Vivian stood before the altar in a white wedding gown that fit her like it had been stitched into her skin.
Soft music filled the grand cathedral. Golden light streamed through stained-glass windows, painting the marble floor in warm colors. Rows of smiling faces watched her—family, friends, well-wishers.
Her parents sat in the front row, their expressions proud.
Happy.
Across from her stood Sebastian.
He wore a black groom's suit, tailored perfectly to his tall frame. His posture was straight, his expression calm, his dark eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her throat tighten.
He looked certain.
As though this moment had always belonged to him.
The priest cleared his throat.
"Will you, Sebastian Ravenscroft, take Vivian Ravenscroft as your lawfully wedded wife—to love her, honor her, and cherish her—"
"Yes," Sebastian said instantly.
The answer was firm.
Possessive.
Vivian's breath caught.
The priest turned to her. "And will you, Vivian Ravenscroft, take Sebastian Ravenscroft as your lawfully wedded husband—"
"Yes," she heard herself say.
The word slipped from her lips before her mind could catch it.
Applause erupted around them.
Sebastian stepped closer.
Their hands met.
The instant his fingers wrapped around hers, heat surged up her arm, startling in its intensity. His grip was warm. Steady. Familiar in a way that made her pulse race.
He lifted her hand slowly.
Then, without breaking eye contact, Sebastian leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.
The kiss was soft.
Lingering.
Wrong.
Vivian gasped—
—and jolted awake.
Her heart slammed violently against her ribs as she sucked in a sharp breath. Cold sweat clung to her skin. The dim ceiling of her bedroom swam into focus as she sat upright, clutching the sheets.
"What the—"
Her chest rose and fell rapidly.
A dream.
Just a dream.
Her phone buzzed on the bedside table.
Vivian glanced at the screen.
8:17 a.m.
Her eyes widened.
"Oh no—"
She sprang out of bed.
Vivian Ravenscroft was already late.
She rushed down the grand marble hallway of the Ravenscroft estate, clutching her handbag as her heels echoed sharply against the polished floor. Morning sunlight spilled through tall arched windows, glinting off gold-framed portraits lining the walls—faces of men and women who had built the Ravenscroft empire with iron wills and spotless reputations.
Normally, she would slow down to admire them.
Today, she didn't look twice.
Her thoughts were still tangled in the dream.
Sebastian.
The kiss.
The way it had felt far too real.
She shook her head sharply.
Ridiculous.
They were close—too close, some might say. He had raised her, protected her, watched over her since childhood. Her mind was simply confusing familiarity with imagination.
Or maybe—she almost smiled to herself—it meant something else entirely.
Maybe God was preparing her to meet her future husband soon.
Yes. That had to be it.
Her fingers fumbled with her car keys as she reached the base of the staircase.
"Vivian."
The voice came softly from behind her.
She stopped so abruptly her heel slid against the marble.
Her heart skipped—then settled into a familiar, uneasy rhythm.
She turned.
Sebastian Ravenscroft stood a few steps away, already dressed for the day in a tailored charcoal suit. His dark hair was neatly combed, his posture straight, his presence filling the space without effort.
He looked exactly like he had in the dream.
Calm.
Controlled.
Watching her.
"Good morning," Vivian said, forcing a smile.
His gaze swept over her in silence. She became acutely aware of herself—her slightly rumpled blouse, the blazer she had grabbed in a hurry, the loose strand of hair brushing her cheek.
"You're rushing," he said mildly.
"I overslept," she replied quickly. "I'll drive myself."
She lifted her keys.
Sebastian didn't acknowledge them.
Instead, he stepped closer.
Instinctively, Vivian stilled.
He reached out and adjusted her blazer, straightening the lapel, smoothing the fabric with careful, deliberate movements. It was a gesture so familiar she barely reacted at first.
He had done things like this all her life.
Yet today—
The memory of the kiss flashed through her mind.
Her chest tightened.
Stop it, she scolded herself. It's just Sebastian.
His fingers paused briefly near her collarbone—not improper, not invasive—just long enough to make her suddenly aware of how close he was. The faint scent of his cologne reached her.
Vivian inhaled sharply.
He withdrew his hand.
"There," he said quietly. "That's better."
She nodded, avoiding his gaze. "Thanks."
"You shouldn't rush like this," he added. "People notice when things are out of place."
"I'll be fine," she said too quickly. "I'll just—"
"I'll drive you," Sebastian interrupted smoothly.
She blinked. "What? No, I—"
"You're already late," he said. "Traffic is unpredictable."
As always, the decision was made for her.
"…Okay."
The drive passed in thick silence.
Vivian stared out the window, her thoughts restless.
Sebastian had always been like this—always present, always watching, always ensuring nothing slipped beyond his control.
When their parents were consumed by the Ravenscroft Group, he had stepped in without hesitation.
He became her constant.
Her guardian.
Her brother.
Why would she ever question him?
"You've been distracted lately," Sebastian said suddenly.
She stiffened. "Have I?"
"Yes." His gaze flicked briefly toward her. "That isn't like you."
A chill slid down her spine. "I've just been busy."
"Busy makes people careless."
The words lingered.
At the office, Vivian barely settled at her desk before Elias Ford appeared.
The intern stood awkwardly before her, clutching a small bouquet of flowers, his face flushed.
"Vivian… I know this isn't professional, but I like you. I was hoping we could talk. Outside work."
Her stomach dropped.
Before she could respond, the air shifted.
Sebastian stood behind her.
She hadn't heard him approach.
"This is inappropriate," he said calmly.
Minutes later, HR was called.
A letter was placed on the desk.
Termination effective immediately due to inappropriate workplace conduct.
Elias was escorted out.
The office returned to normal.
But something inside Vivian cracked.
Later, alone, she stared at the letter again.
The dream resurfaced.
The altar.
Their hands touching.
The kiss.
Her pulse quickened.
Sebastian had always protected her.
But protection, she was beginning to realize, could look dangerously like control.
From his nearby office, his voice carried.
"Yes," he said. "Consider it handled."
Vivian's fingers curled slowly into a fist.
Handled.
For the first time in her life, fear crept in—not of the world outside the Ravenscroft empire…
…but of the man who ruled her place within it.
And one terrifying question echoed in her mind:
How long had Sebastian been deciding her life for her—without her ever noticing?