Bound By Duty.

It was already the day....the day of the wedding...our wedding. 

I gazed out the car window, the blurred cityscape a reflection of my turbulent thoughts. The wedding, a mere formality, loomed ahead, threatening to seal my fate. Yet, I remained reserved, my resolve hardened like steel, tempered by the determination to protect my family's legacy.

The sunlight danced across my face, casting a golden glow on my features. My eyes, bright with resolve, sparkled like polished sapphires. My raven-black hair cascaded down my back, a waterfall of night.

In the depths of my mind, plans churned, strategies forged. I knew what Reginald Blackwood and his son wanted – control, dominance, the eradication of my family's legacy. But I wouldn't let them have it. The thought sent a shiver down my spine.

My hands clenched into fists, nails digging into my palms. The satin fabric of my wedding dress rustled softly, a reminder of the role I was about to play. My fingers, adorned with delicate rings, seemed fragile, yet they hid a steely resolve.

As the car navigated the winding roads, my thoughts drifted to my parents. Their memory, etched in my mind like a beacon, guided me forward. I recalled the laughter, the tears, and the countless nights spent discussing Thompson Enterprise's future.

The church came into view, its towering spire reaching toward the sky like a skeletal finger. The stone façade seemed imposing, a fortress guarding secrets. My heart sank, but determination propelled me forward.

Inside, the church's interior unfolded like a masterpiece of sacred art. The vaulted ceiling, adorned with intricate frescoes, seemed to stretch up to the heavens. The stained glass windows, a kaleidoscope of colors, filtered the sunlight, casting a rainbow of hues across the pews.

The air was thick with the scent of old wood, incense, and the sweet fragrance of flowers. The soft glow of candles cast a warm ambiance, illuminating the faces of the gathered congregation.

The pews, crafted from rich mahogany, shone with a warm patina. The delicate carvings on the ends seemed to dance in the flickering light. The congregation, a sea of expectant faces, filled the pews, their whispers and murmurs weaving a gentle hum.

Before the altar, the pastor stood, his benevolent smile a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within me. His eyes, warm with compassion, seemed to hold a deep understanding. Ethan Blackwood stood beside him, his eyes fixed on the entrance, awaiting my arrival.

The altar, adorned with delicate lace and fresh flowers, seemed a bastion of serenity. The crucifix above, a symbol of sacrifice and redemption, watched over the proceedings. The soft music drifting from the choir loft seemed to weave a spell of calm.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the battle ahead. My chauffeur, James, opened the door, and I stepped out into the crisp air. The sunlight enveloped me, casting a halo around my figure.

The sounds of murmured conversations, the rustle of fabrics, and the soft music drifted toward me, a cacophony of expectation. I smoothed my dress, the satin fabric gliding beneath my fingers like silk.

My eyes locked onto the church entrance, the threshold to my destiny. The heavy wooden doors swung open, and I stepped into the foyer, my gaze sweeping the assembly.

Reginald Blackwood's eyes met mine, a glint of triumph sparkling within them. But I saw beyond the facade. I saw the calculating mind, the ruthless ambition. His smile seemed to hide a thousand secrets.

My resolve hardened. Today, I would not be a pawn in their game. Today, I would take control. The thought coursed through my veins like liquid fire.

With a steady hand, I grasped my bouquet, the delicate flowers a symbol of the fragile balance between power and submission. The petals, soft as a lover's caress, seemed to whisper words of encouragement.

I took my first step forward, the click of my heels echoing through the silence. The room held its breath, awaiting my surrender.

But I had other plans.

This was supposed to be the happiest day of my life – the day my father would hold my hand and walk me down the aisle, beaming with pride. But fate had other plans. My reality was a cruel twist, a painful reminder of what I'd lost.

Reginald Blackwood's firm grip on my hand dragged me back to the harsh truth. His touch felt like ice, chilling my very soul. His fingers, long and bony, wrapped around mine like a vice.

I forced a bright smile onto my face, a mask to conceal the anguish within. My lips curled upward, painted with a delicate shade of pink. My eyes, bright with unshed tears, sparkled like polished sapphires.

As we began our walk down the aisle, the soft music drifted through the church, a melancholic melody. The strings of the violin wept, echoing my own sorrow. The murmured conversations of the congregation faded into the background, a gentle hum.

The church's grandeur, once awe-inspiring, now felt suffocating. The vaulted ceiling seemed to press down upon me, its intricate frescoes a blur. The stained glass windows, once a kaleidoscope of colors, now filtered the sunlight, casting a somber hue.

I scanned the sea of faces, searching for a glimpse of comfort. But every smile, every congratulatory glance, felt like a betrayal. They didn't know the truth – the desperation, the coercion, the shattered dreams.

Ethan's eyes met mine as I reached the pulpit. His expression seemed tortured, a reflection of my own turmoil. For a fleeting moment, I wondered if he, too, felt trapped. His eyes, a deep shade of blue, seemed to hold a hidden sorrow.

