Betrayed At The Altar, Married For Revenge

beside Adrian, my fingers resting stiffly in my lap, the ring on my hand catching faint reflections from the passing streetlights. It felt unfamiliar. Unreal. Just hours ago, I had

cture without softening its severity. The car came to a stop in front of the entrance. Before I could move, Adrian stepped out and walked around to open my door. His movements were smooth, practiced, as though this routine had been repeated countless times. I hesitated for only a second before stepping out. The air felt cooler here, quieter, cut off from the noise of the outside world. As I followed him toward the entrance, the large doors opened automatically. Staff stood inside. Waiting. Lined up neatly, dressed in uniform, their expressions neutral but attentive. "Welcome back, sir," one of them said. Their voices blended together, synchronized in a way that felt almost rehearsed. Adrian didn't slow his pace. "Prepare the master suite," he said. "She'll be staying there." A brief pause followed. Subtle. Barely noticeable. But I caught it. The staff's attention shifted to me, curiosity flickering briefly before being hidden again. "She?" one of them asked carefully. Adrian stopped. Then turned slightly. His hand came to rest lightly against my back, guiding me forward with quiet authority. "This is my wife." The words settled heavily in the air. I felt every pair of eyes on me, assessing, recalculating. "Understood, sir," they responded in unison. As we moved further inside, the doors closed behind us with a soft, final sound. The interior was just as imposing as the exterior. High ceilings stretched above us, the marble floors reflecting the dim lighting. Every detail was perfect, polished, precise-but there was no warmth in it. No sense of comfort. Only control. I pulled slightly away from him as we walked. "You didn't have to say that," I said quietly. "Yes, I did." I frowned. "Why?" He stopped walking and turned to face me. "Because from this moment on, you are my wife," he said. "Not just privately. Publicly. Completely." My heartbeat quickened. "This is a contract," I reminded him. "It's also a role." His gaze held mine steadily, leaving no space for argument. "You will act like my wife," he continued. "And you will be treated like one." "And if I don't?" I asked. A brief silence followed.