Jiang Yuxi stood stiffly in the grand living room of the Jiang estate, her fingers curled into trembling fists. The scent of expensive sandalwood filled the air, its rich fragrance suffocating rather than soothing. Across from her, seated on the pristine leather sofa, was Jiang Haotian—her father.
But to her, he had never felt like one.
Dressed in an immaculate navy suit, Jiang Haotian's sharp eyes were cold and calculating, holding none of the warmth a father should have for his daughter. He rested his elbows on his knees, fingers interlaced, his presence commanding and suffocating. Beside him sat his wife—her stepmother, Yang Meilin, draped in a silk cheongsam embroidered with golden phoenixes, a stark contrast to the venom in her gaze.
And then there was Jiang Ruolan. Her stepsister.
Ruolan was everything a socialite should be—graceful, elegant, and dripping in privilege. She perched on the couch like royalty, arms crossed, her ruby-painted lips curving into a smirk as she watched Yuxi stand before them like a prisoner awaiting judgment.
Yuxi knew why she had been summoned. She had ignored it at first, but the moment she received the call from the Jiang housekeeper, a cold dread had seeped into her veins.
Now, standing before them, she wished she had never come.
Jiang Haotian exhaled slowly, tapping his fingers against the armrest. "Yuxi," he said at last, his tone distant, detached. "You should know why you're here."
Yuxi lifted her chin, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "If it's about Mother's hospital bills, I—"
"You what?" Yang Meilin interrupted, her voice laced with disdain. "You have no means to pay them, do you? You're struggling just to make ends meet, yet you dare to defy your father?"
Yuxi clenched her jaw.
Of course. This wasn't just about money. It was about control. It was about reminding her that she was insignificant in this household.
Her mother—her real mother, Shen Xue—had been in a coma for years after a devastating accident. The medical bills were astronomical, and Jiang Haotian, the man who should have been responsible for his wife's well-being, had long stopped caring.
Now, he was using it as leverage against Yuxi.
"I told you before," Jiang Haotian said, his voice dangerously calm. "If you refuse to marry Gu Zeyan, I will no longer support your mother's treatment."
Yuxi's blood ran cold.
A sharp laugh rang through the room—Jiang Ruolan, eyes glinting with amusement. "Father is being generous," she mocked. "You should be grateful. Marrying Gu Zeyan is a golden opportunity, and you're acting like it's some kind of punishment."
Yuxi's fingers dug into her palms.
A golden opportunity? More like a gilded cage.
Gu Zeyan—the cold and ruthless CEO of the Gu Corporation—was a man of power and status, but his heart was rumored to be made of ice. Their marriage wasn't about love. It was a contract. A transaction that benefited the Jiang family at the expense of her freedom.
"You want to sell me off," Yuxi said, her voice unwavering despite the fury rising in her chest.
Jiang Haotian arched a brow. "Call it what you want, but this is your only option."
Yang Meilin scoffed. "You should be thanking us. Do you know how many women would kill for the chance to marry into the Gu family?"
Yuxi snapped her gaze toward her stepmother. "Then why don't you offer Ruolan instead?"
Jiang Ruolan's expression darkened, her amusement vanishing.
Jiang Haotian slammed a hand against the table, the sound echoing through the room. "Enough!" His patience had worn thin. "You will marry Gu Zeyan, or you will no longer be a Jiang."
Yuxi's breath hitched.
It wasn't an empty threat.
If she lost the Jiang name, she would lose everything—her access to her mother's hospital bills, her last shred of security.
She had fought so hard. Scraped by with odd jobs, swallowed her pride time and time again to keep her mother alive. But without the Jiang family's backing, it would all crumble.
Was she really so powerless?
Yang Meilin smirked at her silence. "Look at her. Such a useless girl."
Jiang Ruolan leaned forward, feigning concern. "Maybe she thinks she can survive on her own," she mused. "But let's be honest, Yuxi—you can't even afford proper meals, can you? How long before your so-called independence leads you straight to the streets?"
Yuxi bit her lip so hard she tasted iron.
She hated them.
She hated them so much.
But more than that, she hated the truth in their words.
Her pride screamed at her to fight back. To tell them she didn't need their money. But when she thought of her mother—helpless, lying in that cold hospital bed—her resolve wavered.
Jiang Haotian watched her, his lips curling slightly. He knew he had won.
"You have until tomorrow to give me your answer," he said. "If you refuse, consider yourself disowned."
The finality in his tone sent a sharp pang through Yuxi's chest.
Tomorrow.
She had one night to decide whether she would sell herself to the Gu family or watch everything she had left be taken away.
Without another word, Jiang Haotian turned his attention back to his documents, dismissing her as if she were nothing more than an annoying insect. Yang Meilin chuckled, standing up gracefully and linking arms with Ruolan, both of them walking past Yuxi as if she were invisible.
When the heavy doors shut behind them, Yuxi was left standing in the empty room, her nails biting into her palms, the weight of the ultimatum pressing down on her like a crushing force.
Tears burned at the edges of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
She would not break.
Not here.
Not in front of them.
But as she walked out of the Jiang estate that night, the cold wind biting at her skin, she knew that no matter what decision she made—she had already lost.