Tangled in Obsession

The Lancaster family mansion was a symbol of wealth and legacy. Tall white columns guarded the entrance like sentinels, and vast chandeliers lit the marble floors with sterile elegance. To outsiders, it was a palace. But to Aria Lancaster, it was a prison built on silence and expectations. Aria sat in the corner of the grand dining room, her back straight, her eyes low. The long mahogany table stretched endlessly before her, filled with food no one ever touched. Helena Lancaster, her mother, sat at the head like a queen overseeing her court, her fingers adorned with diamonds, her expression sharper than the cutlery. She sipped her wine with a delicacy that could only be bred from generations of privilege. "Why are you still wearing that dress, Aria?" Helena’s voice sliced through the quiet like glass. "You’re not twelve anymore. Grow up." Aria looked down at her simple navy dress—neat, modest, clean. Not expensive enough, clearly. "Yes, Mother," she murmured, keeping her voice neutral. Her mother didn’t reply. She never did when Aria complied too quickly. There was no sport in that. To her left, Mcwell Lancaster scrolled through his phone. Aria’s father had the face of a man who had once been handsome and kind, now hardened into indifference. He barely looked up during meals. His time was measured in stock prices and quarterly reports, not family dinners. “Your grades?” he asked flatly without glancing at her. “I graduated top three in my class,” Aria said. “Should’ve been first.” That was the end of that. Across from her, Gerald—the eldest—checked his watch with the kind of boredom only an heir could afford. He was a replica of their father, down to the slicked-back hair and empty priorities. The only difference was Gerald's ruthless ambition wasn’t tempered by age. He’d smile in your face and bury you the next minute if it meant a better boardroom seat. “Father’s right,” Gerald added without looking at her. “Your job is to make us look good. Try harder.” Aria felt her stomach twist but didn’t show it. She had learned early on that tears had no power in this house. The last to speak was Marvin, her second brother. He leaned back in his chair, chewing with his mouth open. Aria had always found him the hardest to endure. Where Gerald was cold, Marvin was cruel. “What are you even doing here?” Marvin sneered. “You contribute nothing. You don’t work, you’re not married, and you’re not even pretty enough to be someone’s trophy. You’re just... filler.” Aria flinched as he flicked a crumb at her. Helena chuckled. “Marvin,” she said with false admonishment, “be a gentleman.” “I am,” he grinned, “I'm letting her sit at the table.” Aria took a deep breath, blinked away the sting behind her eyes, and slowly reached for her glass of water. Her hands were steady. Over the years, she had mastered that. She was twenty-three, but in this house, she still felt twelve. Every achievement, every act of obedience, every quiet attempt to earn affection had been dismissed or ridiculed. But she had learned to survive. Her sweetness had become armor, her wit a hidden blade. She played the fool because it was safer. She endured because no one expected her to fight. But Aria was watching. Listening. Waiting. --- That evening, she wandered into the small library no one used. It was the only part of the house that felt like hers. Dusty books lined the shelves, and an old velvet armchair sat beneath a stained-glass window. She curled up there with a worn copy of Austen, letting the words drown out the echoes of the dinner table. She didn’t hate her family—not exactly. It was more complicated than that. There were days when she dreamed of running away, of being someone else, of escaping into a world where kindness wasn’t currency but a language. But she stayed. Because part of her believed that if she left, it would mean they’d won. Outside, a sleek black car pulled up to the gate. She didn’t see it. She didn’t know that her life was about to change. Aria took a deep breath, blinked away the sting behind her eyes, and slowly reached for her glass of water. Her hands were steady. Over the years, she had mastered that. But this time, she didn’t stay silent. She looked up—just slightly—and locked eyes with Marvin. “You know,” she said softly, “if uselessness were an Olympic sport, you’d take gold. At least I know how to keep my mouth shut when I have nothing to offer.” Marvin’s smirk twitched. Helena paused mid-sip. Gerald glanced up, surprised. Mcwell didn’t react. There was a dangerous silence. Then Aria looked away, as if she hadn’t spoken at all. She took a small sip of water, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips. The room moved on, but Marvin didn’t speak again for the rest of the meal. --- Darius Thorne leaned back in the backseat of his custom Bentley, watching the mansion through tinted windows. His expression was unreadable—stoic, sharp, too calm. His assistant, Vincent, cleared his throat. “You sure about this one, sir?” Darius didn’t reply. His gaze remained fixed on the estate like a predator studying prey. He had read every file. Knew every detail. Aria Lancaster, the neglected daughter. Quiet. Smart. Overlooked. A ghost in her own home. Forgotten, but never forgettable. He had seen her once before, years ago, at a gala. She was standing alone near a fountain while her family mingled. Her dress had been plain. Her smile small. But her eyes—they haunted him. There was something fierce hidden beneath all that quiet. He had never forgotten her. Now, years later, her name had crossed his desk again—in a list of potential marriage alliances. Strategic unions were common in his world. But for Darius, this wasn’t just business. He could’ve chosen anyone. Models. Heiresses. Politicians’ daughters. But he wanted her. Not because she was a pawn—but because she wasn’t. Because she had survived in a house designed to crush her. Because he knew what it felt like to be invisible. And maybe—just maybe—he wanted someone to see him, too. “Send the proposal,” he said finally. Vincent blinked. “Now?” “Now.” As the car pulled away from the Lancaster estate, Aria sat in her chair in the library, tracing the gold leaf on a page and wondering if she'd ever be free. The world saw her as insignificant. But Darius Thorne had just decided to make her his queen. And the world would soon burn for it.