Smiles & Scars

Chapter One: The Proposal

I never liked the silence in this house. It was too perfect, too polished, like everything else in the Blackwell estate. The tall arched windows framed a dusky sky as evening crept in, and the grandfather clock in the hallway ticked with methodical precision, each sound pressing against my nerves. I sat in the drawing room, curled up on the emerald velvet chaise, my journal open on my lap. The pen dangled loosely from my fingers, but I hadn't written a word.

I wasn't sure what held my attention, the soft rain tapping against the windows or the faint murmur of voices slipping through the partially open study door.

Claire Blackwell's voice, elegant, sharp, and calculated, filtered into the room. "Charles, this merger is essential. The Wells and Blackwell names together? We'd own half the city."

I frowned. My last name, Wells, was the only remnant I had of my parents. My father passed away when I was sixteen. My mother followed two years later. Since then, I'd lived under the care of my mother's cousin, Claire. She raised me, clothed me, shaped me into what the world considered a "perfect young lady."

But perfect young ladies weren't supposed to eavesdrop.

Still, I inched closer to the door, careful not to make a sound.

"And Damon?" asked Charles Blackwell Sr., his voice rich and full of authority. "He won't like it. He doesn't know the girl."

Claire let out a soft chuckle. "Aurora trusts me. She's grateful. That girl would marry a tree if I told her it would help the family."

A chill spread across my skin, the kind that felt like it reached bone. Did she really believe that about me?

Charles scoffed. "Damon isn't exactly obedient either. He'll resist."

Claire's heels clicked against the hardwood. I imagined her standing now, tall and proud. "Then we both apply pressure. We have enough leverage. Damon has his secrets. And Aurora... she has no one but us."

I backed away from the door slowly, heart pounding. Forced marriage? A merger? Damon Blackwell? I'd met him maybe three times, each interaction colder than the last. He was Claire's stepson, and while strikingly handsome with raven-black hair and brooding eyes, he was also distant, guarded, and seemingly uninterested in everything and everyone.

My knees buckled slightly as I sank back into the chaise, the journal forgotten. I stared at the crackling fireplace, mind reeling.

I felt like a pawn on a chessboard, moved for strategy, not affection.

Rain misted the windows as I stood and left the room. My body moved on autopilot, drifting through hallways I knew better than the lines of my own hand. I found myself in the conservatory, where Claire often hosted garden teas and charity luncheons. It was empty now, save for the scent of orchids and the whisper of rain tapping on the glass ceiling.

I slid open the glass door and stepped out into the courtyard. The rain had softened to a drizzle, cool and cleansing. I tilted my head up, letting the droplets kiss my skin.

I was Aurora Wells. I was not a puppet.

But what did that mean in a world where every decision about my future had already been made?

"Aurora."

The voice behind me was like silk wrapped around steel. I turned to see Claire standing beneath a large umbrella, her sleek beige coat unbuttoned to reveal a pearl-white blouse and black trousers.

"You'll ruin your dress," she said softly, as if she cared.

"Is it true?" I asked, not bothering with niceties.

Her gaze sharpened. "Is what true, darling?"

I stepped toward her, wet hair clinging to my cheeks. "The arrangement. The marriage. The merger. Me. Damon."

She hesitated, and I saw it. Just for a second. The slip. The awareness that the game had been exposed.

"Aurora," she began, adopting the soothing tone she used when I was a teenager reeling from my mother's death, "you have to understand. This is an incredible opportunity, for all of us. You and Damon, you're both heirs to two of the most respected families in the city. Together, you'll be unstoppable."

"So that's all I am? A piece of a business deal?"

She sighed and stepped closer. "You're so much more than that, love. But sometimes, we have to make decisions that look beyond our emotions."

I flinched. "This isn't about emotions. It's about control."

Claire's eyes softened, but her voice stayed firm. "You owe me, Aurora. I took you in when no one else would. I gave you everything."

"And now you want to sell me like livestock."

The air between us snapped tight like a stretched rubber band.

Her lips pursed. "You should get inside and change. We're having dinner with the Blackwells tomorrow. Wear the sapphire dress. Damon always did like blue."

I watched her walk away, heels echoing on the wet stone.

Damon always did like blue?

He didn't even know my birthday.

Back in my room, I peeled off my soaked clothes and stepped into a hot bath, sinking until only my eyes remained above water. The silence pressed in again. My thoughts were too loud.

I remembered the time my mother held me after a piano recital, whispering how proud she was of me, how the world was mine to shape. I remembered my father's booming laugh and the way he called me his "sunrise girl." I remembered promises of college abroad, of freedom, of becoming a writer, of living boldly.

But bold didn't belong here.

Here, there were expectations, dinner parties, networking events, practiced smiles, and cold porcelain perfection.

When I emerged from the bath, I stared at my reflection. My face, pale and sharp, stared back with glassy blue eyes and trembling lips.

Who was I becoming?

I couldn't sleep. I sat by the window instead, watching the moon wade through slow-moving clouds. My thoughts kept circling Damon.

He didn't ask for this either. I wondered what secrets Claire held over him. What leverage did she have to bend a man like Damon into this absurd arrangement?

Maybe he hated it as much as I did.

The next morning, the house buzzed with preparations. I went through the motions, allowing the stylist to twist my hair into soft waves, the maid to zip up the sapphire dress, the makeup artist to paint my face like a doll.

Inside, I felt hollow.

Claire entered my room as I slipped on my heels.

"Perfect," she said, her eyes scanning me like a collector examining her prize. "Smile, Aurora. You're about to secure a legacy."

I didn't smile. I stared at her, then looked away.

The Blackwell mansion was colder than ours, grander in a way that felt imposing. We were ushered into a dining room with high ceilings, a chandelier dripping crystals, and walls lined with dark oil paintings.

Damon stood by the fireplace, hands in his pockets, gaze fixed on the flames.

He turned when we entered. His eyes met mine.

I saw it then, the same confusion, the same storm.

Claire introduced us like strangers meeting at a charity gala. We shook hands.

His touch was warm. His voice low. "Aurora."

"Damon."

We sat across from each other during dinner. Claire and Charles led the conversation. Stocks. Property. The future. The merger.

Damon barely touched his food. I pushed mine around like a sculptor unsure what to shape.

When dessert was served, Claire cleared her throat. "We'd like to make the engagement official by next month. The wedding, ideally, before the end of the year."

I choked on my wine.

Damon set his glass down slowly. "That's quite... fast."

Claire gave her rehearsed smile. "No point in delay."

"Have you asked us what we want?" I said, voice louder than intended.

The room fell silent.

Charles arched a brow. Claire gave me a warning glance.

"Aurora," she said smoothly, "we've been over this."

"No. You've decided."

Damon stood. "Excuse me."

I rose a second later. "I need air."

We both ended up in the hallway, standing several feet apart.

He turned to me. "You overheard them."

I nodded. "You?"

"A week ago."

We stared at each other.

He leaned against the wall, exhaling slowly. "I have no interest in being a corporate husband."

"Then why agree?"

He looked away. "Because sometimes, walking away costs more than staying."

I understood that all too well.

"What now?" I asked.

He looked at me, really looked. "Now? We figure out how to survive it. Together."

And for the first time, I felt something flicker in the wreckage, not hope, not yet, but maybe the ashes of something close.

To be continued......