The city was bursting with laughter and warm energy and so was Anderson's mansion. Sofia stood before her father, who looked too happy for her liking. The man who had raised her had very few reasons to be this happy: a good business deal or a suitable marriage suitor. The latter sounded more acceptable to her, and deep down, she prayed for it to happen.
"You should wear more revealing clothes. Your husband wouldn't like you all covered up like some nun." He turned to her, eyes scanning her like some commodity up for sale. "Husband?" Sofia demanded, her voice low and shaky.
"Yes, and the sooner the wedding, the better." Sofia felt her blood run cold. She knew her father too well to know this was not for her happiness. "Who is the groom?" she asked, her fingers digging deep into her skin.
"Kabir Marge," her father replied nonchalantly, as if unaware of the storm he had just unleashed on his daughter. Sofia instantly panicked, her hands sweating despite the well-ventilated room.
