I'll do it," Jean said. Her voice cracked. "I'll marry you."
She didn't know how she said it. The words just left her mouth before her brain could catch up. Her hands were shaking.
Zane didn't blink. He just stared at her, and slowly… he smiled.
It wasn't warm. It wasn't kind.
It was satisfaction. Control.
She hated it.
"Good girl," he muttered, then looked at the screen still showing Greyson. "But what if you hadn't? Ever think about that?"
Jean's stomach dropped.
She swallowed hard. "Let him go now. You got what you wanted."
He turned his head slightly, eyes unreadable. "Maybe. Maybe not. What if you'd made me wait longer? What if I had to hurt him first?"
"Don't," she said while shaking her head. "Please."
That damn smirk again. He was enjoying this.
"You'll be my wife in a few hours," he said calmly. "Act like it."
Then he walked out, shutting the door behind him like it was any other day. Like he hadn't just broken her life into pieces.
The room went silent.
Jean stood still. She didn't breathe.
Then everything crashed.
She sat on the cold floor. Her hands covered her face as the tears poured out.
Why?
Why her?
Why now just when things felt a little okay?
She had finally felt something close to peace yesterday. A tiny bit of normal. She had smiled walking home.
And now? Now she was engaged to a man she didn't even know… because a child she loved was used as bait.
She cried harder.
"This can't be real" she said to herself.
But it was.
And she had no idea how to survive it.
Zane stepped out of his room, closing the door quietly behind him.
Jean had said yes.
His hands were still shaking. But this time, not from rage.
It was something else now. Something far more dangerous.
Joy.
Territorial, violent joy.
He walked straight to the main hall, his steps loud, sharp. "Martha!"
The head servant, a sharp woman in her sixties, came running. Two other maids followed, confused and wide-eyed.
Zane didn't wait for their questions.
"She's going to be my wife. In less than an hour."
There was huge silence in the room.
Martha blinked. ".....the girl in your room?"
Zane's jaw flexed. "Her name is Jean. You better remember that."
"I...of course, sir."
He opened a drawer in the side cabinet, pulled out a black box, and handed it to Martha.
Inside was a dress. Long. Blue. Delicate. It shimmered under the light, soft as air, but heavy with meaning.
"Help her change into this. Fix her hair. Be gentle she's bruised."
Martha looked up, confused. "Sir… she just got out of something horrible. Are you sure she's ready?"
Zane's voice dropped. "She said yes."
He looked at all of them. "From this moment on, you treat her like this house belongs to her. You answer to her. One wrong word, one wrong glance... if she even feels unsafe around you…"
His voice cracked slightly with anger.
"I'll tear this house apart."
Martha nodded, clutching the box. "We'll take care of her. I promise."
Zane nodded once. Then pulled out his phone and called Jared.
"Get the priest. I don't care if you have to drag him here. Forty minutes."
"Zane...."
"You have thirty-nine now."
He ended the call and stared down the hallway toward his bedroom.
She was in there.
Scared.
Silent.
His.
And by tonight… she'd be wearing his name like a brand.
Not out of love.
Not yet.
But love would come.
Or maybe…
He'd drag it out of her.
Zane's room:
The knock was soft. Too polite for the storm outside.
Jean didn't answer.
She sat on the edge of the bed. Her arms rested in her lap. Her eyes were open, but blank. Just... looking.
The door creaked open.
Martha stepped in, holding a blue dress over her arms. Two younger maids followed behind with a tray of makeup and brushes.
Jean didn't move.
"Sweetheart," Martha said gently. "We need to get you ready."
No response.
Martha stepped closer and placed the dress on the bed. The fabric spilled like water silky, expensive, meant for some special night. Not this.
"He wants the ceremony to happen soon," Martha added, voice low.
Jean looked down at the floor. Her hands were cold.
One of the maids reached out to remove her shirt. Jean didn't fight it. She didn't even blink.
They dressed her slowly.
The zipper went up the back. The fabric settled around her body like it didn't belong. Like none of this belonged.
Someone tried brushing her hair. Another brought out lipstick.
The youngest maid leaned in to apply it, but her hand slipped. Her finger brushed the cut on Jean's bottom lip.
Jean flinched, just barely.
"I'm sorry," the girl whispered, panicked.
Jean looked up at her. Her voice came out quiet, hollow.
"It's okay."
But her eyes said otherwise.
Martha watched all of it, standing still. Her chest tightened at the sight. Jean looked like a porcelain figure, pale and empty, going through the motions. Like she'd already disappeared inside.
"You don't have to be brave" Martha said softly. "Not right now."
Jean looked at her. Just for a second.
Then she looked away.
And said nothing.
The silence in the room felt loud. Too loud.
Marriage ceremony:
Zane stood in front of the mirror, straightening his tie with calm hands and wild eyes.
The suit looked perfect on him black, sharp, and cruelly elegant.
But his face didn't match.
There was a softness there. A smile that didn't belong to a man like him.
He looked too calm. Too happy.
Like this was the only thing he'd ever wanted.
Jared entered, followed by a quiet priest in simple clothes.
"It's time," Jared said.
Zane nodded, still staring at his reflection. "Let everyone be quiet when she walks in," he said. "I want to hear her steps."
The room had been arranged in under an hour.
Nothing grand just dim lights, quiet music and white lilies along the sides.
It looked like a wedding, but it didn't felt like one.
And then she walked in.
Jean.
She wore the blue dress he'd chosen. It was beautiful. Flowing. Soft.
But it looked too heavy on her.
Zane froze.
She looked smaller than he remembered. Her shoulders drawn in, arms stiff at her sides.
Her eyes were empty like the light had been shut off somewhere deep inside.
She didn't look at him. Didn't look at anyone. Just walked forward like her feet didn't belong to her.
Zane's heart kicked hard.
She was a mess.
But to him, she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
The priest began.
Zane said his vows like they were facts, not promises. His voice never shook.
Every word was clear. Final.
Then the priest turned to her.
"Do you take him...."
"I do," she said before the sentence finished.
Quiet. Distant.
Like the words had cost her everything.
Zane slid the ring on her finger, slowly. His fingers brushed hers, but she didn't move.
Not a flinch. Not a blink.
The priest looked between them.
"You may kiss the bride."
Zane didn't.
He just stared at her.
Because this...this wasn't how he imagined it.
She was his now.
But not really.
And that hollow look in her eyes?
It would haunt him.
Even on the happiest day of his life.