"You think scoring first place in an exam means you deserve my daughter?" Thomas Sinclair’s voice cut through the grand living room, sharp and heavy with disdain. He leaned forward, his piercing blue eyes locking onto me like a predator sizing up its prey. The air smelled of expensive leather and aged whiskey, a room built for intimidation. I met his gaze without flinching. "No," I said evenly. "I don’t think that at all." His thick brows furrowed. "Then why are you here?" I glanced at the antique clock on the wall. It was the exact moment in my past life when I had sat in this same chair, my hands clenched into fists, nodding meekly as Thomas dictated the terms of my future. I had been desperate, foolishly in love, willing to endure any humiliation to be with Scarlett. Not this time.