Arielle had barely settled into the top-floor suite when a housekeeper from the Southall estate arrived, delivering a garment bag with an unsettlingly tight-lipped expression. Tucked inside, hidden beneath the fabric, was a digital disc.

“What exactly is the purpose of this?” Arielle asked, her voice laced with immediate suspicion.

The housekeeper avoided her gaze, clearing her throat nervously. “Mr. Southall’s instructions were very specific. You’ll understand the... requirements once you review the contents.”

Before Arielle could protest, the housekeeper stepped into the suite, her presence a silent reinforcement of Henrick’s control. “I am tasked with ensuring you are appropriately attired for Mr. Nightshire’s arrival. Please, change immediately.”

Arielle’s brow furrowed. As she reached for the clothes, the texture of the fabric—thin, synthetic, and entirely lacking in substance—made her heart sink. When she finally revealed the garment, she recoiled. It wasn't a dress; it was a provocative, costume-like ensemble designed to strip the wearer of any professional standing.

A cold, sharp fury radiated through her. Henrick Southall... you would truly reduce your own daughter to a mere bargaining chip for a business alliance?

Under the watchful, clinical eye of the housekeeper, Arielle had no choice. She retreated to the bedroom, the weight of the humiliation settling heavily in her chest. When she finally emerged, the ensemble—though undeniably highlighting her grace and striking silhouette—felt like a brand of shame.

The housekeeper stared, momentarily stunned by Arielle’s ethereal beauty, which even a garment this tasteless couldn't diminish. “Mr. Southall will be gratified by your cooperation,” she murmured.

“You’ve seen what you came to see,” Arielle said, her voice like ice. “Does your duty include staying to witness the rest of this charade, or can you find the exit on your own?”

Flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and haste, the housekeeper deposited the disc into the player and hurried out. Left alone, Arielle immediately tried to find her original clothes, only to realize with a surge of adrenaline that they had been taken. She was trapped in a costume she despised, waiting for a man she barely knew.

This is the peak of Henrick’s depravity, she thought, her hands trembling with suppressed rage. But if he thinks a piece of lace will break my resolve, he has severely underestimated me.