The church was a cathedral of light, adorned with cascading roses in shades of blush and ivory.
Crystal chandeliers sparkled above, reflecting on the polished marble floors as guests whispered behind polite hands. Everyone had expected this day, yet none had imagined it would arrive so quickly.
Ciara's heart raced as she walked down the aisle, each step echoing like a drumbeat in her chest. The lace of her gown clung to her like a second skin, the veil brushing her shoulders softly.The whole church went quiet as she walked and everyone stared.
She couldn't believe it
Her cousin.
Across the room going to marry her.The billionaire, the media face, it was now true.
She caught a glimpse of Will at the altar, standing tall in a sharply tailored suit, his dark eyes hidden behind a calm mask. Calm, yet… something flickered there—an unspoken tension she couldn't place.
Her mother's voice rang in her head, filled with pride and warnings alike.
"Remember, Ciara, love isn't always what you think it is. But you can survive it. Be strong."
She swallowed hard, feeling the eyes of the entire congregation fixated on her, as if her every move was a performance she could not fail.
Will's lips curved into a polite smile as she reached him, but it didn't reach his eyes. He took her hand gently, but his grip was firm, almost possessive. The minister began speaking, but Ciara barely heard the words. All she could feel was the heat radiating from Will's palm and the thrum of her own heartbeat.
As the vows began, she felt a tremor of fear—and anticipation.
"I, Will…"
his voice was steady, measured. And yet, as he spoke, a flicker of something unspoken passed between them, a shadow beneath the bright surface. Ciara's stomach knotted. She had dreamt of this moment as a child, imagining a life of romance and laughter.
But now… reality had a strange, heavy weight.
When it came time to exchange rings, Will's hand brushed hers, sending an electric jolt up her arm. She looked into his eyes, searching for reassurance. Instead, she saw a storm brewing, something dangerous and secret.
And for a fraction of a second, she wondered if she truly knew the man she was about to call her husband.
The minister pronounced them married, and the applause erupted, yet Ciara felt disconnected, as if she were watching herself from afar. Will bent down to kiss her, and the world narrowed to just that—the taste of champagne and the heat of his lips.
Then, just as the crowd cheered, Will's phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at it, and the smile slipped from his face like it had never existed. His hand tightened around hers, and Ciara saw it—something she couldn't unsee: the look of panic, the flicker of dread.
"Will… what is it?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
He forced a smile, the kind that didn't reach his eyes. "Nothing, Ciara. Just… just a little work thing."
But as he led her out of the church, past the flurry of photographers and well-wishers, Ciara's mind refused to let go of that moment. She didn't know it yet, but this wedding was the beginning of a story that would unravel everything she thought she knew about love… and trust.
And somewhere in the shadows, a figure watched them leave—a figure whose presence meant that nothing about this m
arriage would be simple.