.
The phone on the vanity vibrates, making me jump. Straightening my red dress, I reach for it.
"Elle, you've got two minutes before your guards realize you're gone. I distracted them, but I don't know how long I can keep it up," Vivian's urgent voice hisses through the line.
A smile curves on my lips. "I'm on my way down."
I place the lipstick down, take one final look in the mirror, and almost smirk at the reflection staring back at me. My hair falls in soft waves, my dress clings in scandalous ways, and the red on my lips makes me look like someone else entirely. Someone free. Someone alive.
Snatching my purse and phone, I hurry out.
Vivian's car waits not far from the gates, headlights glowing like a beacon. My heart hammers as I rush across the pavement, slipping into the passenger seat with a laugh of relief.
"Oh my God, Ell—marry me instead," Vivian teases, her grin wide.
I laugh at her words, tension melting from my chest. If there is one person in my life who brings colour to my grayscale world, it's her. It still amazes me that my parents haven't forbidden me from seeing her yet.
"Well," I quip, buckling my seatbelt, "if you have enough money to buy off my parents, then yes."
She snorts, pulling the car into motion. "Please. I don't think I can compete with the man you're about to marry. What was his name again?"
"Actually, let's not talk about him." She adds, tossing me a mischievous grin, she continues, "Tonight is all about parteyyy."
She says it so casually, like it's nothing. But to me, this is everything.
I've never done this before. Never attended these sorts of things. My twenty-three years have been carefully sheltered—fundraisers, charity galas, endless dinners with polished silverware and calculated smiles. Never a party. Never a night where I could simply be Ella.
And though Vivian's confidence steadies me, I can't stop the twist of nerves tightening my stomach.
The drive isn't too long, but it isn't easy either. The location is tucked away from the usual nightlife, hidden like a secret only the wealthy and reckless know about. Vivian had to book this two weeks ago, and from the looks of it, every minute she spent planning was worth it.
Velour—that's the name of the club. I'd looked it up before, out of curiosity, and instantly realized how expensive it was. Vivian must have pulled a miracle—or spent a small fortune—to get us through its doors.
As we step out of the car, Vivian hooks her arm through mine. Unlike me, with my hair left loose around my shoulders, she has tied her thick curls into a messy bun, a few strands falling over her temples with effortless charm. She's buzzing with excitement, practically glowing under the streetlights. For once, I think she's more thrilled about me being here than herself.
The guards at the entrance barely glance at us before moving aside. The doors swing open, and I step into a world I've only ever imagined.
The music is heavy, a pulsing bass that seems to shake the floor itself. The air is thick with perfume, smoke, and something darker—heat, sweat, temptation. Lights flash across the dance floor where bodies writhe together, lost in rhythm. Others crowd near velvet booths, glasses of gold and crimson liquid in hand.
And then my eyes fall on something that makes my breath hitch. A couple, so wrapped up in each other they may as well have been the only people in the room. Their hands, their mouths—God, they're practically devouring each other. And just when I think it couldn't get worse, I spot another pair in the shadows, clearly doing more than kissing.
What the hell? My cheeks burn, and I quickly avert my gaze. How could people just… do that, so shamelessly, so publicly?
"Girl," Vivian's voice cuts through my shock, casual as ever, "we need drinks. Now."
I turn to her with wide eyes. "You'd better make sure I don't drink too much. Tonight, you're in charge of me."
A wicked smirk curves her lips. "Oh, don't worry. I'll take very good care of you."
I narrow my eyes at her tone, but a reluctant laugh escapes me. The truth is, Vivian has always been the wild one, the fearless one. I've spent most of our lives looking after her, being the voice of reason. And maybe I envy her for that—for the way her family never forced her into molds, for the way she could breathe without being measured by tradition.
Tonight, though, maybe I get to borrow a little of her freedom.
"You can count on me," she says again, tugging me deeper into the crowd.
And with that, I take a breath and step forward—into the party, into the unknown, into the first night I will truly call my own.