Torn Between Obedience and Fire

My eyes roamed across the room. There was nothing wrong with it, far from it. The room was too luxurious for someone like me. But my heart wasn’t here. Not in this place. Not even at home. I felt lost, unanchored, like I belonged nowhere. I was disappointed in my mother. Disappointed by her selfishness, by every corner of this world that never seemed to understand me. I had no one who truly accepted me. Just a fragile piece of a heart that had started cracking long ago ever since I failed that school writing assignment. The teacher asked us to write about family. All I could write was, "Family? I don't even know what that means."

A knock on the door snapped me out of thought. I told them to come in. I was stunned when Ashton walked in carrying a box I didn’t ask for.

"This is the dress for dinner. You’ll be meeting my mother," he said, placing the box at the edge of the bed.

I didn’t respond immediately. Eventually, I dragged myself over and opened the pink satin-ribboned box. Inside was a dress that sparkled way too much for my taste, adorned with bling that screamed extravagance. The neckline dipped far too low. And the heels at least ten centimeters tall—were an accident waiting to happen.

"I’m not wearing this," I said flatly, staring him down. I wasn’t used to revealing dresses and high heels.

He crossed his arms, eyes narrowing with that usual mix of coldness and sarcasm. Maybe he’d finally lost his patience with me. But I wasn’t some sweet girl who grew up dreaming about fairytales and princes. The idea of "happily ever after" had never made sense to me. Life was far too complicated for that.

"That dress was custom-made by a top designer. There’s only one in the world. And the heels? Limited edition. Still refusing?"

"Why this kind of dress? It’s too revealing, Ashton. And these heels, do you even realize how much pressure this puts on a woman’s feet? High heels increase forefoot pressure by up to thirty percent. They stiffen the Achilles tendon and limit blood circulation. They're literal pain disguised as beauty."

He stared at me harder. I usually wasn't this talkative. But something about Ashton always made me want to push back. Maybe because I hated being told what to do.

"It’s not like you’ll be wearing them every day. It’s just for special occasions. Don’t be dramatic."

"Everyone has the right to wear what makes them comfortable, Ashton. This isn't it for me."

"Like it or not, you’ll wear it. I don’t like resistance, Lily. Just do what I say."

My glare sharpened. This man was infuriating.

"You keep saying what you don’t like. Have you ever considered what others might not like? Have you ever tried understanding someone’s discomfort before forcing your will on them?"

He didn’t reply, but his gaze never left me. I picked up the dress—and ripped it.

His jaw dropped. For once, he looked truly stunned. I let the shredded fabric fall to the floor, piece by piece, like pieces of my own bruised soul.

"This dress was one of a kind. Many women would kill for it," he growled.

"Then maybe you should’ve asked me what I wanted to wear."

"Ask you? Judging by your wardrobe, your fashion sense is awful."

"So to you, good fashion means showing off curves and maximizing sex appeal? For what? For the entertainment of wandering eyes? I have my own definition of beauty, Ashton. And it’s not the same as yours."

"We live in a world ruled by majority standards. Your idea of beauty makes you look like a misfit. No wonder your mother said you had no friends and never dated. You’ve always been trapped in your own little world, refusing to come out."

I froze. He knew? So Mother told him everything. I was immediately dragged back to the lonely days in Manhattan, Kansas. The bullying. The hand-me-down shoes. Struggling to buy a simple burger while wondering where all that money from David Taylor was going.

"You tore up the dress," Ashton said, his tone hardening. "So I’ll do the same to even the score."

He stepped forward. In a flash, he grabbed my shirt and tore it open. Buttons flew. His hands didn’t stop. My shirt was ripped to shreds, my undergarments exposed. I stood frozen, shocked, furious, humiliated.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Before I could even process it, he yanked the shirt completely off and dropped it to the floor.

"Fair trade, right? You ruined what I gave you, and I ruined what you had. Actually, your shirt’s not even worth a fraction of that dress. Maybe I should rip everything off just to make it even."

His eyes scanned me from head to toe. I wrapped my arms around myself instinctively.

He chuckled.

"Even with everything you’re wearing, you still can’t pay me back for that dress. So how do you plan to repay me, Lily?"

My words were stuck in my throat. I was mortified.

He leaned in. I stepped back. My back hit the wall.

He braced one hand beside my head, the other tucked in his pocket. That crooked smile again. That damn smile.

"Your life’s been dull. Why not enjoy the ride for once? You’ll understand soon why I’m doing this. It’s not just about David Taylor’s reputation. He needs to pay. And you... you might finally enjoy your new life."

His breath ghosted over my cheek, mint-scented and maddening.

"You want me to go against my own father?"

"You said it yourself, he never cared. Don’t you want recognition? And let’s not forget the money I gave your mother. Add the dress to the bill. You owe me, Lily. So play along. I can give you anything you want."

He smiled again, the same empty smile.

"Think about it. Playing my fiancée isn’t the worst thing. Plenty of women would die to be in your place. You wanted a new adventure, right?"

He leaned close to whisper in my ear.

"I’ll teach you how to enjoy the ride."

My chest was pounding when he finally stepped back.

"You’re sexy, Lily," he added, grinning wickedly as he walked away.

I stood frozen. Maybe he was right. Why shouldn’t I play the game? I had no intention of paying back the fortune he gave my mother. Maybe I did want recognition, even if I used to pretend I didn’t. Maybe I was tired of being the girl without a father.

He left the room. And I was left wondering, was he going to tell his mother this engagement was all a lie?

Somehow, I doubted it.