Back to the Engagement Feast, I Chose His Uncle

Ciel Miller's eyes snapped open.

The crystal chandelier above her blazed with a harsh white light, stabbing straight into her pupils. For a second, the world around her was nothing but spinning color, noise, and glitter.

Her right hand trembled. The champagne flute tilted, and ice-cold liquid spilled over the rim, soaking into the silk of her custom gown. The freezing sensation against her thigh dragged her fully back to the present.

The buzzing in her ears slowly sharpened into the elegant notes of a live string quartet.

Ciel gasped. Her chest rose and fell hard, as if she had just been pulled from deep water. Her eyes swept across the room in terror.

Designer gowns. Tailored tuxedos. Waiters with silver trays.

The penthouse ballroom in Manhattan.

This was the night her life ended in her previous life.

Her gaze stopped at the center of the room.

Harry Chavez stood there, surrounded by politicians and businessmen. He wore a perfectly tailored black tuxedo. When he caught her looking, a slow, arrogant smile spread across his face.

It was the smile of a man who believed he owned her.

Ciel's stomach turned. Acid burned in her throat.

Memories slammed into her. The public humiliation. The psychological torture. The suffocating marriage that had drained her until there was nothing left.

She took one step back. Her heel sank into the thick wool rug. The dull sound landed in her ears like a gunshot.

A waiter noticed her pale face and leaned closer.

"Miss Miller? Would you care for iced water? Or should I show you to the balcony for some air?"

Ciel forced herself to breathe. Her fingernails dug into her palms until pain cleared her panic.

She shook her head and placed the half-empty champagne flute onto his tray.

At the front of the ballroom, a sharp tapping sound echoed through the speakers.

Peregrine Chavez, patriarch of the Chavez family, stood on the temporary stage. He tapped his cane against the microphone stand.

The feedback cut through the room. Within seconds, the ballroom went silent.

Peregrine smiled with heavy authority. "Ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for joining us tonight. I have a very important family announcement to make."

Harry adjusted his silk tie and lifted his chin. He took two slow steps toward Ciel, already waiting for his moment.

Beside Peregrine stood Eleonora Chavez, Harry's mother. Her eyes swept over Ciel like she was inspecting property.

Peregrine leaned toward the microphone.

"The Miller family has a long and honorable history with us. We have always looked after Ciel. Tonight, we solidify that bond."

Ciel's breathing slowed.

The terror in her eyes disappeared, replaced by cold clarity.

"To honor our families' deep connection," Peregrine announced, "I have decided to give Ciel's hand in marriage to our finest heir, my grandson, Harry."

Applause filled the ballroom.

Dozens of eyes turned toward Ciel. Some were jealous. Some were pitying.

Harry extended his right hand, palm up, waiting for her to walk into his grasp like she always had.

The applause died.

Ciel stood still.

Harry's eyebrows twitched. He flicked his fingers impatiently, silently ordering her to move.

Ciel reached down and gathered the fabric of her skirt.

But she did not walk toward him.

She turned and walked straight to the empty space before the stage.

The guests shifted uneasily. The air tightened.

Eleonora's smile froze. She leaned forward, her eyes warning Ciel to behave.

Ciel ignored her.

She straightened her spine and looked directly at Peregrine.

"I am incredibly grateful for the Chavez family's care over the years," Ciel said clearly. "But I will absolutely not accept this engagement to Harry."