Chapter 1 A Marriage Alliance

The luxurious Lincoln Continental sedan glided to a halt before the grand entrance of a stately manor. A moment later, the driver stepped out to open the passenger door. His eyes flicked downward briefly, his expression tinged with contempt and indifference. From the car emerged a young girl clad in modest, homespun attire, her appearance more reminiscent of a housekeeper than a member of high society. She had recently returned from a rustic life on a countryside farm. The driver scoffed inwardly. This plain girl is the eldest daughter of the illustrious Somerville family? What a farce. Minerva Somerville's eyes sparkled with awe as she took in the sprawling estate. “Father's mansion is so grand and beautiful!” she exclaimed with an air of deliberate wonder. Her words elicited a series of disapproving frowns from the driver and the assembled servants. To their refined sensibilities, such unabashed enthusiasm was the height of impropriety. In their world, no true sophisticate would ever betray their surprise so openly. The servants, though lacking genuine respect for the girl, maintained the grace and restraint expected of those serving a wealthy household. Their demeanor remained polished, their words and gestures never straying beyond the bounds of propriety. Minerva, however, caught the subtle disdain in their expressions. She had grown accustomed to such looks and hardly cared. After all, in her ninth year, her own father had abandoned her on a remote farm, leaving her to be raised by an Alendorian housekeeper. Only today, without warning, had she been summoned back to the city. The reason for her sudden return remained a mystery, even to the servant sent to retrieve her. Yet Minerva was curious. What does Father intend to do with me now, after all these years? There was, of course, one critical reason that necessitated her return to the Somerville Manor. After crossing a field of flowers, Minerva caught sight of the grand, three-story mansion. Its front door stood firmly closed, with only two servants stationed outside. As she ascended the steps, the servants silently pushed open the grand entrance for her. “Darling, you're finally back. Your mother and I have been waiting for you for so long.” The words came from her father, Clifford Somerville, who rose from the couch to embrace her. Trailing behind him was Hazel Loxley. Minerva's gaze flickered toward the woman standing a short distance away, a faint smile curving her lips. This woman—referred to as her mother—was nothing more than a stepmother. She had never called Hazel “Mom,” for she was not worthy. “Dad, it's been a while.” Minerva spoke calmly, her gaze never once drifting toward Hazel, treating the woman as though she were nothing more than a shadow. Hazel, who had stepped forward with the intention of embracing Minerva, froze mid-step. Her outstretched hands awkwardly fell to her sides, her expression twisting with thinly veiled resentment. Humiliated, Hazel shot a sharp glare at her husband. In this household, no one had ever dared to disregard her so openly. Clifford caught her gaze and subtly signaled her to remain composed. This was no time for petty disputes. Minerva hadn't been brought back for a heartfelt family reunion—she had a purpose to serve. “Sweetheart, come here,” Clifford said, motioning her toward him. His tone was gentle, but there was a hint of urgency beneath it. “I understand you've reached the age for marriage. As the eldest daughter of our family, there's something important you need to know. Many years ago, our family formed a marital alliance with the Lemieux family—the current mafia boss of Hepham.” Clifford had no time to waste. If not for the presence of the servants, and his desire to maintain the facade of a caring father, he would have sent his ex-wife's daughter directly to the Lemieux family without a second thought—straight into the hands of that ruthless mafia boss. He had no choice but to force his eldest daughter to obediently accept this arranged marriage. “Marriage alliance?” Minerva's brows knitted together, her mind racing. With the current mafia boss? The one notorious for his grotesque appearance and merciless cruelty—sparing no one, neither man, woman, nor child? Clifford, misjudging her reaction, assumed she was too unsophisticated to grasp the concept of a marriage alliance. He quickly offered an explanation, his tone both coaxing and impatient. “Yes, Minerva. All you need to understand is that by marrying Hepham's mafia boss, our family's influence will grow stronger. After the alliance is sealed, we'll be able to carry out larger projects right under the government's nose—and reap far greater benefits!” Clifford spoke only of the benefits this marriage would bring to the Somerville family. His entire focus remained fixed on the family's interests, never once considering his eldest daughter's fate. Whether Minerva would live in happiness or misery—or even survive—was of no concern to him. “Why? Father, why must I be the one to marry?” Minerva's voice was steady, but her gaze locked on his, searching for even a flicker of guilt or remorse. But there was none. In Clifford's eyes, she saw only cold calculations, schemes woven with the precision of a man who viewed people as pieces on a chessboard. Hence, Minerva shook her head, her expression hardening as she rejected the proposal. “Father, have you forgotten? You have two other daughters—far more accomplished than I am. Surely they would be better suited for this marriage alliance.”