I do

The ceremony blurred into flickering candlelight and solemn vows, the suffocating scent of roses thick in the air.

I barely heard the words being spoken.

My father stood beside me, his grip on my arm firm, a silent warning. Around us, nobles whispered, their voices woven with curiosity, fear, and barely concealed satisfaction.

Everyone had come to witness my fate.

I wasn't the daughter anyone had expected to marry into the Volkov family. That was supposed to be Lilian or Irene. Yet here I stood, bound by a contract I had no say in, my pulse unsteady beneath my skin.

I should have been afraid.

I had expected fear, dread, maybe even resignation.

But not this.

Not the way my breath caught in my throat. Not the way my stomach twisted—not in revulsion, but something disturbingly close to anticipation.

What was wrong with me?

My gaze flickered upward.

Drey Volkov.

He stood beside me, his presence a quiet storm, still as stone yet impossibly commanding. His suit—black as the abyss itself—fit his tall frame with effortless precision. He was nothing like the monstrous rumors whispered about him.

No scars. No grotesque deformities.

If anything, he was too perfect.

Sharp cheekbones, a chiseled jaw, lips pressed into an unreadable line. But it was his eyes that held me captive—dark, assessing, completely devoid of warmth.

I should have been terrified.

Instead, my heart pounded so violently I had to remind myself to breathe.

He didn't fidget. He didn't shift. He stood like someone who had nothing to prove.

And yet—he was proving something.

To me.

To my father.

To everyone in the room.

He was power. He was control.

And now, he was mine.

"I do."

The words left my lips before I could process them, sealing my fate.

A ripple of applause followed, but it felt distant. Like I was floating outside my own body, watching a girl who looked like me make a decision she could never take back.

A cold weight slipped onto my finger.

Drey's touch was fleeting, but it sent a shiver down my spine. My father beamed with pride. My stepmother's eyes glittered with satisfaction.

And then, I turned—just in time to catch my stepsisters' reactions.

Lilian and Irene.

They stood a few feet away, their gazes locked on Drey, their mouths pressed into thin, furious lines.

This wasn't what they expected.

This wasn't what they wanted.

They had spent days sneering at my misfortune—until they saw him.

Now, their envy burned into me, and I knew exactly what they were thinking.

It should have been me.

And they weren't the type to let jealousy die in silence.

Their opportunity came swiftly.

We had moved to the grand hall, where chandeliers dripped golden light over tables adorned with fine crystal. I was still adjusting to the weight of my new reality when Lilian's voice rang out, too loud.

"Oh, Alina," she cooed, feigning sweetness. "It must be overwhelming to be married into such wealth. I do hope you don't embarrass yourself tonight."

Soft chuckles rippled through the crowd.

Irene joined in, a delicate sigh leaving her lips. "You know, she's never been particularly graceful. I remember when she spilled wine all over Father's documents—"

More laughter.

My face burned.

They were trying to humiliate me. In front of my new family. In front of him.

I swallowed hard, willing myself not to react, but before I could speak, another voice sliced through the air.

"Then it's good that grace isn't a requirement for being my wife."

Drey's voice wasn't loud.

It didn't need to be.

The hall fell silent.

It was the way he said it. The way the very air seemed to constrict around him.

Lilian and Irene's smirks vanished. Their bodies stiffened, faces paling.

Drey turned his head slightly, his gaze settling on them with quiet, razor-sharp disapproval.

Not anger. Not irritation.

Something colder.

Something final.

The kind of look that made people remember their place.

Even my father stiffened, his breath hitching. He had spent his life controlling the people around him, bending them to his will.

But standing there, under Drey Volkov's gaze, he looked smaller.

Weaker.

Drey didn't say another word.

He didn't need to.

His gaze flickered back to me, unreadable, but the message was clear.

It didn't matter what they said.

I was his now.

And no one else's opinion mattered.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of whispered conversations and stolen glances. My father basked in his victory, while my stepmother worked to charm the Volkov elders. My stepsisters sulked in the shadows, cowed but not defeated.

But the biggest surprise came at the very end.

I had expected to leave with my husband.

To be escorted to the Volkov estate and begin whatever life awaited me there.

Instead, as the last guests departed, Drey turned to me and spoke words that left me frozen.

"I will come for you when the time is right."

He didn't elaborate.

He simply turned, nodded once to my father, and left.

Left me standing there, still in my wedding dress, bound by vows to a man who had no intention of taking me with him.

A shiver curled down my spine.

For the first time since this nightmare began, I wasn't sure whether I should be relieved…

Or terrified.