Chapter 11. Forced Arrangements

Avery’s POV

The cold morning breeze blew against my skin harshly as I rushed back to the villa, my father’s voice from the phone call still echoing in my mind. His words had been clipped and demanding, allowing no room for argument. I dreaded the confrontation awaiting me, but nothing could have prepared me for what lay ahead.

When I stepped through the front door, the warmth of the house hit me like a suffocating wave. To my surprise, the villa was quiet. Too quiet. I had expected the hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the lingering energy of a banquet, but all that remained was a faint scent of roasted meats and wilting flowers. Had the event already ended?

The usual elegance of the villa seemed to mock me, its grandeur standing in stark contrast to the turmoil churning in my chest. My father’s voice reached me before I saw him, sharp and commanding.

“Avery, get in here!”

I swallowed hard, my feet dragging as I walked into the li