Married to the man they fear

Chapter 1: The Marriage I Never Wanted I never imagined my wedding day would feel like a funeral. The hall was quiet, too quiet for a celebration. White flowers lined the walls, their beauty doing nothing to calm the storm inside my chest. My hands trembled as I stood at the front, dressed in a gown I did not choose, waiting for a man I barely knew. This marriage was not born of love. It was born of debt. “Stand straight,” my aunt whispered harshly beside me. “You are embarrassing us.” I swallowed and lifted my chin, though my heart felt heavy. If embarrassment could save my family, then maybe this sacrifice was worth it. The doors opened. He walked in slowly, confidently, like a man who owned not only the room but everyone inside it. Tall. Broad shoulders. Sharp jaw. His dark eyes scanned the hall without emotion, until they landed on me. I felt my breath catch. This was Dante Blackwood. People feared him. Whispers followed his name—dangerous businessman, ruthless, untouchable. No one crossed him and survived without scars. And today, he was becoming my husband. He stopped beside me. I could feel his presence like a shadow, cold and overwhelming. The officiant cleared his throat and began the vows, but I barely heard a word. My mind screamed one question over and over. How did my life end up here? Two weeks ago, everything had been different. My father had knelt before me, tears in his eyes. “He’s coming for us,” he said. “If we don’t pay, we lose everything. Our home. Our business. Our lives.” Dante Blackwood had offered a solution. Marriage. No romance. No choice. Just a contract signed with my future. “Do you take this woman as your lawful wife?” the officiant asked. Silence followed. I dared to glance at Dante. His face was unreadable, his eyes dark and distant. “I do,” he said finally, his voice calm but commanding. My turn came. Every part of me wanted to run. But when I thought of my family, their fear, their hope resting on my answer, I forced the words out. “I do.” The ring was cold as he slid it onto my finger. It felt more like a chain than a promise. “You may kiss the bride.” He leaned closer, his breath brushing my ear. “Don’t misunderstand,” he whispered. “This marriage is only an agreement. Don’t expect love.” Before I could respond, his lips touched mine—brief, emotionless, final. The hall erupted into polite applause, but inside, I felt empty. As we walked out together, cameras flashing, I realized something terrifying. I had just married the man everyone feared. And I was going home with him.