Matilda's Pov 

I should have known something was coming. Clara Geal didn’t put on her sapphire earrings and that silky gray wrap dress just for a quiet family meal. 

She had that calculated gleam in her eyes, the kind that always meant she was about to serve me a life decision disguised as casual conversation.

“I was speaking with some friends this morning,” she sat back down in her chair and began lightly, slicing into her asparagus. “And it gave me an idea, a solution to your moping.”

“And you think finding someone for me would stop my “moping”,” I said, standing by the staircase. My guard was still up.

“Yes, dear. "I found a good man for you,” she continued.

I blinked, and shook my head. What is my mother up to?

“Here me out. His name is Damon. He is about your age. Tall. Handsome. Very handsome, and also well-spoken. "You met him once at the Pemberton gala, but you were too busy mooning over the wretch you married to notice anyone else.”

There it was.

I frowned. “Mother…”

She smiled without looking at me. “He is still single. I went through heartbreak last year. Such a poor boy. He has no children, and he is focused on his family’s global logistics company. A real solid man, with strong values. And he has expressed interest in meeting you.”

I narrowed my eyes. “And by ‘expressed interest,’ you mean you arranged it.”

Clara finally met my gaze. “Matilda, listen. I’m not asking you to marry him…yet. I’m simply suggesting you meet. You owe me that much.”

I stiffened. “Owe you?”

She leaned forward, her voice calm but laced with that steel edge she was famous for. “Darling, when you chose Gabriel, you chose him over everything I warned you about. You walked away from your inheritance, from the family business, from all that you are. From all of this—” she gestured around the room “—because you thought love was enough.

I didn’t say anything. The reminder stung. I had nothing to argue back with. She was right.

“I took you back without hesitation,” she continued. Not because you begged. You didn’t. But because you’re my daughter, and you had to fall flat on your face to realize you married a disgusting rat in a tailored suit.”

I looked down at my napkin, knuckles white from how tightly I clutched it.

Clara softened a little. “All I ask is that you meet the man. One evening. One conversation. If you don’t like him, fine. We’ll leave it at that. But don’t shut the door before you’ve even opened it.”

“I’m not ready,” I said quietly.

“I’m not asking you to fall in love with him. I’m asking you to show up.”

“And if I say no?” I looked at her squarely now.

She smiled again, slow and knowing. “Then you can forget about the board seat I planned to reinstate for you.”

Ah. There it was. The real card.

“You’re blackmailing me?” I said, half incredulous.

“I’m motivating you,” she replied coolly. “You said you wanted to dedicate yourself to the family business. Fine. Prove it. Start by showing me you can handle an evening in high society. Something you hate so much.”

I didn’t respond right away. I let the silence settle between us, my heart racing, my mind a mess of defiance and dread.

“I don’t want to marry anyone,” I murmured finally. Not now. Maybe not ever. I want to rebuild my life… not hand it over again.”

Clara’s gaze softened, and for a moment, she looked almost maternal—almost. “You’re not handing it over. You’re reclaiming it. But this time, wisely. With control.”

Control. The one thing I hadn’t had in my marriage.

I closed my eyes and exhaled.

“One evening?” I asked.

“One evening,” she confirmed. “At a ball, tomorrow night." The Richmond Estate. It’ll be full of people. You won’t have to stay long. Just meet him, have a drink, smile for a few photos. That’s all I’m asking.”

I could already see myself in a dress I didn’t want to wear, holding a glass I wouldn’t drink from, making small talk with a man I didn’t care to know.

And yet… part of me, buried deep beneath the ruins Gabriel left behind, was curious. Not about the man, no. But about who I would be in that room. Some people would laugh at me for making that horrible mistake of marrying Gabriel. How do I face them?

“Fine,” I said, pushing back from the table. “I’ll go.”

Clara beamed like she’d just negotiated a merger. “Excellent. I’ll have my stylist bring some options in the morning.”

I was already halfway to my room, mentally bracing for whatever disaster tomorrow night would bring.

As I reached the top landing, I caught my reflection in the antique mirror in the hallway. The same face, but no longer the same woman.

She could make me meet him. But she couldn’t make me fall. Love has no place in this heart of mine anymore. 

The dress hugged my waist perfectly, the satin fabric shimmering in deep emerald under the chandelier lights of the grand hall. My heels clicked crisply on the polished marble as I descended the front steps of the Geal mansion, the cool night air brushing against my skin like a silent reminder that I didn’t belong in anyone's shadow anymore.

Clara had spared no detail, of course. The dress was a custom Elie Saab. She had whispered the name like a threat this morning—as though daring me to say I wouldn’t go. The necklace she loaned me was a subtle cascade of diamonds, delicate but loud enough to remind onlookers exactly whose daughter I was. No one with eyes could miss the message.

Even the family chauffeur had been summoned, dressed in black tie, the car smelling of new leather and power.

I didn’t say much on the ride there. I just stared out the tinted window as the city passed in a blur. My heart was steady. Too steady. I should’ve been nervous, but I wasn’t. Maybe that part of me had been burned away in the fire Gabriel left behind.

When the car finally rolled to a stop in front of the Richmond Estate, I took a breath. Then another. My fingers reached for the door handle before the chauffeur could even get out.

“I’ve got it,” I said, my voice firm.

I stepped out on my own.

The estate was drenched in opulence. Soft classical music wafted from inside as elegantly dressed men and women lingered on the terrace, laughing lightly, sipping expensive champagne. Golden light poured from the ballroom windows like honey, making the whole place look like a dream—or a trap.

I walked in slowly, each step echoing in my ears as heads began to turn.

I haven’t been seen in high society circles, so I tend to avoid it. It always felt like a chore to me, and my mother hated that I felt that way.

So I straightened my shoulders and lifted my chin, not because I wanted to impress anyone—but because I knew people would be watching. Judging. Whispering. Wondering.

And I wasn’t going to give them what they wanted.

Let them whisper. That is all they can do, those that recognize anyway.

My fingers curled gently around the clutch in my hand as I stepped fully into the ballroom, eyes scanning for the man Clara wanted me to meet. But instead—

I saw them.

Across the room, a familiar trio stood near the grand staircase. Their laughter had stopped. Their champagne glasses paused midair.

Gabriel. Aria. And Eunice, my former mother-in-law.

For a second, we all just stared at each other.

His expression was pure disbelief. Aria’s lips parted slightly in shock. Eunice-ever the viper—looked as if she had seen a ghost. She thought she had been buried alive.

I let the moment stretch. Let them look.

I could almost hear their thoughts.

What is she doing here?

How can she afford to be at an event like this?

Isn’t she supposed to be groveling somewhere?