The Picture Wife

Chapter Three

Elena stood before the grand oak doors of the courthouse, her heart pounding in a strange mix of excitement and unease. This was it. She was about to marry the man who had swept into her life with dazzling wealth, effortless charm, and unwavering devotion. And yet, a whisper of doubt curled at the edges of her mind.

She exhaled, smoothing down the elegant ivory dress Arthur had picked for her. It hugged her figure tastefully, the delicate lace sleeves brushing against her wrists. She felt beautiful, but more than that—she felt unprepared.

Shaking the thought away, she reminded herself that Arthur loved her. He had proposed after just a month, overwhelming her with affection so intense that hesitation had seemed absurd.

Now, he stood at the end of the aisle, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, his deep burgundy tie adding a touch of richness to his appearance. He was breathtakingly handsome, his presence commanding attention. A small smile curved his lips as his sharp eyes locked onto hers.

But why did his gaze feel different today?

There was warmth in it, yes—but something else, too. Something unreadable.

Elena swallowed and stepped forward, her heels clicking against the polished marble floor. The ceremony was small and intimate. No lavish decorations, no flowers, no bridesmaids. Just a few witnesses—his associates, her landlord, and the judge officiating.

When she reached him, Arthur extended his hand. His grip was firm, cool.

"You look stunning," he murmured near her ear before pulling back, his smile widening.

Heat rose to her cheeks. "Thank you. You look perfect."

The judge cleared his throat and began.

"We are gathered here today to witness the union of Arthur Hokings and Elena Reynolds in legal matrimony…"

Elena barely heard the rest. Her heartbeat thrummed in her ears as she stole a glance at Arthur. He looked completely at ease, his expression unreadable once more.

"Arthur, do you take Elena to be your lawfully wedded wife? To love, honor, and cherish her, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?"

Arthur's lips twitched slightly. His hands remained steady around hers. "I do."

His voice was calm. Too calm.

The judge turned to her.

"And do you, Elena, take Arthur to be your lawfully wedded husband? To love, honor, and cherish him, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?"

Her lips parted, but the words didn’t come immediately.

Something about this moment felt off.

She glanced around. No family, no friends. Only Arthur’s people. She had told herself it was because she had no one left—her stepbrother, Philip, had taken everything. But now, standing here, she realized how alone she was.

Arthur was the only constant in this room.

He squeezed her hands gently. "Elena?"

She met his gaze and forced the thoughts away. She was overthinking.

"I do," she said softly.

Arthur’s lips curved into a satisfied smile.

The judge nodded. "Please present the rings."

A suited man stepped forward, handing Arthur a small black velvet box. Arthur flipped it open, revealing a sleek platinum band—simple, yet unmistakably expensive.

Lifting Elena’s left hand, he slid the ring onto her finger.

"With this ring," he said smoothly, "I bind you to me."

The words made her blink. "Don't you mean—"

Arthur pressed a finger to her lips, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his own. "Shh, sweetheart. Just say the words."

Elena hesitated but then sighed, repeating after the judge as she slipped the matching band onto his finger.

"By the power vested in me," the judge declared, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Arthur wasted no time.

His hands framed her face as he pressed his lips against hers—firm, possessive, claiming.

Polite applause echoed around them.

When he pulled back, his gaze burned into hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch.

"You're mine now," he murmured, just loud enough for her to hear.

A strange chill crawled down her spine.

Something about those words felt too final.

She ignored it.

She ignored it when she signed the wedding certificate alongside another document she didn’t read—one Arthur laughed off as "just a formality."

She ignored the unease.

Until the honeymoon night.

Elena adjusted the silk robe around her, heart hammering.

This was her wedding night. She should be nervous, excited—breathless with anticipation. But all she felt was... wrong.

Arthur had barely spoken to her since they arrived at the lavish honeymoon suite. He had stepped out for a few minutes, telling her to "get comfortable."

Now, as the door creaked open, she turned with a small, nervous smile.

Then she froze.

Arthur wasn’t alone.