They had been waiting for almost an hour now, and still, there was no sign of the groom.
Sofia sat rigidly on the edge of the wooden bench, her hands clenched together in her lap to stop them from trembling. Isadora had made it very clear—they had to be early. "He despises tardiness," she had warned in a clipped tone, as though arriving late would be a crime punishable by exile.
So here she was, dressed in white, lips dry, heart thudding against her ribs, waiting for a man she had never met. Not even a glimpse. Just a name spoken quietly by Raymond: Adam Ravenstrong.
A name that sounded more like a brand than a person.
And this was only the beginning of their so-called marriage, a relationship signed on paper but hollow in meaning. She already felt less like a bride and more like a newly hired employee, waiting for her cold, demanding boss to show up and sign a contract. Her wedding didn't feel like a celebration. It felt like a transaction.
Still, Sofia kept her head high and waited. The judge chatted casually with Raymond in the corner, laughing about something she couldn't quite hear. It was clear they were old friends.
What unsettled her even more was how easily the judge mentioned Adam's name, as though he knew him personally. This wasn't just a civil ceremony. It felt arranged, and rehearsed, as if everyone here knew what was going on except her.
When Raymond leaned closer and whispered that she was lucky that Adam was powerful and that being his wife would guarantee her a secure future, it didn't ease her nerves. If anything, it made her stomach twist tighter.
A secure future? She didn't even know the man. Didn't know his age, his voice, or the way he smiled—if he even smiled at all.
Raymond spoke of her as if she belonged in this world of influence and polished control as if she was one of them. No judgment in his tone, no hesitation. Just certainty.
Sofia wanted to ask him then—Why me? Why would a man like Adam Ravenstrong, who could have anyone, choose someone like her? There were women far more suitable, more refined, more willing.
But she stayed quiet.
Because she knew that in this world, questions like that didn't get answers.
"I don't think your groom is going to show up," Anne leaned in and whispered, her voice low but unmistakably sharp beneath the feigned concern. Her eyes flicked toward the entrance, then back at Sofia, scanning her from head to toe as if waiting for her to fall apart.
Sofia didn't respond. She kept her hands folded tightly in her lap, her knuckles pale beneath her skin.
Elise, seated beside Anne, let out a soft chuckle. "Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe he's not into arranged marriages after all," she said with a shrug, her tone coated in mock sympathy. "It kind of looks like he's no longer interested in marrying you."
The words landed like ice against Sofia's chest.
She could feel their eyes on her—waiting for a reaction, waiting for cracks to show. But she refused to give them that satisfaction. Instead, she forced her back straighter and her chin higher, even as uncertainty clawed at her insides.
Maybe they were right, maybe she had been a fool to believe this was ever going to happen.
But if there was one thing she knew how to do, it was endure humiliation with grace. So, she smiled and kept staring at the closed door, silently praying it would open before her pride crumbled completely.
Then, just five minutes before the ceremony was scheduled to begin, the door creaked open.
Everything stilled. The murmur in the room died instantly. Sofia's breath caught in her throat as her heart pounded against her chest as she saw him.
He stepped into the room like he owned the air, the light, and every single heartbeat that dared to echo around him. Adam Ravenstrong. Tall. Imposing. Devastatingly handsome in a dark suit that clung to him like it was stitched by sin itself.
And beside him was the same man she had seen with him that night at the club.
Anne and Elise gasped in unison as they recognized him. The man Sofia had been unable to forget. The stranger who haunted her thoughts, her dreams, her shame. The man who had unknowingly shattered the last piece of innocence she had been holding onto.
It was him, the man she had given herself to. And now, he was her groom.
A chaotic mix of emotions surged through Sofia all at once. Relief that he wasn't a stranger after all... no, he was the stranger. The man who had made her feel wanted, even if just for a fleeting night. The man she had tried to forget, yet found herself secretly hoping to see again despite everything.
But her silent thrill dissolved into dread the moment his eyes found her.
His eyes found hers with a stillness that froze the room—sharp as steel, stripped of warmth, and heavy with judgment.
His jaw clenched, and his stride was slow, deliberate, and heavy with meaning as if every step was a warning.
Sofia's spine stiffened as he drew closer, and the atmosphere in the room thickened with invisible tension. His expression darkened, not a trace of warmth or recognition in his eyes, only restrained fury.
And in that instant, Sofia realized she might not just be marrying a stranger. She might be marrying a man who already hates her for just existing in his perfect world.
Her heart pounded against her chest as he stalked toward her, each step deliberate, predatory. His eyes never left hers—not even for a blink—as if he were hunting something... or confirming a suspicion that already wounded him.
Then he stopped—mere inches away. He was close enough that she could feel the heat of his presence. Close enough to smell the crisp, clean scent of him—sharp, expensive, and maddeningly familiar. It wrapped around her like smoke, making it hard to breathe. Her body stiffened, instinctively reacting to the magnetic pull between them, and she fought the tremor building in her legs.
And then his words hit harder than a stab in her heart.
"You can't be my wife," Adam said coldly, his voice like a blade dipped in ice. Clear.
