Chapter 1
Skai
Iknew the minute I picked up that pen, my life would no longer be mine. But what choice did I have? My protests fell on deaf ears, as it always did with my uncle. I had been under his thumb since I was twelve years old and this was just another dictation I was meant to follow—a means to an end.
Marriage.
The word used to mean so much to me, especially after watching the love between my parents. I had always hoped to find someone away from this place—away from the ruthless dynasty called Choe.
But with one little signature, those wishes would disappear.
My eyes were trained on the pages in front of me, twiddling my fingers in my lap, a habit that always made my uncle's gaze harden. It's a good thing his desk was hiding it.
“Stare at it for as long as you wish, but the outcome will not change,” he voiced.
When I looked up, he was nonchalantly reviewing other documents, reading them through as if we were discussing the weather and not the marriage he arranged for me without my consent.
At fifty-two years old, Aran Choe radiated composed power over any room he entered.
He had a sharp, rectangular face with a defined jawline with fine lines running across his forehead.
His piercing, dark eyes were deep-set and traces of silver started to pollute the roots of his thick jet black hair.
Decades of being the CEO of the Choe Jewelry dynasty hardened him in ways I could never understand.
And I didn't want to.
“You can't expect me to just agree to this,” I breathed out, flipping through the pages and stopping when I couldn't understand past page three.
“I care very little about what you do or don't agree with.” He dove into the desk drawer for a stamp before laying the Choe seal on the edge of the page. “All the necessary details have been arranged and, from what I've heard, Benji Won will make a suitable match for you.”
Suitable?
“I won't—”
“You will,” he interrupted, shuffling the papers together in his hands and grabbing a file folder, “because it will bring the Choe family back from the brink of bankruptcy.”
“The company being in ruin is not my—”
“This company is our legacy and I will not sit by and watch it fall.”
“I never wanted any part of this.”
At that, he glanced towards me for the first time since I entered his home office. I tried not to squirm in my seat, forcing myself to hold his ruthless gaze.
It was the truth.
I never wanted anything to do with the business.
With much effort throughout the years, I managed to stay far away from the jewelry empire and from my family's money.
Everything I had, I worked my butt off to get—apartment, clothes, a life.
It might not be much, but it was mine. I thought that limiting the ties to my family—to him—would be enough to just fade into the background.
Oh how wrong I was.
“This matter is not up for debate. I've spent years trying to clean up the mess your father left, and forming a union with the Won family will open doors to endless possibilities.”
“Endless possibilities for you.”
He stared at me unimpressed. “You are a Choe, are you not? You may choose to hide under that pitiful name of Skai Monroe, but you are a Choe. My sister named you Choe Si-ah for a reason. It is time you started acting like it.”
I bit my tongue to stop myself from lashing out at him.
My stage name was deeply personal to me and he always chose to take a stab at it whenever he was sharing his thoughts on my music.
He saw it as a hobby, a worthless pass time that wouldn't serve the needs of his empire.
He wanted me in the office, watching him over his domain, learning the things that would help me lead someday.
“And that starts with taking a husband and stopping this need to speak out of turn. Carry yourself with grace and dignity, Si-ah.” He shook his head and returned his focus to the documents. “Perhaps having a husband will finally teach you that lesson.”
Yes, if you're wondering, my uncle was living in a different time because he clearly still thought women were only good for the husbands they secured and the children they would bear.
“I don't need a husband.”
“Spare me the theatrics and sign the contract.”
He rose to his feet and walked to the mahogany cabinets to the right, opening it and leaning down to the safe. Four pings echoed across the room before a warm ding sounded and the safe flew open. He dropped the folder inside and closed the door, sealing whatever was inside.
And he spared me another glance as he walked back to his lofty chair.
“I don't have all day. Sign the papers and leave.”
“I'm not signing anything.”
“Delusions are beneath the Choe name so let us not involve them here.” He inched the marriage contract closer to me without breaking eye contact. “You are signing those papers, Si-ah, whether you want to admit it to yourself or not.”
His eyes dipped to the desk drawer where he pulled out a black pouch, and when he sat upright and emptied the contents onto the desk, I stared at remnants of a broken disk.
“You seem to forget that these freedoms you enjoy are a privilege, and that they can easily be taken away. These hobbies of yours—the studio sessions for what you call music—are funded by the Choe name.”
“They aren't!”
“But they are. Especially that producer who thought it in his best interest to rework your song and sell it to another artist. A better artist.”
My heart started hammering against my ribcage, my eyes widening at the words. It wasn't true. It couldn't be. I spent hours working on that song, fine tuning every line, every verse, so that my debut would be perfect.
“No… he…”
A recorder fell out of the pouch and after a few clicks, the melodies of the song—my song—floated through the air.
Only it wasn't me. They didn't even try to make it their own, and I knew there would be no way I could release it now.
I'd get ruined for trying to copy another artist, a stain I didn't need on my upcoming music career.
Former music career.
My shoulders sagged as the bitter taste of defeat hit my tongue.
“He didn't need much convincing. Just another example of what people will do for money.”
At that, my eyes narrowed to a glare but it didn't phase him one bit. Instead, he set the pouch aside and interlaced his fingers, meeting my hard gaze with a practiced one of his own.
“You have two choices. Either you sign on the dotted line and be done with this irrelevant conversation,” he paused, tilting his head.
“Or you continue this pitiful act of rebellion, to which I will use the power of the Choe name to ensure you are blacklisted wherever the wind carries.
Your social media will vanish in seconds, you will not see the inside of a recording studio again, your brand deals will be canceled, and you'll move back into this house.”
My breathing picked up, staring at my uncle in disbelief.
“You wouldn't,” I retorted, but the words came out in a whisper—a plea.
He didn't bother with a response, just continued to stare me down with his lethal, uncaring gaze.
He wasn't going to back down. No, this man never backed away from anything.
The ache in my chest made it almost impossible to breathe, and the sandwich I had for lunch before coming here threatened to make its debut right on the patterned rug beneath my feet.
And that still wouldn't stop it.
No matter how much I protested, or how upset I got, nothing would change his mind. This was a power move—linking two of the prominent Korean families together for however long it suited him. I was just a pawn on his chest board, always have been, always will be.
I could feel my life, my livelihood, slipping through my fingers like sand.
Options were also a luxury I didn't have.
If I fought this, everything I worked for so far would be for nothing.
I wouldn't be able to do the one thing that freed me from this torment—from this cage called the Choe Jewelry dynasty.
My gaze broke from his, losing all fight and looking down at the papers taking shape as my new shackles.
And with a shaky hand, I reached for the pen and signed my life away.