Amara's POV

The soft knock on my door broke the tense silence of my room. My fingers, which had been nervously twisting the hem of my dress, froze.

“Ma’am,” a quiet voice said from the other side. “Mr. Garvin is waiting for you downstairs.”

My stomach sank. For a second, I thought about pretending I hadn’t heard. But then I caught my reflection in the mirror, the red dress Victor had picked out the day before hugged my body too perfectly, the slit too high, the neckline too ...