But Sofia refused to step back. She lifted her chin, her eyes burning as she stared into his. Even if her legs threatened to betray her, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her crumble.
"You just need an accessory wife, right?" she said, voice steady despite the storm in her chest. "So what's the problem?"
Adam's jaw clenched. And then came the blow.
"Because you're not a virgin." His voice dropped, but the venom laced in his words made every syllable pierce. "That was one of the conditions," Adam added.
A defending silence fell in the courtroom.
The judge froze mid-turn, disbelief flashing across his face. Raymond's eyes widened, caught between outrage and confusion. Anne and Elise gasped audibly, their hands flying to their mouths. Adam's best friend shifted uncomfortably by the wall, his gaze darting toward the door as if wanting to vanish.
Sofia's breath hitched. She had expected pain, but not public humiliation. Not this. His words weren't just a rejection. They were a sentence. And she didn't even know which part of her shattered first.
"You're an arrogant bastard!" Sofia hissed, her voice trembling with rage as her hand flew before she could stop herself.
The slap rang out like thunder, echoing through the courtroom and freezing everyone in place. Adam's head jerked slightly to the side, but he didn't flinch. He just turned back to her with that same infuriating calm, as if her fury was beneath him—as if she was beneath him.
Tears burned behind her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Not here. Not in front of him.
"You knew what you took from me," Sofia said, her voice cracking now, broken with disbelief and betrayal.
And still, he looked at her with smug disdain. No remorse. No softness. Just cold, calculated judgment, as if she were nothing more than a mistake he regretted making. As if she were disposable.
Her chest heaved, pain blooming like fire through her ribs, but she didn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her collapse.
She turned on her heel, her gown swaying with every determined step. She walked away from him, from all of them, without looking back because if she did, the tears would win.
And she wouldn't let him see her fall apart. Not after everything he'd already taken from her—her pride, her trust, her innocence.
Now, she was prepared to lose the only place she had ever called home, the one thing tethered to her past, her memories of her once happy family. She would watch it slip through her fingers before she ever lowered herself to beg the billionaire who took her virginity like it meant nothing.
Anne and Elise stormed out of the courtroom, heels clacking against the polished floor, but not before throwing Adam sharp, judgmental stares that could have cut glass. Isadora followed closely behind, muttering to herself as she tried—and failed—to calm her rising temper.
Raymond lingered for a moment, disappointment etched deep into his face. He looked at Adam not with anger, but with something far worse—disbelief. Like he was staring at a stranger, not the boy he'd watched grow into a titan of industry.
"I can't believe you acted like that, Adam," he said slowly, his voice heavy with restrained emotion. "I've seen you ruthless in boardrooms, calculating with billion-peso deals, but never... immature. Never like this. I'm deeply disappointed."
Without waiting for a reply, he offered his arm to Isadora, who took it with a huff, and the two walked out, leaving Adam alone with the echo of his mistakes.
The judge, still behind the bench, let out a dry chuckle and stepped down, approaching his old friend with an amused shake of his head.
"Well, I never thought I'd see the day the great Adam Ravenstrong got slapped in my courtroom, by his own bride, no less," he said, clapping Adam on the shoulder. "You've broken hearts before, but this? This is history."
He didn't move for a long time.
The room had emptied, the sting on his cheek had dulled, and yet Adam stood there like a man frozen at the epicenter of his own disaster.
The echo of Sofia's slap had long since faded, but the weight of it—what it meant—still reverberated through him like an aftershock.
She had looked at him like he was the worst kind of man.
And for the first time in a long time… he agreed.
He exhaled slowly and loosened his tie, the silk suddenly feeling like a noose.
He should've walked in and kept it professional. Cold. Detached. He had done it before—with deals, with people, with women. He was good at that. Controlled.
But the moment he saw her—her—the woman who had haunted his thoughts since that night at LUXE, standing there in a white dress meant for him, every tightly locked door inside his chest slammed open.
He saw the disbelief in her eyes the moment recognition clicked.
He saw the flicker of something else, too—hope.
And he crushed it.
Because all he could hear in his head was the condition he himself had set—the one he'd demanded from his godfather.
If Raymond wanted him to take a wife, she had to be untouched. That was his one rule. And he had made it painfully clear: non-negotiable.
But when he saw her standing there—that same woman from the club, the one he couldn't forget no matter how hard he tried—it had felt like the universe was playing a sick joke. That the girl who had given herself to him, the one who vanished without a word, was now the woman promised to be his wife.
And in his anger, in his hurt, he'd let the cruelest version of himself speak first.
You're not a virgin. That was one of the conditions.
The words tasted like acid now.
He hadn't seen the way her eyes broke until it was too late. Hadn't heard the gasp in the room. Hadn't cared—until she slapped him like someone trying to wake him from a trance.
It worked.
And now she was gone.
"I deserved that," he muttered.
The judge raised a brow. "Deserve it? You practically earned it in advance."
Adam let out a breath and finally moved, straightening his jacket.
"I'm sorry I wasted your time, Nolan. I'll make it up to you, I promise. But right now..." He looked toward the door she had disappeared through, eyes sharp with new resolve. "I have a marriage to save and a woman to chase."