Lana’s breath trembled, her heart thundering, yet her eyes stayed steady. Across from her, Zana leaned forward, the smirk of a predator who knew her prey had no way out. With a sharp flick, she snatched the crumpled proposal from Lana’s hands. “You will marry in the name of Maralia,” she declared, her voice a cold command. “This is the place to sign. From this moment on, you are no longer Lana Flosst—you are the possession of Mr. Harry Montonos.” Lana’s whisper cut through, low and defiant: “You may call me a possession, Miss Maralia, but I will never belong to you.” Zana’s smile dropped to ice. “Ah, but you are nothing,” she hissed, her tone laced with venom. “The daughter of a killer and a druggsman—now reduced to what you truly are: my possession. An eighteen-year-old bride, flawless in every way. Do you think I would ever let that slip away? Tomorrow will be the grandest wedding Maralia Comnico City has ever seen.” Zana signaled, and a guard’s slap burned across Lana’s face. Another seized her hand, forcing her finger onto the paper. Dizzy and weak, her vision blurred; within seconds, she collapsed. The guards dragged her to a locked chamber—cold walls, a rusted bed, a single flickering bulb. The door clanged shut, guards posted outside. Lana, fainted and helpless, was now trapped under Maralia’s watch.  Miss Annalana rushed through the halls, sending invitations across the city and ordering the finest preparations. “Today will be a wedding,” she declared. From Mr. Harry’s collection, the designer dress was brought forth—every stitch flawless, every jewel gleaming. Their “perfect bride” was no longer their own; she was now the possession of Harry Montonos. “By the fingerprint, everything is changed now,” Zana declared coldly. She turned to the guards. “Now, let us look at the girl in the locked chamber.” Lana’s eyes fluttered open; her head still dizzy, the world spinning. For a moment, she couldn’t understand what had happened. But the sharp creak of the door snapped her awake. Zana Maralia entered with her usual smirk. “Dear Lana,” she said, her voice like ice, “look at your fingerprint—now you have no rights, not even the right to speak. From this moment, you are the possession of Mr. Harry, who waits at the venue.” She waved the proposal paper before her eyes. Lana’s glare burned with silent fury, but Zana only gestured to the gown laid out on the chair. “Look at your gorgeous dress—it’s for your wedding. Wear it, and come with me now,” she demanded.  With a heavy heart, Lana walked slowly into the grand venue, her steps dragging as if each one carried the weight of chains. The glittering chandeliers above, the velvet curtains, and the rows of applauding guests blurred before her eyes. To them, she was a flawless bride— perfect, priceless, untouchable. But inside, she felt hollow, stripped of everything that once belonged to her. Her hands trembled against the silk of her gown, the very fabric that felt like a cage wrapped around her body. It’s over, she thought. There’s nothing left to fight for. At the altar stood Harry Montonos, his sharp eyes glinting with triumph as his lips curled into a satisfied smile. He looked at her not as a partner, but as property finally claimed. And Lana, numb and silent, could only bow her head—accepting that hope had left her complete. (finished)1234 copyright protection43ＰＥＮＡＮＡjkHE5AGglq 尼

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