The Don’s Little Bride

Ava’s Pov. I woke up with butterflies in my stomach. Today felt special. I didn’t know why, but I was sure it had something to do with Fynn. Last night, he’d been so secretive, dropping hints about a surprise and asking me to meet him at his apartment today. As I brushed my hair and got ready, I couldn’t stop smiling. My heart felt light, and my mind was racing with possibilities. Was this it? Was he finally going to propose? After two years of dating, I felt ready to take that step with him. I chose the red dress he loved. Fynn always said I looked stunning in red, and I wanted to look perfect for whatever he had planned. My reflection in the mirror showed a woman full of hope, happiness, and excitement. I couldn’t wait to see him. The elevator ride to his apartment felt like an eternity. I kept fidgeting with my dress and checking my phone, even though I knew there were no new messages. As the elevator dinged and the doors opened, I stepped out with a grin, ready to be swept off my feet. But the sight of his open door made me pause. Fynn was meticulous. He always locked his door and double-checked everything. Seeing it open sent a wave of unease through me. Maybe he’d forgotten? That didn’t seem like him, but I shook off the thought and approached the door. “Fynn?” I called, stepping inside. No answer. The apartment was eerily quiet. My eyes immediately landed on the floor, where a dark red trail stained the pristine tiles. Blood. My heart raced, and my breathing became shallow. My mind screamed at me to turn around, to leave, but my legs moved on their own, following the trail. “Fynn?” I whispered, my voice trembling. The blood led to the bathroom. The door was slightly ajar, and the light inside was harsh and unforgiving. With shaking hands, I pushed it open. What I saw will haunt me forever. Fynn was in the bathtub, his lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling. His neck had a deep s***h, blood pooling around him and dripping into the water. I froze, unable to move or think. My knees buckled, and I collapsed onto the floor, a scream ripping from my throat. “No! No, no, no!” I cried, tears streaming down my face. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. Fynn was fine yesterday. He was alive, smiling, holding me close. How could he be gone? My shaking hands fumbled for my phone. It took several tries, but I managed to call the police. My words were barely loud, but they understood enough to send help. The next hour passed in a blur. Police officers filled the apartment, their voices blending into a dull hum. They asked me questions I couldn’t answer. I sat on the floor, staring at the blood on my hands, my tears falling freely. Fynn was gone. The days after the funeral were unbearable. I felt hollow, like a part of me had died with him. Every corner of my room reminded me of him—the framed photo of us on my desk, the necklace he’d given me, even the scent of his cologne lingering on the sweater he’d left behind. I stopped eating. I barely slept. My dad tried talking to me a few times, but he never really listened. He didn’t understand the depth of my pain, and I didn’t expect him to. A week after the funeral, he barged into my room without knocking. “Ava,” he said, his tone sharp and businesslike. “We need to talk.” I sat up, exhausted and confused. “What is it, Dad?” “You’re getting married,” he said flatly. I blinked at him, certain I’d misheard. “What?” “To Dante Whitelaw,” he continued. “The arrangements have been made. The wedding is in three weeks.” My heart sank. “Dad, no. I’m not getting married. I just lost Fynn! How can you even suggest this?” “This isn’t about your feelings,” he snapped. “This is about saving this family. My company is in trouble, Ava. Dante Whitelaw have agreed to invest, but only if you marry Dante.” I shook my head, tears welling up in my eyes. “I can’t. I won’t.” “You don’t have a choice,” he said coldly. “If you don’t do this, everything will fall apart. Do you want that on your conscience?” “I don’t care about the company!” I shouted, my voice cracking. “You can’t force me to do this!” “You will do as I say,” he said, his voice low and threatening. “This isn’t a negotiation, Ava. You’ll thank me one day.” He left the room without another word, leaving me sobbing into my pillow. That night, I couldn’t stay in the house. I felt like the walls were closing in, suffocating me. Fynn was gone, and now I was being forced into a marriage I didn’t want. I grabbed my coat and slipped out, heading to a bar downtown. My friend Amelia worked there, and I hoped seeing her would help. The bar was packed when I arrived. The music was loud, the air heavy with the scent of alcohol and sweat. Amelia spotted me from behind the counter and waved me over. “Ava, are you okay?” she asked, her brows furrowed with concern. “No,” I admitted, my voice shaky. “I need a drink.” She hesitated but poured me something strong. I drank it quickly, the burn in my throat a welcome distraction from the ache in my chest. One drink turned into two, then three. The world around me started to blur, the music vibrating through my body. I didn’t care. I just wanted to forget. That’s when I heard him. “How bad do you want it?” His voice was smooth, deep, and seductive. I turned, my vision hazy, to see a man standing next to me. He was tall, with sharp features and dark, intense eyes that seemed to see right through me. “What?” I asked, my voice slurring. He leaned closer, his lips brushing against my ear. “How bad do you want to forget?” I swallowed hard, my heart racing. His presence was overwhelming, magnetic. “Like a girl who this is her first time,” I whispered, barely abl e to form the words. He smirked, a dangerous edge to his expression. “Then let’s make it unforgettable.”