The pastor's voice, warm and reassuring, guided us through our vows. I repeated the words, my voice barely above a whisper. Ethan's voice, firm and resolute, seemed to echo through the silence.

"As I stand before you, I promise to love and cherish you..." His words hung in the air, a promise I knew he couldn't keep.

As we exchanged rings, a symbol of our binding contract, my thoughts drifted to my father. I remembered his warm smile, his gentle guidance. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, threatening to betray my composure.

The gold band on my finger seemed to weigh me down, a physical reminder of my commitment. Ethan's ring, a simple platinum band, gleamed on his finger, a symbol of his own surrender.

The pastor's final words hung in the air: "You may now kiss the bride." Ethan's lips brushed against mine, a gentle, hesitant touch. But it was too much.

A stream of tears flowed down my cheeks, unstoppable and unrelenting. The dam had broken, and my emotions poured out, raw and unbridled. My shoulders shook, my body trembling beneath the satin fabric.

A round of applause erupted, a cacophony of congratulations. The faces around me blurred, their smiles and cheers fading into the background.

The lights seemed to fade, dimming the harsh reality of my situation. The chapter of my life, once filled with hope and promise, closed with a resounding thud.

As I turned to face the assembly, Ethan's hand enveloped mine. His grip felt like a shackle, binding me to a future I didn't want.

I forced a smile, a fragile facade. The world around me seemed to spin, a vortex of uncertainty.

The recessional music swelled, and we began our walk back down the aisle. I felt like a pawn, moved by forces beyond my control.

The bright sunlight outside seemed cruel, a harsh reminder of the darkness within. I knew I had to find a way to reclaim my life, to shatter the chains that bound me.

For now, I wore the mask of a happy bride, hiding the turmoil that churned beneath. But the fire within me burned bright, a beacon guiding me toward freedom.

Ethan's POV 

I stood at the pulpit, my eyes fixed on the vision of beauty walking toward me. Alessia's smile seemed to brighten the church, illuminating the intricate frescoes on the vaulted ceiling. But I saw beyond the facade. I saw the pain, the resignation, the desperation etched on her face.

Her raven-black hair cascaded down her back, a waterfall of night. Her eyes, bright with unshed tears, sparkled like polished sapphires. Her satin dress shimmered, its delicate lace and embroidery a testament to her elegance.

My heart ached, weighed down by the burden of my own secrets. Sophia's face flashed in my mind, her bright smile and sparkling eyes. I longed to be with her, to hold her hand, to whisper sweet nothings in her ear.

But fate had other plans. My father's ambition had bound me to this loveless union, forcing me to sacrifice my own happiness. The weight of my regret settled heavy on my shoulders.

Alessia's hand slipped into mine, her touch cold, hesitant. Her fingers, delicate and slender, felt fragile in my grasp. I gave it a gentle squeeze, trying to offer what little comfort I could.

Her eyes met mine, and for a fleeting moment, I saw a glimmer of understanding. A spark of mutual recognition flashed between us – two souls trapped in a gilded cage.

The pastor's voice droned on, guiding us through our vows. I repeated the words, my voice empty, hollow. Alessia's voice trembled, her words barely audible.

As we exchanged rings, I felt a pang of guilt. This symbol of commitment was a lie, a promise I couldn't keep. Sophia's face haunted me, her laughter echoing in my mind.

The gold band on Alessia's finger seemed to weigh her down, a physical reminder of our commitment. My ring, a simple platinum band, gleamed on my finger, a symbol of my own surrender.

The pastor's final words hung in the air: "You may now kiss the bride." I leaned in, my lips brushing against Alessia's. The touch was fleeting, awkward.

A stream of tears flowed down her cheeks, unstoppable and unrelenting. The droplets glistened on her skin, like diamonds in the sunlight. I felt a surge of empathy, knowing she, too, was trapped.

A round of applause erupted, a cacophony of congratulations. The faces around us blurred, their smiles and cheers fading into the background.

I forced a smile, a mask to conceal my own anguish. My eyes locked onto Alessia's, and for a moment, we shared a glance of mutual understanding.

We were two souls, bound by duty, torn from our true loves. Sophia's memory burned within me, a flame that refused to be extinguished.

As we turned to face the assembly, Alessia's hand remained in mine. Our grip was loose, a fragile connection between two broken hearts.

The recessional music swelled, and we began our walk back down the aisle. I felt like a puppet, dancing to my father's tune.

The bright sunlight outside seemed cruel, a harsh reminder of the darkness within. The church's stone façade loomed behind us, a fortress guarding secrets.

I knew I had to find a way to reclaim my life, to shatter the chains that bound me.

For now, I wore the mask of a happy groom, hiding the turmoil that churned beneath. But the fire within me burned bright, a beacon guiding me toward freedom.

Alessia's eyes met mine, and I saw a spark of determination. Together, we would navigate this loveless union, our hearts beating with a secret longing for the ones we truly loved.