Chapter1
The Beginning of Forever
ELENA
The violinist played the chorus of “Wildest Dreams” by Taylor Swift as I walked down the aisle with a smile plastered across my face. My heart pounded, my dress glowing beneath the chandeliers, my thoughts brimming with joy, excitement, and the overwhelming feeling that my dream was finally coming true. I was marrying my crush, the man I had admired for as long as I could remember.
But as I lifted my gaze to him, waiting at the altar, there was something unreadable in his eyes. A flicker that didn’t quite match my overflowing happiness. I shoved the unease aside and let my smile stretch wider.
I remembered the first time I saw him. More correctly, the first time he stole the air from my lungs. It was at a gala I attended with my friend, Julian.
---
A YEAR AGO
Julian had invited me to a gala his father’s company was hosting, and since I had nothing better to do, I agreed.
He handed me a glass of wine, the faint aroma of oak swirling in my nose before I took a sip.
“The next time we come to one of these, it’ll be as married couples,” he said with an easy smile.
I rolled my eyes. “There you go again.” A soft laugh slipped past my lips.
“The doors close soon. Are you sure your father will make it?” Julian asked, tilting his head.
“He will,” I replied, though I wasn’t sure. My father was always late. Still, I had gone out of my way to put in a good word for him with Julian’s father, and even though it had irritated him, I knew deep down he was grateful. His company was sinking fast.
Father never believed women should be in the workplace, but I was stubborn enough to prove him wrong. I’d sneak into his office, sit through meetings he tried to bar me from, and leave behind notes with strategies signed in his name. His employees thought him brilliant for ideas that were mine. He would return home, furious, and yell at me, but I never stopped.
“Father should be here at any moment from…oh! That’s h…”
The words froze on my tongue as a man stepped into the ballroom.
The room had been alive with chatter, with champagne glasses clinking and silk gowns rustling as music floated from the quartet. But the moment he entered, everything dimmed, as though the air itself shifted to make space for him.
He didn’t announce himself. He didn’t need to.
My eyes locked onto him instantly. Tall, broad-shouldered, he moved with a quiet confidence that made the men straighten and the women tilt their chins. His presence wasn’t loud, it was magnetic.
His expression was unreadable. Lips pressed into a line, dark eyes scanning the room with the detached sharpness of someone who had seen everything the world had to offer and found it unimpressive.
The chandeliers caught the angles of his face. A strong jaw. High cheekbones. A straight, proud nose. His black hair was brushed neatly back, though a single strand had slipped loose, grazing his temple. Somehow, that imperfection made him even more untouchable.
He stood still while others drifted toward him, commanding attention without a single word.
And then his eyes met mine.
I swallowed hard, realizing I had been holding the wine in my mouth. I forced it down, my chest tightening as his gaze lingered for a heartbeat, sharp, unyielding, before shifting away. My breath left me in a rush, and it was only when Julian pressed his palm lightly to my forehead that I snapped back to myself.
“Are you okay?” he asked, worry lines creasing his brow.
“Your face is red. Do you need some air?”
I only managed a nod, and he gently led me out of the ballroom.
From that day, I couldn’t erase him from my mind. He became the shadow behind my eyelids, the figure in every dream I wished I never woke from. And then, a month ago, that dream bled into reality.
Father had returned home, saying that his meeting with Julian’s father hadn’t gone as planned, but he had spoken with someone else. When I discovered who, my heart leapt into my throat. I stood hidden at the staircase, eavesdropping as his father and mine spoke in clipped tones about an arrangement, our marriage.
He stood there, cold and detached, while they discussed me as though I were another asset on a ledger. He never smiled, never protested. He simply accepted. When his eyes lifted and caught mine from the stairs, I darted back to my room, my face burning.
It unsettled me that it felt more like a transaction than a romance, but it didn’t matter. A marriage was still a marriage. It was the chance I had dreamed of, waking up by his side, belonging to him, no matter how it began.
---
Now, as I reached him at the altar, his dark eyes held no softness. My breath hitched, and I averted my gaze quickly.
Rumors about him swirled like smoke. They said Damien Wells was cold, arrogant, that he fired employees for the smallest mistakes, that his punishments were cruel enough to scar for life. They said he was his father’s son in every way, and his father was the devil himself.
My hands trembled as we exchanged vows. His voice was steady, measured, but stripped of emotion. He didn’t falter, but he didn’t caress the words either. And then the priest said the words I had waited to hear:
“You may kiss the bride.”
I swallowed. Damien stepped closer, closing the distance. His eyes held mine, unreadable.
“Do you want this?” he asked.
I nodded, slowly.
The next moment, his lips pressed to mine.
My heart soared as the world blurred. Damien Wells was kissing me. This wasn’t a dream, it couldn’t be. And if it was, I vowed never to wake.
When he pulled away, applause rose around us. I smiled wider, avoiding his gaze, clutching the memory of that kiss like a treasure. My first kiss, from the man I wanted most. What more could I ask for?
---
At the reception, a familiar voice broke through the noise.
“Can I have this dance?”
I looked up to see Julian, his boyish smile softened, and warmth spread through me.
“You came,” I said, slipping my hand into his.
“I wouldn’t miss your big day for the world,” he replied. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“We shouldn’t…” I whispered, glancing around.
“No one else is dancing,” I added.
“That’s what makes it beautiful.”
He led me to the center, and the violinist began to play “Never Enough”, my favorite song, one I had forced him to listen to countless times despite his protests.
“You did this, didn’t you?” I asked, gazing up at him. His thoughtfulness made my chest ache.
The song ended, and he let go of me reluctantly. “I wish you happiness in your marriage, Elena.”
This time, his smile cracked, forced.
I wanted to ask what weighed on him, but my gaze shifted to Damien, seated at the counter with a drink. He tipped the glass back, his throat working as he swallowed, jaw tight.
“That’s my cue. I should go,” Julian murmured.
I watched him leave, whispering under my breath, “I hope you find peace, Julian.”
When I returned to Damien, he stood swiftly. “Party’s over. We need to go.”
He offered his arm, and I looped mine through his, feeling eyes on us as we exited.
Outside, he opened the car door for me. My gaze searched the crowd.
“Where’s Father?” I asked.
“In a meeting with mine,” Damien replied flatly. “He sends his love.”
I swallowed the disappointment and slid into the car.
---
Hours later, in our new home, his words replayed in my mind: I’ll stay in a different room tonight.
Part of me was relieved; I wasn’t ready. But another part ached. Why was he the one creating distance? Why had he never smiled once today? Was this marriage his choice at all?
My thoughts shattered when a scream ripped through the silence.
I bolted down the hall, flinging open a door to find Damien on the floor. His body trembled violently as he gasped for air, eyes bloodshot, veins straining in his neck.
“W…wa…ter,” he choked.
Panic surged through me. I sprinted to the kitchen, fumbling until I found a bottle, and rushed back. Kneeling beside him, I tipped the water to his lips. Slowly, he drank, his breaths ragged but evening out.
I rubbed his back, my heart pounding.
The rumors echoed in my mind. Cold. Ruthless. Damaged.
But this wasn’t power. This wasn’t cruelty.
This was pain.
What are you hiding, Damien Wells?
