Ruthlessly Yours

“The bride is missing!” The sudden report shattered the church’s quiet atmosphere. The missing bride was none other than Isabella’s older half-sister, Ariela, and Isabella felt her stomach sink. Her gaze immediately shifted to her father, Arlan Levine, whose face had already gone pale. “Find her this instant!” Arlan barked. “Search every corner, contact her friends, and check every place she frequents!” His men immediately scattered, their hurried footsteps echoing through the aisles as they began the search. Ariela’s wedding had been kept completely out of the public eye. No reporters were allowed inside, and only close family members and a handful of trusted associates were invited. Mobile phones were strictly prohibited, and every guest had been required to sign a non-disclosure agreement before entering the church. Now, despite all those precautions, uneasy whispers spread through the room. “She ran away?” one guest whispered. “With another man?” “Does she have a death wish?” another murmured. The once-peaceful church quickly descended into uneasy chaos. Guests exchanged worried glances while the rustle of formal gowns mixed with the hurried footsteps of Arlan’s men. “What a waste,” Isabella thought, conflicting emotions stirring inside her. Ariela could have run away before the wedding day. Her gaze returned to her father, and a pang of sympathy tightened her chest. He had carefully arranged every detail of Ariela’s wedding, creating a ceremony that was both elegant and extravagant, only to watch it collapse before it had even begun. She could still remember how happy he had looked only moments ago as he waited for the ceremony to start. The unmistakable pride in his father’s eyes was evident when he declared, “Once Ariela marries into the Sinclairs, our family will be tied to the most powerful family in the country!” The search continued for some time before another man hurried back into the church. “We can’t find Miss Ariela anywhere,” he reported breathlessly. “Someone said she was seen leaving with another man.” Whispers continued among the few guests who remained, spreading through the church as they exchanged worried glances. Isabella glanced at her wristwatch and bit her lower lip. “It’s already time. The groom could arrive at any moment,” she murmured. The groom was the ruthless heir to the Sinclair Group, a man feared by business rivals and respected throughout high society. No one had publicly seen his face because of his extreme obsession with privacy. He was known as a recluse, a cold, untouchable man whom no one dared approach carelessly. The thought of facing him made the tension inside the church feel even heavier. “Do you know where she is?” Alice, her stepmother, whispered anxiously beside Isabella. “Did you notice anything that suggested she was planning to run away?” Like her father, Alice’s face had gone pale, and beads of sweat formed along her forehead. “I have no idea,” Isabella replied politely. “She barely talks to me.” “Except when she feels like bullying me or ordering me around,” she mused. Growing up, Isabella had been constantly belittled by her older sister. Ariela treated her less like family and more like someone who was always expected to obey. From school assignments to personal errands, Isabella was forced to handle whatever Ariela did not want to do. She was more like Ariela’s personal assistant or maid than her younger sister. “You’re truly useless!” Alice sneered. “Why are you even here?” Isabella lowered her gaze and quietly sighed. Over the years, she had learned that the safest way to survive in the Levine household was to appear meek, clumsy, and insignificant. She was the dull girl who was good at nothing except studying. That was exactly how she wanted them to see her. If Ariela ever saw her as a threat, Isabella knew things would only become worse. “I can’t believe Ariela would do this to us!” Alice hissed, panic tightening her voice. “We’re doomed!” “We can’t afford to offend the Sinclair family. We were the ones who pushed for this marriage so they would honor the promise made to your late uncle,” she added. That old story again. Isabella had heard it countless times. It was said that years ago, her uncle Lucian, her father’s older brother, saved Adrian Sinclair’s father. The two men became close friends despite the vast difference in their families’ status and influence. They eventually made a pact that their families would one day be joined through marriage. But Uncle Lucian died before he ever married or had children of his own. “I can’t believe they didn’t see through Father’s scheme,” Isabella thought. Knowing the entire story, her father had brought the matter to the Sinclairs. He insisted that his daughter, Ariela, fulfill the vow in Lucian’s place. None of it made sense to Isabella. But somehow, the Sinclair family agreed. Isabella noticed her father suddenly looking past her. His eyes widened, and the color drained from his face. “Mr. Sinclair?” Arlan gasped, staring at the man behind her. The church fell silent. Even the guests stopped whispering as hurried footsteps approached from the entrance. “Boss, we’ve confirmed it,” one of the men reported. “The bride ran away with another man.” Isabella slowly turned around. A man stood several steps away, dressed in a perfectly tailored black groom’s suit. His tousled jet-black hair gave him a rugged edge, a striking contrast to the polished elegance of his attire. “Is that so?” he asked. His deep voice carried across the silent church. Isabella’s breath caught as she stared at him. Adrian Sinclair? “If Ariela had known her groom was this handsome, she definitely wouldn’t have run away.” Isabella almost shook her head at the thought. Thick dark brows framed his striking grey eyes. Their steady gaze made it difficult to look away. His prominent nose and chiseled jaw gave his features a sharp edge, while his naturally red lips softened them just enough to make him dangerously attractive. Ariela had always been obsessed with handsome men. Yet the rumors about Adrian painted him as ugly and unattractive, which was supposedly why he never allowed a photograph of himself to appear online or in the news. Looking at him now, Isabella understood why one should never believe a rumor. “The bride ran away with another man.” Adrian’s voice remained calm, almost emotionless, as his intimidating gaze swept across the church. “Do they think so little of me?” His quiet words sent a chill through the room. No one dared speak as the guests exchanged nervous glances. Arlan stepped forward, his face tense. “Mr. Sinclair, please calm down. We will find Ariela and bring her back–” “No need,” Adrian said, cutting him off. His gaze shifted toward Isabella. “Why is he looking at me?” Isabella swallowed as those grey eyes settled on her. His stare held her in place and somehow unsettled her more than any angry outburst could have. “Isn’t she also your daughter?” Adrian asked calmly. Arlan stiffened, then nodded. “Y-yes, but Isabella is not a–” He stopped, unable to finish. Everyone turned their attention to Adrian as he slowly raised his hand and pointed toward Isabella. “She will do,” he declared. Isabella’s heart nearly stopped. “No,” she gasped, her lips parting in disbelief. She was only eighteen and still in school. She had dreams, plans, and goals for her future, and marriage had never been part of them. “What?” Alice gasped, staring at Adrian in disbelief. “Mr. Sinclair,” Arlan stammered, taking a hesitant step forward. “Perhaps we should discuss–” “She’s a bastard!” Alice blurted out. “She can’t become part of the Sinclair family. She’s a disgrace to ours!” Adrian didn’t even look at Alice. His gaze remained fixed on Isabella as he asked calmly, “Will you marry me?” Isabella stared at him. “I can help you build a good future,” Adrian continued. “One where no one will ever look down on you again.” Alice immediately grabbed Isabella’s arm and hissed, “You wretch! This is Ariela’s marriage. Don’t you dare agree to this. Know your place!” The words snapped Isabella back to reality. All her life, she had wanted one thing: to escape her family and become successful enough that no one could ever look down on her again. She had rarely been hurt physically, but the constant humiliation and cruelty had worn her down in ways no one seemed to notice. More than anything, Isabella wanted freedom. “What do you say?” Adrian asked, his deep voice drawing her attention back. Isabella looked into his eyes. Fear still churned in her chest, but beneath it, something else stirred. Hope. “I’ll marry you.” The words slipped from Isabella’s lips before she could reconsider. A faint smirk touched Adrian’s lips, though his expression remained unreadable. He turned toward his men. “Prepare the papers,” Adrian ordered. “I’ll marry her instead.”