The Billionaire’s Hidden Bride

The crowd chatter was a dull roar in my ears, but none of it registered. My hands trembled as they clutched the bouquet, an arrangement of roses I didn’t want, under a dress I didn’t choose. The heavy lace clung to my skin, stiff and cold, like the life I was about to step into. At the altar stood Dominic Castellano, the billionaire whose name alone sent ripples through tabloids and boardrooms alike. He looked nothing like a man about to marry me. No warmth. No softness. Just a cold stare that pinned me down like prey. I didn’t belong here. My aunts voice sliced through my panic. “Remember, Talia, smile. Walk like you own this.” But how could I own something I never wanted? The flash of cameras blinded me, capturing every hesitant step down the aisle. The guests watched, waiting for the moment I would say the words that would bind me to this stranger forever. Dominic’s eyes never wavered. They weren’t soft or curious. They were sharp. Calculating. Warning me. I wanted to run. To disappear. But the world was watching. The priest’s voice droned on, but my mind was racing back, back to how I had gotten here in the first place. One week ago, I was just Talia Prescott, an artist with dreams, bills to pay, and no clue I’d soon be walking into a gilded cage. I swallowed hard, the words caught in my throat. “I do,” I whispered, not a promise, but a surrender. As the final words hung in the air, applause erupted around me. The crowd cheered for a marriage neither of us wanted, but inside, I felt the first crack in the fragile mask I wore. This wasn’t the start of a fairy tale. This was the beginning of a dangerous game.