Did you marry him willingly?

(Livia) I stood in front of the bathroom mirror and adjusted the blue dress. Nina had helped me with my hair earlier before returning to her duties. The dress fitted perfectly, and I liked how it looked on me. I hadn't worn anything this beautiful before my wedding. I checked my phone before leaving the bathroom. It was almost ten, and I didn't want Julian accusing me of being late. I returned to my room to collect the shoes that came with the dress. When I stepped into the hall, Mrs. Harris was waiting. "Mrs. Prescott, your husband is downstairs." "I'm ready." Her eyes moved over my dress. "Mrs. Prescott wanted you to wear the cream one." "I know." Mrs. Harris didn't argue. She accompanied me through the mansion until we reached the main sitting room. Julian was standing near the fireplace, speaking to a man holding a camera. His mother sat nearby with a woman I hadn't met. Julian looked toward us when we entered. His attention went straight to my dress, and I knew he noticed the color. His mother stood before I could say anything. She looked annoyed. "That isn't the dress I selected." "I preferred this one." She stared at me. "I specifically instructed the staff to prepare the cream dress." "Both dresses were sent to my room." "That doesn't mean you were supposed to choose." I glanced at Julian. He was watching us without saying anything. I wondered whether he would support his mother over something as ridiculous as a dress. I wasn't surprised when he finally spoke. "Just change it, Livia." "No." His mother looked offended. "Excuse me?" "I said no. I'm wearing this dress for the photographs." Julian approached me. "Don't start arguing over clothes." "Then stop telling me what to wear." He looked toward the photographer before speaking again. "We're already running late." His mother wasn't satisfied. "Julian, I chose that dress because it matches the arrangements." The photographer cleared his throat. "Actually, the blue works beautifully with the background we've prepared." Julian looked at him. "Then let's get started." His mother returned to her seat without another word. I followed the photographer toward the large windows overlooking the garden. Julian came to stand beside me, leaving enough distance between us for another person. The photographer noticed immediately. "Mr. Prescott, could you stand closer to your wife?" Julian moved beside me. "Like this?" "A little closer, please." I looked straight ahead as Julian placed his hand around my waist. His fingers pressed against the fabric of my dress, and I resisted the urge to move away. We had barely touched since the wedding ceremony. Being this close to him felt uncomfortable. "Mrs. Prescott, could you look at your husband?" I turned my head toward Julian. He was looking at the camera instead of me. The photographer took several pictures before asking us to change positions. Julian removed his hand as soon as we were allowed to move. "Now I'd like one with you facing each other." Julian looked irritated. "How many photographs do you need?" "Just a few more, sir." His mother interrupted from her chair. "Julian, cooperate with the photographer." He turned toward me. "Come here." I stood in front of him while the photographer adjusted his camera. Julian looked down at me with the same expression he'd worn since our wedding. I wondered what the photographs would look like. There was nothing affectionate about the way he watched me. "Can you both smile?" I tried, but Julian didn't. "Mr. Prescott, perhaps you could say something to your wife." Julian looked at the photographer. "Take the picture." The man obeyed. We spent another twenty minutes moving around the sitting room and garden. Julian barely spoke to me unless the photographer asked him to. By the time we finished, I wanted to return to my room. His mother approached us as the photographer packed his equipment. She looked at the images displayed on his camera. Her expression improved when she saw one of us standing beside the windows. I wondered whether she noticed how miserable we looked. "These will do." The photographer nodded. "I'll send the edited photographs to your office." She looked at Julian. "We'll release them with a statement about your marriage." Julian checked his watch. "Do whatever you want." He started toward the door. "Julian, your wife needs to accompany you to the charity dinner next week." He stopped. "What charity dinner?" "The annual Prescott Foundation dinner." Julian turned around. "I'm not taking her." His mother looked at me. "She's your wife. People will expect her to attend." "I don't care what people expect." His father entered the room before she could answer. He greeted the photographer and waited until the man left. Then he approached Julian with a folder in his hand. Something about his expression made me nervous. "We need to discuss the foundation dinner." Julian looked annoyed. "Mother already mentioned it." "Then you understand why Livia must attend." "I'm not interested." His father opened the folder. "Your grandfather's trustees are attending. They want to meet your wife before approving the final transfer of voting rights." Julian stared at him. "You never mentioned that." "I wasn't aware they intended to attend until this morning." I looked between them. There seemed to be another condition every time Julian wanted to avoid something involving me. I wondered how many more requirements his grandfather had left behind. None of them seemed to make Julian happier about being married. His father turned toward me. "Livia, you'll need to prepare for the dinner." "What exactly am I supposed to do?" "Attend with Julian and answer any questions about your marriage." I frowned. "What kind of questions?" "Nothing complicated. How you met, how long you've known each other, and your plans as a married couple." I stared at him. "You want me to lie?" His mother answered. "You want this marriage to succeed, don't you?" I looked at Julian. He was standing beside his father, looking as unhappy as I felt. Nobody had asked whether I wanted to attend the dinner. They had already decided everything. "I don't know what you expect me to say." Julian's father closed the folder. "We'll prepare you before the event." I looked at him. "Prepare me?" His mother approached. "Someone will explain what you should say and how you should behave." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. They wanted me to pretend I had a wonderful marriage while Julian treated me like an unwanted visitor. I had no intention of telling strangers about the storage room. But I wasn't comfortable having someone invent my life either. Julian's father checked his phone. "The trustees have requested a private meeting with both of you after the dinner." Julian frowned. "What for?" His father looked directly at me. "They want to hear from Livia herself." I stared at him. "About what?" "Whether she entered this marriage willingly." I looked at Julian, who had gone completely still. His father waited for my response, but I couldn't think of anything to say. The trustees wanted to know the truth about my marriage. And the truth was something neither family wanted anyone to hear.