Elena
I didn't wake up to birdsong.
I woke up to noises so strong I couldn't ignore them anymore.
Shouting. Slamming doors. Heavy footsteps pounding through the mansion halls.
I sat up, heart already racing, and that's when I saw it—
the dress.
White and slick, so smooth it caught the light like water, lace so delicate it could unravel with one wrong move. It wasn't a gift. It was a warning.
A maid appeared in my doorway before I could even swing my legs off the bed.
"Mr. Blackwood says you have three hours to get ready."
"For what?" I asked, though my gut already knew.
Her eyes didn't flinch. "Your wedding, Miss."
I laughed—sharp and humorless. "He's lost his freaking mind."
The maid only bowed slightly and left.
⸻
By the time I stepped into the grand hallway, the mansion was a battlefield disguised as a fairytale. Florists rushed by with armfuls of roses, chefs barked orders in the kitchen, and photographers tested their camera flashes against the gold-trimmed walls.
And in the middle of it all, Damien stood like a king orchestrating a coronation. Black suit, dark tie, phone pressed to his ear, that dangerous calm that made everyone else move faster.
His gaze locked on me instantly. "You're late."
"It's barely eight a.m.," I snapped.
"And we're on a deadline." He stepped closer. "Unless you want Adrian Vale walking out of here with a signed engagement contract."
My stomach tightened. "This is about him."
"This is about us," Damien corrected, his tone low and lethal. "He won't take what's mine."
I glared. "I'm not yours."
"Not yet."
⸻
The ceremony was set in the ballroom—a cathedral of gold and white, dripping with enough roses to bury a city block. The air smelled like expensive perfume and quiet malice.
Guests began arriving, all dressed like they were attending the social event of the year. But one face hit me like a punch.
My father.
He stood at the back, hands in his pockets, eyes locked on me. His smile was slow, deliberate, the kind that made my skin crawl.
Damien noticed him too. His jaw tightened, and his grip on my hand was almost bruising as he led me to the front.
"You're safe," he murmured.
The priest began the vows. I was barely listening, aware only of the way my father's gaze burned into me.
And then—
Chaos.
The double doors slammed open so hard they rattled the chandeliers.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
A man strode in—tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a perfectly cut navy suit and a smirk that could start wars. My blood went cold.
I knew that face.
Adrain Vale.
My father's chosen fiancé for me. The man I'd sworn I'd never marry.
And behind him? My father himself.
The room went silent.
"Sorry to interrupt," Adrain said, his voice carrying easily over the stunned whispers. "But I believe this bride belongs to me."
Damien's entire body went rigid beside me. "Get out. Get the fuck out Adrain."
Ethan's smirk widened. "Funny. That's not what' what your father-in-law said when I informed him of our engagement contract. Seems your little wedding is… void."
He produced a stack of papers and handed them to the priest, who looked like he'd rather evaporate than be caught in the middle of this.
I just wanted to vanish.
Damien stepped forward, his voice dropping to something dark and dangerous. "This is my fiancée. Touch her and you'll lose the hand."
Ethan only looked amused. "You can't marry her, Blackwood. Not without breaking a legal arrangement worth eight figures."
The guests were eating this up—phones discreetly snapping pictures, murmurs spreading like wildfire.
Damien didn't blink. "Then I'll pay ten."
Ethan chuckled, leaning close enough for only Damien and me to hear. "It's not about the money. It's about taking what's yours."
Damien's grip on me tightened. "Over my dead body."
Ethan's smile didn't fade. "That can be arranged."
⸻
The ceremony was officially halted. The guests were escorted out—though not before the gossip had been immortalized in a hundred group chats.
I was dragged into Damien's study the second the doors closed.
He poured whiskey, slammed it back, then turned on me. "Why didn't you tell me about him earlier ?"
"I didn't think it mattered!" I shot back. "I said no to that arrangement years ago—"
"It matters when he walks into my wedding and tries to claim you like you're his property." His voice was a whip crack.
"And what would you have done if I told you?"
He stepped closer, his hands braced on the desk behind me. "Married you sooner."
The air between us was molten.
"We're still getting married," Damien said. "Today. Somewhere no one can crash it. Just you and me."
I should have said no. I should have told him this was insane.
But my heart was already hammering for reasons I didn't want to name.
And that's how I found myself saying, "Fine. But on my terms."
Damien's eyes darkened. "Careful, good girl. I'll take that as a challenge."