MARRIED TO THE BILLIONAIRE I HATED

Chapter 1: The Wedding I Never Wanted The hall was decorated like a dream—white roses lined the aisle, golden chandeliers glittered from above, and the rich scent of vanilla candles floated in the air. Every inch of the space oozed elegance and money. Photographers snapped away, guests whispered behind their champagne flutes, and everything looked like a scene straight out of a fairy tale. But for me? It felt like a funeral. Each flower was a reminder of the life I was about to bury. Mine. Each glittering light only highlighted the darkness creeping into my chest. I gripped the bouquet tighter as I took slow, reluctant steps toward the altar. My heels clicked softly on the marble floor, the echo loud in my ears. Every inch I moved felt like chains dragging me closer to a sentence I hadn’t agreed to serve. Each step forward felt like a betrayal of my soul. My fingers trembled, my knuckles white as I clutched the delicate flowers. My heart wasn’t fluttering with nerves or joy—it was pounding in panic, a heavy drumbeat that drowned out all logic. At the end of the aisle stood Zayden Cole. Tall. Sharp-jawed. Storm-gray eyes that could silence a room. The billionaire who destroyed my father’s legacy with a smirk. And the man I was about to marry. Our eyes met. He didn’t smile. He didn’t flinch. He stood there like a statue carved from arrogance and power. His expression was unreadable, but his presence was suffocating. Every part of him screamed control—like the world bent to his will and I was just another pawn to move across his board. This wasn’t a union built on love. It was a cage built on secrets and sacrifice. How did I end up here? Simple. My father was drowning in debt. Zayden swept in like a savior—but his lifeline came with a noose. “Marry me,” he said. “And I’ll wipe away everything your father owes.” No proposal. No romantic gestures. Just a business deal masked with pearls and pretty lies. I said yes not because I loved him, but because I had no choice. It was either this… or watch my family crumble in front of me. I still remember the night my father sat me down, tears threatening behind his tired eyes. “He’s the only way out,” he said. “You don’t have to love him—just survive.” Survive. That’s what today was about. My dress sparkled under the lights—a custom-made gown that cost more than my father had made in a decade. My makeup was flawless, my hair pinned in a soft bun, every strand secured. I looked like a princess. But inside, I felt like a prisoner being paraded for show. Every smile I received felt like mockery. Every compliment, a jab. The guests weren’t here for love—they were here for spectacle. To watch the rich girl sell her soul to the devil and call it matrimony. My stomach churned as I noticed the smug expressions on some of the guests—wealthy socialites, ruthless businessmen, women in gowns that sparkled with envy. They were all here to witness the ultimate chess move: Zayden acquiring me like a trophy in his already glittering empire. The crowd rose as I reached the altar. “You look stunning,” Zayden murmured, just loud enough for me to hear. I tilted my chin up. “You look like a mistake I wish I hadn’t made.” He smirked, unbothered. “Too late for regrets, sweetheart.” I wanted to slap him. I wanted to scream. But instead, I swallowed the lump in my throat and faced the priest. The ceremony began. The priest spoke in smooth, practiced tones, his words blurring into static in my ears. Vows? Promises? Love and commitment? It all felt so artificial. I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t breathe. I kept my eyes locked on a single gold candle beside the altar, willing myself not to collapse. Zayden said his line like a man signing off on a business merger. “I do.” It sent a chill through me. His voice was cold, sure. I had never heard him hesitate. All eyes turned to me. My throat dried. My knees threatened to buckle. Say no, my heart screamed. Just say no. But I didn’t. Because my mother was watching from the front row, her eyes shimmering with pride and hidden pain. Because walking away now meant destroying my father. Because saying yes, even under duress, was still easier than letting my family fall apart. So I said it. “I… do.” The gasp from the crowd felt like a prison gate slamming shut. Cameras flashed. Reporters leaned forward with greedy eyes. In a matter of seconds, I became Mrs. Zayden Cole. Applause followed—polished and hollow. The kind of applause meant for headlines, not hearts. It wrapped around me like a tight veil, suffocating and false. My fingers clenched around the bouquet, the petals trembling with me. He leaned in to kiss me, and I fought every instinct to flinch away. His lips brushed mine—cool, calculated. There was no tenderness. No warmth. Just ownership and warning. “This marriage will break you,” he whispered against my lips. I forced a smile, my eyes locking on his. “Challenge accepted, husband.” We turned to face the crowd, hand in hand, perfectly posed for the cameras. His grip tightened slightly, just enough to remind me that I belonged to him now. That my freedom had a price tag, and he’d paid it in full. The crowd cheered louder. More flashes. More lies captured in perfect lighting. And as I stood beside Zayden, the man I couldn’t forgive, wearing the dress I never wanted, smiling for a life I never chose… A small voice inside me whispered: This is only the beginning. Bound by duty. Fueled by hate. But hatred has a way of becoming obsession. And obsession... is the most dangerous fire of all. And I had just stepped into the blaze.