The corset screamed. Every time Aurora tried to take a breath, the whalebone stays dug into her ribs, reminding her that she didn't belong in this champagne-colored silk dress, nor in this ballroom, nor in this family.
"Don't breathe so hard, Aurora. You're going to burst the seams, and we don't have time to fix your disasters," her mother hissed, tightening the final knot with unnecessary force.
Aurora looked at herself in the full-length mirror. Where she should have seen a young woman ready for her engagement, she only saw what her family had repeated to her for nineteen years: a mistake. Her face, though featuring soft traits, was framed by a roundness her mother called a "lack of discipline." Unlike her younger sister, Elara, who looked as if she were carved from crystal and light, Aurora felt like an unfinished block of clay.
"Why do I have to wear this?" Aurora whispered, her voice cracking. "Baron Silas is fifty years old. He's been married three times. Everyone knows his wives disappear or..."
"Shut up!" Her mother spun her around roughly, her eyes flashing with hatred. "The Baron is our financial salvation. You should be grateful that anyone is willing to pay for a girl like you. Look at yourself, Aurora. You are the scrap of this house. Elara is the beauty who will give us status; you are merely the bargaining chip to clear our debts."
The bullying was nothing new. For as long as she could remember, Aurora had been hidden in back rooms when guests arrived, forced to eat scraps to "watch her figure," and treated with a disdain that had seeped into her very bones. But today was the final level of her humiliation.
When the doors to the grand hall opened, the noise of music and laughter hit Aurora like a slap. Her father, a man of rigid shoulders and cold eyes, took her by the arm. He held her not with affection, but with the firmness of someone restraining an animal headed straight for the slaughterhouse.
"Walk," he ordered. "And smile. Don't let the Baron think we're selling him defective merchandise."
The banquet was a parade of cruelty disguised as elegance. Aurora was seated at the head table, right next to Baron Silas Thorne. The man was a mountain of grease and sweat, with small, dark eyes that roamed over her with a lecherousness that made her want to claw off her own skin.
"She's a bit more... robust than the photos suggested," a guest at the neighboring table remarked, letting out a low chuckle.
"She's the pride of her father's pantry," another replied, sparking general laughter.
Aurora lowered her gaze, wishing the earth would swallow her whole. Beside her, Elara dazzled, laughing with the young nobles, being the center of attention she had always been. Aurora was just the visual punchline—the "fat one of the family" who was finally leaving.
Suddenly, she felt a damp, heavy hand on her thigh beneath the table. Aurora tensed, the air escaping her lungs. Baron Silas leaned in so close she could smell the stale wine on his breath.
"Don't worry about what those idiots say, my little Aurora," he whispered in her ear, his voice like the slither of a snake. "I like them with a bit of meat. It makes the taming process... more interesting."
Aurora tried to pull away, but the Baron's hand tightened with painful force on her leg.
"I have a special stable on my estate," Silas continued, with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "That's where I break my most rebellious mares. With you, Aurora, I'll take my time. I'll teach you to obey until you forget even your own name."
Terror paralyzed her. She looked at her father, searching for a shred of protection, a sign that he wouldn't leave her in the hands of this monster. But her father was already toasting with the Baron's brother, sealing the deal with a handshake. She had been sold.
The dinner continued like a blurred nightmare. At the end of the night, as the guests began to depart, her father approached her with a strangely soft expression.
"Come with me, Aurora. Before the Baron takes you to your new home, there is something you must fulfill. It is an old family tradition on the night of an engagement."
Aurora blinked, confused. "A tradition? Mother never told me about this."
"It's only for the firstborn," her father lied coldly. "We must go to the forest clearing that borders our estate. It's a rite of passage. You must leave your past behind to be a worthy wife."
For a second, a spark of hope flickered in Aurora's heart. Perhaps her father felt guilty? Perhaps this rite was a way of saying goodbye?
They walked in silence away from the mansion. The cold night air bit at the skin of her bare shoulders, but Aurora didn't complain. They ventured deep into the forest, the sound of the party fading until it was replaced by the crunch of dry branches under their feet.
"We're almost there," her father said. His voice sounded different—hollower.
They reached a small clearing where the trees closed in over them like dark claws. The moon barely illuminated the space.
"Father, this place scares me," Aurora whispered, hugging herself. "Let's go back."
"You're right to be afraid, Aurora," he replied, turning around.
In that moment, the moonlight hit her father's hand. Aurora felt her heart stop. There was no ritual symbol in his hands, no flowers, no incense.
Her father held a long, razor-sharp silver dagger. The glint of the metal was as cold as the gaze he directed at her.
"The Baron paid half the dowry in advance," her father said with terrifying calmness. "But the life insurance we took out on you in case of an 'accident' before the wedding... that will give us triple. You are useless as a daughter, Aurora. But dead, you will finally be valuable to this family."
Aurora backed away, stumbling over tree roots, her eyes filling with tears. "Why?" she sobbed. "I'm your daughter..."
"You are only a stain we wish to erase," he declared, raising the dagger.
Aurora turned and ran. She ran like she never had in her life, ignoring the pain of the corset, ignoring the branches scratching her face. She plunged into the depths of the forbidden forest, unaware that, in the darkness, something much more ancient and powerful than her father's malice was waiting for her.