She couldn't sleep. She lay on her bed fully dressed, the wedding gown folded carefully across the chair instead of hanging where it belonged. The room smelled faintly of fabric starch and roses, and the scent made her chest tighten every time she breathed in.
Her phone rested face-down on the nightstand. Adrian had not called again. That silence unsettled her more than his voice ever had.
She stared at the ceiling and let her mind drift somewhere she had avoided since waking beneath that white ceiling. She let herself remember not just the end, but the unraveling that led there.
It had started three months after the wedding. She remembered the morning clearly because she had been late. She had spilled coffee on her blouse and laughed while Adrian handed her a clean one from his closet, already anticipating her needs. That was how he worked. He made his control look like care.
That morning, he suggested a small talk about a restructuring meeting.
"It is just to streamline communication," he had said casually while fastening his cufflinks. "Your father trusts you, and the board listens to you. It would be easier if authority flowed through one channel."
She had frowned slightly."Which channel?" she had asked. He had smiled.
"Ours." At the time, it had sounded reasonable.
She had taken the proposal to her father, framing it as efficiency rather than consolidation. Her father had delayed, but she had reassured him. She had reminded him that Adrian was family now, and she had told him that unity was strength. The first document she had convinced him to sign transferred temporary signing authority. Temporary had become permanent within six months.
The second memory came sharp and bitter. She remembered standing in the boardroom as Adrian presented quarterly losses that did not make sense. The numbers had been technically correct, but the framing was deliberate. Certain assets were suddenly liabilities. Certain profits were deferred on paper and he had created the illusion of instability.
She had questioned him privately afterward."You did not tell me you planned to reclassify those divisions," she had said.
He had touched her arm gently."I did not want to worry you," he had replied. "You have been under so much pressure already."
She had believed him, and that belief had cost her voting power.
He had proposed bringing in external consultants, citing transparency. The consultants had been his people, their reports criticized Vale Holdings' legacy management while praising Adrian's forward-thinking approach.
Her father had grown quiet during those months. She remembered watching him read report after report, his shoulders slumping further each time.
"It feels like I no longer recognize my own company," he had said once.
She had sat beside him and held his hand."Adrian is helping us adapt," she had said. The lie tasted bitter now.
The third memory hurt the most. It was the night her father resigned as chairman.
He had called her into his study late, his eyes were red with exhaustion.
"They want me to step aside," he had said. "They say it will calm investors."
She had felt a sign of panic."What did Adrian say?" she had asked.
Her father had looked at her strangely."He said it might be best for everyone," he replied.
She had gone to Adrian furious, demanding an explanation.
He had listened patiently. "Your father built something incredible," he had said. "But the market has changed. This is about protecting his legacy."
"And mine?" she had asked.
He had smiled faintly."You will always be my priority."
She had not realized then that priority did not mean partnership. It meant possession.
After her father stepped down, Adrian moved quickly. He proposed merging key divisions under a new holding structure. He positioned it as growth. The board approved it unanimously. She had voted yes.
Within a year, Vale Holdings no longer existed as an independent entity. The name remained, but the power did not.
She remembered the day she realized she had been sidelined completely.
She had walked into a strategy meeting unannounced and watched executives fall silent. Adrian had turned toward her, surprise flashing briefly before smoothing into calm.
"This meeting is restricted," he had said gently.
"I am the co-founder's daughter," she had replied.
"You are my wife," he had corrected quietly. "That is different."
She had laughed then, uncertain, and unsettled. She had not laughed again, and the final memory came out of nowhere.
The hospital room. The diagnosis that made no sense.
The medication schedule Adrian insisted on managing himself.
The way the doctors deferred to him was because his donations funded the wing.
She remembered asking him once, weak and frightened, whether she was going to die.
He had held her hand."Not if I can help it," he had said. She understood now what he had meant.
Seraphina sat up suddenly, her breath coming fast. Her hands trembled, but her thoughts were sharp.
Every step had been planned and every loss had been engineered.
He had not stolen Vale Holdings in a single move. He had dismantled it piece by piece while she helped him carry the tools.
Her phone lit up. Lucien: I pulled the records you hinted at.
Her heart skipped.
Lucien: Adrian used shell acquisitions tied to your family trust. Your signature appears on two of them.
Her stomach dropped.
Lucien: They are dated six months after your wedding. Seraphina closed her eyes briefly. Those had been the nights she signed documents without reading them fully because she trusted him.
"What else?" she typed. The response came almost immediately.
Lucien: He plans to finalize a hostile absorption tomorrow under the cover of your wedding announcement. Her fingers went cold.
Lucien: Once it is announced publicly, reversing it will be nearly impossible.
Seraphina stood and walked to the window. The estate grounds glowed softly under carefully placed lights, workers moved quietly, adjusting final details, and everything looked peaceful.
It was a lie. "If I refuse to marry him," she typed slowly, "does it stop the takeover?" There was no answer.
Lucien: It delays it but the delay was not enough.
Her gaze sharpened."Can we stop it completely?" she asked. Several seconds passed.
Lucien: Yes.
Her breath caught."How?" she typed. The reply came, slow and heavy.
Lucien: If you are willing to burn the altar down before you ever reach it.
Seraphina pressed her phone to her chest. The memories settled inside her not as pain, but as fuel. She had seen how he destroyed her future once, and she would not allow him to do it again.
Her phone vibrated one final time.
Lucien: Adrian just filed an emergency motion with the board. Her heart slammed against her ribs.
Lucien: He is accelerating the timeline. Seraphina stared into the darkness beyond the window. Tomorrow was supposed to make her his wife. Instead, it would decide who walked away with everything, and for the first time, she intended to be the one holding the knife.