Chapter 3: The Golden Leash

Of course, here is the content of Chapter 3.

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Chapter 3: The Golden Leash

The Thorne family living room hadn't changed since Elara was a child. It was a museum of her sister's achievements—Delia’s cheerleading trophies gathering dust on the mantelpiece, a framed, garish portrait of Delia from her college graduation hanging pride of place, and on the coffee table, a stack of glossy bridal magazines.

Elara sat stiffly on the edge of the sofa, the floral pattern digging into the back of her legs. Across from her, her parents and Delia were arranged like a tribunal, their expressions radiating smug satisfaction. Since Kai’s “sensible” phone call, they had been insufferable, treating Elara with a cloying condescension that was somehow worse than their usual dismissiveness. They believed they had won.

Kai sat beside Elara, a calming, solid presence. To her family, he was the picture of a man trying his best to navigate a delicate situation. Only Elara could see the predatory stillness behind his polite smile, the barely perceptible glint in his eyes that told her he was enjoying every second of this charade.

"Now that we're all on the same page," Helen began, beaming at Kai as if he were her own son-in-law, "we can get to the fun part! Planning!" She clapped her hands together. "Delia has been doing some wonderful research."

Delia preened, pushing one of the expensive magazines forward. "It's important this is done with taste," she said, her voice implying that Elara possessed none. "My moment needs the right atmosphere."

This was their cue. Elara took a deep breath, clutching the brochure in her hands until her knuckles were white. It was for a lovely, elegant arboretum with a glass conservatory. Beautiful, tasteful, and, most importantly, priced within the realm of sanity for a middle-class family.

"I actually found a place," Elara said, her voice deliberately soft and hesitant. "The Silverwood Conservatory. It's… it’s so romantic. All the flowers and natural light…" She slid the brochure across the coffee table.

Helen picked it up and gave it a cursory glance. "Oh, that's… quaint, dear." The word 'quaint' was delivered like an insult.

Delia didn't even touch it. She let out a short, ugly laugh. "A conservatory? It looks like a glorified greenhouse. Elara, are we getting married or are we potting plants? Honestly."

Marcus, ever his favored daughter’s echo, grunted in agreement. "Doesn't look very impressive."

"But the price is very reasonable," Elara pressed gently, playing her part. "A big wedding isn't that important to me. I thought we could save—"

"Save?" Delia screeched, her voice rising to the petulant whine Elara knew so well. "This isn't about saving! This is about doing things properly! Do you think I'm going to walk down the aisle in some glorified shed? Everyone will think we're cheap! They'll think Daddy couldn't afford a real wedding!"

She snatched the bridal magazine from the table and slammed it open, her lacquered nail stabbing at a two-page spread. It was a photo of a breathtaking ballroom, gilded from floor to ceiling, with chandeliers that dripped crystals like frozen waterfalls. The Grand Imperial Hotel.

"This," Delia declared, "is a venue. This is where my entrance should be. It says I'm important. It says our family has class."

Marcus paled slightly as he squinted at the page. Elara knew he’d already looked up the pricing. He was a man who boasted about wealth he didn't have, but he was painfully aware of his bank balance. "Now, Delia, let's be realistic. A place like that… the costs are astronomical."

"So?" Delia shot back, her lower lip beginning to tremble. "I thought you said my happiness was the most important thing! I thought you wanted to make up for the fact that she,"—she jerked her head towards Elara—"is stealing my thunder! Are you saying my moment is only worth a budget venue?"

It was time for Kai to step in. He held up his hands in a gesture of placation, his expression one of perfect, reasonable concern. "Mr. Thorne is right, Delia. The Grand Imperial is in a different league entirely. The deposit alone is probably more than the entire budget for the conservatory." He turned to Elara, a picture of support. "Darling, your idea was lovely and very sensible. Perhaps we should stick with it. We don't want to put your parents in a difficult position."

It was a masterful stroke of reverse psychology. By siding with Marcus against Delia's extravagance, he had mortally wounded their pride. Helen's face tightened. She would never allow anyone to think they were in a "difficult position."

"Nonsense, Kai," Helen said sharply, her voice taking on a brittle cheerfulness. "Don't be silly. This isn't about being 'sensible.' This is a celebration! Marcus, we are not going to let our daughter be shamed. If the Grand Imperial is what it takes to honor Delia properly, then the Grand Imperial is what we will have."

Marcus puffed out his chest, his brief moment of financial prudence evaporating under the heat of his wife's glare. "Of course. Helen is right. Nothing is too good for my girl. We'll handle it." He tried to look magnanimous, like a king bestowing a great gift, but Elara could see the sweat beading on his temple.

Delia's tantrum vanished instantly, replaced by a triumphant smirk aimed directly at Elara. "See? It's settled. You should really be thanking me. Your wedding would have been so tacky otherwise."

A cold, satisfying calm washed over Elara. She didn't feel the sting of the insult. All she felt was the sweet click of another piece of the plan falling perfectly into place. She glanced at Kai, who gave her the slightest, almost imperceptible nod. Victory.

"Of course," Elara murmured, lowering her eyes to feign meekness. "Thank you, Delia. Thank you, Mom, Dad. It's… very generous."

The rest of the afternoon was a blur of similar manipulations. The catering? Elara suggested the hotel's standard package. Delia pitched a fit until her parents agreed to the premium five-course meal with the champagne fountain and imported caviar station she'd seen on a reality TV show. The flowers? Elara liked simple roses. Delia demanded orchids and peonies flown in from Holland, arranged by the city's most pretentious and expensive floral designer.

With every demand, Marcus's checkbook took another mortal wound, and with every victory, Delia, Helen, and Marcus grew more confident that they were in complete control. They were the generous benefactors, the loving family graciously allowing the difficult younger sister to have her wedding, so long as the golden child was properly worshipped. They were fitting the golden leash around their own necks, believing it was a crown.

Later that evening, back in the quiet sanctuary of their apartment, Kai forwarded Elara an email. It was the confirmation from the Grand Imperial Hotel. The non-refundable deposit, a staggering five-figure sum, had been paid. The transfer had come directly from Marcus Thorne’s savings account.

Elara stared at the screen, a slow, genuine smile spreading across her face. The knot of anxiety that had lived in her stomach for so long was gone, replaced by a humming, powerful certainty.

Kai came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. "Phase one complete," he whispered, his voice a low rumble of satisfaction against her ear. "They took the bait beautifully."

"They think they're buying Delia's happiness," Elara said, leaning back against him.

"No," Kai corrected her, his lips brushing her temple. "They're buying their own public execution. And they're paying top dollar for front-row seats."