CHAPTER 7

The next morning, the loud bang of my door being thrown open startled me awake. I bolted upright, heart racing, as Rafael stood in the doorway, his dark eyes narrowing at me. He wasn’t the kind of man you could ignore—not with his imposing frame and sharp, intense features. His presence filled the room like a storm rolling in, heavy and suffocating.

“Elara,” he said firmly, his voice steady but laced with irritation, “we need to talk.”

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, blinking up at him in confusion. “Do you not know how to knock?” I snapped, clutching the blanket closer to my chest. “What is wrong with you?”

“I don’t have time for games,” he said, stepping further into the room, his boots clicking against the hardwood floor. “I only came here because you’re too damn stubborn for your own good, and I’m done waiting.”

His words immediately set me on edge. Rafael wasn’t the type to mince words, and the fact that he barged in like this meant he had something important to say. I frowned, sitting up straighter. “What are you talking about?”

He crossed his arms, his gaze piercing through me. “The wedding.”

My stomach dropped at the word. “What wedding?”

“Our wedding.” His tone was flat, as though the words were the most natural thing in the world. “It’s happening next week.”

It took a moment for his words to sink in. When they did, I shot up from the bed, throwing the blanket aside. “What? Next week? Are you out of your mind?”

His expression didn’t change. “It’s already decided.”

“Decided by *who*? Certainly not me!” I exclaimed, my voice rising in disbelief. I felt like I was suffocating, the room suddenly too small with him towering over me. “You can’t just walk in here and drop this on me like it’s nothing! Next week? Are you serious?”

He shrugged, completely unfazed by my outburst. “You’ve known this was coming, Elara. It was only a matter of time.”

“No,” I said firmly, shaking my head. “This is insane. You can’t force me into this.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of something—regret, frustration, I couldn’t tell. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared. “I’m not forcing you into anything. This was agreed upon long before you started fighting it.”

I took a step back, putting some distance between us. “Agreed upon by *who*? Because I sure as hell don’t remember agreeing to marry you.”

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair. “Your stubbornness is exhausting, Elara. This is happening whether you like it or not. I’m just here to make sure you’re prepared.”

“Prepared?” I repeated, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, thank you so much for your consideration, Rafael. How thoughtful of you to give me a week’s notice before ruining my life.”

His eyes narrowed, his patience clearly wearing thin. “I’m not here to argue with you. This is happening, and you need to accept it.”

I laughed bitterly, the sound harsh and humorless. “Accept it? You’re unbelievable. You think you can just waltz in here, throw this bombshell at me, and expect me to be okay with it?”

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze steady and unyielding. “I don’t care if you’re okay with it,” he said finally, his tone colder than before. “This isn’t about what you want, Elara. This is about what needs to be done.”

I stared at him, stunned into silence. The audacity of this man was unmatched. How could he stand there so calmly, as if he wasn’t completely derailing my life? My hands balled into fists at my sides, and I could feel the anger bubbling up inside me, threatening to spill over.

“You’re a monster,” I said quietly, my voice trembling with fury. “Do you even realize what you’re doing? Do you even care?”

He didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink. “You can call me whatever you want. It doesn’t change anything.”

I wanted to scream, to throw something, to wipe that infuriatingly calm expression off his face. But I knew it wouldn’t make a difference. Rafael wasn’t the type to be swayed by emotions or words. He was resolute, immovable. And that terrified me.

“You’re not leaving me with a choice,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper.

“You do have a choice,” he said, his tone softening ever so slightly. “You can make this easy, or you can make it difficult. But either way, it’s happening.”

I clenched my jaw, refusing to let him see the fear in my eyes. “I’ll never go through with it.”

His gaze darkened, and for a moment, I thought he might say something cruel, something to cut me down further. But instead, he turned toward the door, his back to me. “You have until next week to come to terms with it,” he said over his shoulder. “I suggest you use the time wisely.”

And with that, he was gone, the door slamming shut behind him.

I stood there for what felt like an eternity, the weight of his words pressing down on me like a crushing force. Next week. He expected me to marry him next week. The thought made my stomach churn, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst out of my chest.

There was no way I could let this happen. No way in hell. I wouldn’t let him dictate my life, wouldn’t let him trap me in a marriage I never wanted. I had to get out of here, had to find a way to escape before it was too late.

But how? How could I possibly get away from him when he seemed to have control over everything? The thought was daunting, but I knew one thing for sure: I couldn’t stay here. Not with him. Not with this looming over me.

I sank back onto the bed, my mind racing with possibilities, each one more desperate than the last. Time was running out, and if I didn’t act soon, I’d be walking down the aisle toward a man I despised—a man who seemed hell-bent on breaking my spirit.

I wouldn’t let it happen. I couldn’t.