Chapter 3

Center stage, crystal chandeliers bathed the room in dazzling light.

Every eye in the hall was fixed on the rosewood box.

According to tradition, the box contained one hundred slips of paper.

Our families alternated each year—one year Asher would draw, the next year I would draw.

If Asher drew a slip with my name, or if I drew a slip with his name, it was fate—a match made in heaven, and I would become his fiancée on the spot.

Draw a blank, and destiny hadn't aligned. Try again next year.

For the past seven years, we had taken turns drawing.

And every single time, the slip was blank.

I thought God was testing our love.

But now I knew the truth—Asher had been replacing the slips all along, ensuring we'd always draw blank.

"Serena, go ahead." Asher's mother stood below the platform, smiling encouragingly.

"I had your astrology chart read. They said your stars are aligned this year. You'll succeed."

Stars aligned? Maybe.

But not with Asher.

I lifted the hem of my gown and walked up the platform step by step.

Asher stood beside the box, one hand in his pocket, expression arrogant, looking at me like I was a child throwing a tantrum.

"Serena." He lowered his voice so only I could hear.

"Apologize to Bianca right now, and next year, I'll make sure you draw the right slip."

"Hell, you don't even have to wait until next year. As long as you behave and stop targeting Bianca, I'll consider ending this game early and making you my fiancée."

A game.

That's what it was to him.

Seven years of torment, my youth, my dignity—nothing more than a game he could end whenever he felt like it.

I stopped in my tracks, standing across from him, only a few feet apart, but our hearts were worlds away.

"Asher." I looked into his eyes and asked softly, "Do you really think I can't live without you?"

Asher paused, then laughed mockingly.

"What else? Who else would put up with your spoiled attitude? What other family is worthy of yours?"

"Serena, face it. You're destined to be mine."

He was so confident, confident to the point of arrogance.

He thought he'd found my weakness and could trample on my boundaries however he liked.

He also thought the box was full of blanks—there was no way I could draw a name.

I lowered my gaze, hiding the scorn in my eyes.

"Is that so? Then let's see who's the one who should face reality."

I took a deep breath, slowly raised my right hand, and reached into the dark box.

My fingers brushed against cold paper—one slip, two slips, countless slips.

Each one felt like a blade slicing through my heart.

The crowd below fell silent.

Bianca stood at the front, a victor's smile playing on her lips.

She knew the box was filled with nothing but blanks—she was waiting to watch me humiliate myself in public, to see me cry.

Asher glanced away casually, as if he'd already foreseen the outcome.

I closed my eyes, my fingers searching along the bottom of the box.

Finally, I found a slip that felt slightly different.

It was the one I'd had someone slip in before the gala—my last safeguard.

I snapped my eyes open, gripped it tightly, and pulled it out.

"Mr. Asher." I held up my slip high, my voice clear and ringing across the hall.

"It seems your promise just expired."