The Wedding Night

The drive back to the Forbes estate was painfully quiet. Elsa's head rested against the car window, her tear-streaked face illuminated by the passing streetlights. She was lost in a whirlwind of grief, her parents' faces flashing in her mind like a cruel slideshow. The reality of her loss hadn't fully sunk in yet, and her heart felt like it had been ripped from her chest.

Liam sat beside her, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. His jaw was clenched, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. To anyone else, he might have seemed calm, but inside, he was waging a war. Elsa's sobs, quiet but heart-wrenching, chipped away at the steel walls he had built around himself. Part of him wanted to comfort her, to tell her everything would be okay. But another part, the part consumed by hatred, reminded him that she was a Johnson.

And he hated the Johnsons.

When they finally arrived at the mansion, Liam opened the car door for Elsa without a word. She stepped out, her movements slow and mechanical, her eyes dull with sorrow. The grand estate loomed before her, its towering structure almost mocking her pain. She had once dreamed of this moment—stepping into her new life as Liam's wife, filled with excitement and love. But now, that dream felt hollow, a cruel joke played by fate.

Inside, the staff greeted them with smiles that quickly faded when they saw Elsa's face. Liam dismissed them with a wave of his hand and guided Elsa upstairs to their bedroom.

The room was breathtaking—a perfect blend of elegance and warmth. Candles lined the walls, their flickering light casting a soft glow over the space. A four-poster bed stood at the center, draped with pristine white linens. The room had been prepared for a celebration of love, but now it felt like a tomb.

Elsa stood frozen at the door, her eyes darting around the room. She could feel the weight of her wedding dress pressing down on her, suffocating her. Tears welled up again, blurring her vision.

"I need to change," she mumbled, her voice barely audible.

Liam nodded, his expression unreadable. He stepped aside, allowing her to walk past him into the adjoining bathroom. As the door closed behind her, he let out a long, shaky breath.

For a moment, he considered walking away—leaving her to grieve alone. But something held him back. His mind wandered to his mother, to the way she had looked at him before she sacrificed herself.

"Life may be hell from now on, but you must survive, son. Make them pay."

His mother's words echoed in his mind, a bitter reminder of the promise he had made. He had waited years for this moment, for the chance to exact his revenge on the Johnsons. And now, with Elsa as his wife, the pieces were finally in place.

But as he stood there, listening to the muffled sound of her crying through the bathroom door, a pang of guilt crept in. He had spent so long plotting and scheming, hardening his heart against her, that he hadn't anticipated the weight of her grief. She wasn't just a Johnson to him now; she was his wife.

Liam shook his head, trying to dispel the conflicting emotions swirling within him. This was exactly what he couldn't afford—weakness. He needed to stay focused, to remember why he had married her in the first place.

A soft click pulled him from his thoughts. The bathroom door opened, and Elsa stepped out, her wedding dress replaced with a simple white robe. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders, and her face was pale, her eyes swollen from crying.

She didn't look at him as she crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. Her hands clutched the robe tightly, her knuckles white.

"Liam…" she began, her voice trembling. "I don't know how I'm supposed to go on without them."

Her words hung in the air, heavy and raw. Liam's chest tightened, but he forced himself to remain composed.

"You will," he said, his voice low but firm. "Because you have to. Life doesn't stop, Elsa. No matter how much we want it to."

His words weren't comforting, but they were the truth—his truth. He had learned it the hard way, and now it was her turn.

Elsa looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. For a moment, she saw something there—pain, anger, and something else she couldn't quite place. But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by his usual stoic mask.

She nodded slowly, her gaze dropping to her lap. "Thank you," she whispered, though she wasn't sure what she was thanking him for.

Liam turned away, walking to the window. He stared out at the sprawling estate, his mind racing. This was just the beginning. Elsa didn't know it yet, but her pain was only a fraction of what he had planned.

As the night wore on, Elsa finally fell asleep, her body and mind exhausted from the day's events. Liam watched her for a moment, his expression unreadable.

"I hate you," he murmured under his breath, though the words felt hollow.

He turned off the light and left the room, leaving Elsa to her restless dreams.

Deep down, Liam knew he was at war—not just with the Johnsons, but with himself. And as he walked through the dark corridors of his mansion, he couldn't shake the feeling that this battle was far from over.