Married to a misogynist

uests in tuxedos and gowns drifted across the ballroom like a sea of elegant faces, each conversation filled with pleasantries, whispers of power, and networking. For Sophia, it was her first t

kwells. He had asked Sophia to accompany him, though she would have preferred to stay home with a book in hand. Her own thoughts about the world she was about to step into were co

to her-something that should never be based on anything less than true affection, respect, and shared ideals. The idea of being

ther nudged her gently. "There he is," he whispered with an almost im

was different. His stature alone commanded attention. He was impeccably dressed, his dark hair styled just so, and the glint of his cuf

ure; he was part of a legacy that could change everything for her family. But that didn't mean she had any interest in him beyond that. She had heard th

on cue, Edward beg

a smile that seemed too perfect, as though he had rehearsed it in the mirror a hundred times. "Miss D

r. Blackwell, the pleasure is mine," she replied, her voice calm, betraying none of her inner hesitations. She had been trained for moment

hand to his lips. "I've heard so much about your family's work," he said, his tone dripping with a false warmth that almost seemed too prac

fore-words that were calculated to make one feel important, without any real depth behind them. "Than

he said, stepping closer with a slight tilt of his head. "It's rare to meet someone who understands the true value of legacy. In my

heard rumors of Edward's confidence, but this was something else-this was cal

her voice a little firmer now. "And I

pectacle." He took a step closer, lowering his voice just enough for only her to hear. "If I'm being honest, Miss Davenport, I believe we both know how society works. We both know the

elieve that marriage should be built on something more than just convenience or connection." She could feel the shift in the air betw

et naive. "Ah," he said, his voice almost a whisper, "but in this world, Miss Davenport, sometimes marriage is exactly that-an arrangement. A way to secure one's future, a w

She knew this dance well-the social dance of words, of posturing, of pretending that

ain the illusion of a perfect life, a perfect family. For Sophia, it was something that could never be reduced to m

doubt that gnawed at her. "Marriage should never be about securing power or convenie

an of principles, Miss Davenport," he said, his voice now cool but with a certain edge. "I admire that. But perhaps you'll find, i

s it-the core difference between them. For Edward, marriage was a tool, some

e evening, drawing her into the fold of high-society discussions. Each time, he grew more charming, more attentive, making it seem as though he was genuinely interested

head, seemed rehearsed-calculated to disarm her, to make her feel like she was the center of his world. He asked just enough to make it seem like he cared, yet he never allowed the conversation

even charming, in fleeting moments. When their eyes met across the crowded ballroom, when he threw a small, private smile her way-she felt it. For a second, she questioned her a

er second-guess her own judgment. His words, although veiled in compliments, always circled back to power, influence, and the importance of "securing alliances." The more he spoke of t

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play soft, classical music. Servers moved gracefully between the tables, offering plates of delicately prepared dishes. Sophia found hers

raised his glass of champagne. "To new beginnings," he

r hand trembled ever so slightly as she brought the glass to her lips. "T

, what do you envision for your future? Beyond the family

should reveal to him. Her instincts told her to be guarded, but there was something in the way

fter a moment. "I don't just want to exist. I want to

e said. "Though I'd say, with a woman of your beauty and intelligence, it's hard to imagine you ever just existing." He took a sip of his champagn

tion hung in the air. Was this the same man who had, moments earlier, told her that marriage was about securing pow

kept it brief, knowing that any attempt to dissect his words might lead to another uncomfortable confronta

that was calculated to make her feel his presence, his touch. "I understand," he said, his voice low, almost soothing. "And I can as

his voice almost

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r. Edward stood and extended his hand to Sophia, h

at this was-another carefully choreographed step in his game. But she also knew that refusing

said, offering her han

in perfect synchrony, his step guided by a quiet certainty. The soft strains of the violin seemed to fade away, an

r dance, "what do you really want from life? Not just from your fa

to the marriage, to him. She took a deep breath and pulled back slightly, keeping the space between them. "I want honesty. I want to build something meaningful, as I s

alike. We understand the importance of building a future, of making the right choices." His gaze softened, but there was

n in her stomach, her earlier doubts about him creeping back into her mind. She had wanted to