chapter 10

Ana sat still as the maids worked around her, adjusting the delicate lace of her gown, smoothing the silk fabric, and placing the final touches on her appearance. The dress was beautiful—elegant and flawless, just like everything her father expected her to be. But to her, it felt more like a cage.

The weight of the pearl-encrusted veil pressed against her head, as if forcing her into submission. Her heart pounded in her chest, yet her face remained unreadable, a skill she had mastered over the years.

Her little sister, with her mischievous green eyes, peeked through the doorway, grinning. "You actually look like a bride," she teased. "I almost thought you'd run away."

Ana's lips twitched, but she didn't reply. What was the point? There was nowhere to run.

Her mother entered the room, standing silently behind her. In the mirror's reflection, Ana saw the sadness in her mother's eyes—the unspoken words, the regret, the helplessness. A part of her wanted to reach out, to demand why she never spoke up, why she never protected her. But the moment passed.

"It's time," a servant announced.

Ana rose, the heavy fabric of her gown dragging behind her like chains.

The ceremony was a grand spectacle, a carefully orchestrated event where emotions had no place. The grand hall of her family estate was filled with nobles, dignitaries, and people who cared more about alliances than love.

Then he arrived.

Caden Aurelius Voltaire-Falkner.

He walked down the aisle with an air of authority, his tall figure dressed in a pristine black suit that only emphasized his cold, unshaken demeanor. His unreadable expression remained as he stopped before her, offering her his hand—not as a lover, not as a partner, but as a man claiming what was his.

Ana hesitated for a fraction of a second before placing her hand in his. His grip was firm, unyielding. Cold.

The vows were spoken. Words that meant nothing to either of them.

The priest turned to Caden. "You may now kiss the bride."

A tense silence followed.

Ana braced herself, expecting the worst. But Caden merely leaned in, his lips grazing her ear instead of her mouth. His voice was barely above a whisper, yet it sent a shiver down her spine.

"Don't think for a second that this changes anything."

Then, he pulled away. The audience cheered. The ceremony was done.

The night stretched on with a grand banquet, but Ana felt nothing. Guests congratulated her, praised the union, and spoke of the bright future ahead. Future? She wanted to laugh.

From across the hall, Caden stood, speaking with some unfamiliar men. His posture was perfect, his movements controlled. Always unreadable. Always hiding something.

Ana barely touched her food, forcing herself to nod and smile when required.

Her father approached, placing a heavy hand on her shoulder. "From tomorrow, you are a Falkner," he said. "Do not disappoint me."

The words stung, but she had no strength left to react.

That night, Ana lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling. The house she had grown up in suddenly felt foreign, as if she no longer belonged.

Tomorrow, she would leave.

Tomorrow, she would enter Caden's world.

And tomorrow… she would no longer be Anastasia Vale.

She lifted her hand, staring at the wedding ring that now adorned her finger. The silver band gleamed under the candlelight—a small, cold reminder that her fate was no longer her own.

The night stretched endlessly, but she knew sleep wouldn't come.