Page 10 of Kidnapped By the Bratva

A perfect match forme? He barely knows Jackson, and I know even less about him—except that he’s sleazy and only interested in what he can gain from this arrangement.

I narrow my eyes, refusing to sit. “This isn’t about me, Dad. You’re doing this for business, not because you think he’s a good match for me.”

His face remains smooth, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—annoyance, maybe. “We’ve always done things this way, Sophia. Family first. Jackson comes from a good background, and his family’s business will benefit us. You should think of it as securing your future.”

My pulse quickens. More like securinghisbusiness deals. My father has always been shrewd when it comes to power and alliances, but forcing me into a relationship with someone like Jackson? It feels like I’m just another part of his empire, a pawn he’s willing to use to his advantage.

He leans back, his hands resting on the arm of the couch as though the conversation is already settled. “In fact,” he says, his voice casual, “I was just discussing wedding plans with Mr. Miller. It’s time to start thinking seriously about this, and you and Jackson should also add your opinions.”

My mouth goes dry, and I stare at him in disbelief. This isn’t just some casual date. He’s planning my future without even consulting me, discussing my marriage with someone I barely know. The idea of being tied to Jackson, of being forcedinto a life with him, makes me feel trapped, suffocated. I feel the walls of the room closing in around me.

“You can’t be serious,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “A wedding?”

Kace looks at me, his smile fading, replaced by a calm, businesslike expression. “It’s the next logical step, Sophia. We’ve been talking about this for months, and the time has come to solidify the arrangement. You should be happy—it’s a good match.”

I feel my heart sinking deeper. I want to scream, to protest, but what good will it do? My father isn’t the kind of man who listens to emotions. He operates on logic, deals, and power. In his mind, he’s giving me the best opportunity possible, tying me to a wealthy, powerful family. He’s not thinking about what I want. He never has.

Taking a deep breath, I force myself to speak. “What’s going on, Dad, why now?”

He meets my gaze, his expression softening once again, though I can see the steely resolve beneath it. “Because it’s time, Sophia. You’re not a little girl anymore. You’ve been patient, and now it’s time to secure your future. This is how it’s done in our world. You know that.”

I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak. The weight of his words presses down on me like a stone, and I can feel the fight draining from me. How am I supposed to argue with him when I know he won’t change his mind? He’s already made up his mind, already set the wheels in motion.

My father stands, walking toward me with that same reassuring smile. He places a hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. “You’ll see, Sophia. This is what’s best for you. Trust me.”

I nod slowly, even though every part of me is screaming that this is wrong. He doesn’t understand what this means for me, how much I don’t want this. Arguing with Kace Preston is like talking to a brick wall. The fight drains from me.

Kace takes a deep breath and steps closer to me, his presence looming. His gaze softens, but it’s not the kind of softness that offers comfort. It’s the calculated kind, the type meant to persuade, to make you feel like you’re part of something bigger. Something you can’t refuse.

“When I first saw you, Sophia,” he begins, his voice low but deliberate, “I knew you were going to bring me more than just peace. I saw honor in you. Strength. Fortune.” He pauses, letting the word hang in the air, heavy with implication. “I knew you would be an important part of this family, that you would elevate our name and legacy.”

My throat tightens as his words sink in. I’ve always known, deep down, that this was about more than just family. It was about what I could do for him, what I represented—a daughter who could solidify alliances, strengthen business ties, and secure power. It was never about love or care. It was about what I could bring to the table.

Kace places a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm but not harsh. He speaks with the same quiet authority that has always made me feel small in his presence. “You were meant for this. To bring honor to our name. To give me the peace I’ve sought for so long. It’s your duty, Sophia. It always has been.”

My chest feels tight, like I can’t breathe. There’s so much I want to say, a thousand words caught in my throat, but none of them come out. I stand there, my lips pressed together, my eyes stinging as the weight of his expectations crushes me. I want to scream at him, to tell him that I’m not some pawn he can use tobroker deals or elevate his name. I want to tell him that I’m hisdaughter, not some bargaining chip.

I don’t.

I can’t.

I stand frozen, the fight draining out of me, my heart twisting with hurt. Kace’s words echo in my mind, and it feels like he’s already decided my fate. Like my life was always going to be this—serving his ambitions, fulfilling his plans, and sacrificing any hope I had for a future that I could choose for myself.

He gives me a small, satisfied smile, clearly pleased with his speech. “It’s time to embrace what’s meant for you, Sophia. You’ll see. This is the right path.”

I want to scream that it’s not. That it’s anything but the right path. Instead I just nod, my lips pressed into a thin line as the tears threaten to spill over.

“I need to go,” I say quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. “I need to… get ready.”

Kace steps back, his hand falling away from my shoulder. “Of course,” he says, his tone businesslike again. “I appreciate your understanding, Sophia.”

I don’t reply. I turn away, my heart pounding in my chest as I make my way back up the stairs, each step heavier than the last. The hallway feels endless, and by the time I reach my room, I can barely hold it together. The second the door clicks shut behind me, I press my back against it and close my eyes, feeling the sting of tears burn behind my eyelids.

Fortune. Honor. Duty. That’s all I am to him. Not his daughter. Not someone he cares about or loves. Just a tool.

I sink down onto the bed, burying my face in my hands as the tears finally come. Silent, bitter tears of frustration and hurt. I’ve been so careful all these years, trying to play the role he wanted me to, trying to find some semblance of love or warmth in our relationship. But now I see it for what it really is.

He never saw me as a daughter. He saw me as an asset.

---