The Forced Bride

The Forced Wedding

The next three days disappeared in a blur of relentless activity. From sunrise to late evening, people surrounded me without a single moment to breathe. Dress designers measured every inch of my body, pinning expensive lace against my skin and arguing over tiny details as if I were a mannequin. Florists arrived in waves, carrying thousands of white roses, orchids, and lilies until the Martin’s mansion smelled like a luxury garden. Workers hung crystal chandeliers, rolled out imported carpets, and polished every surface until it gleamed.

Everyone was excited. Everyone except me.

The wedding wasn’t about love. It was about business, saving my family’s failing restaurant through this alliance with the Martin’s.

On the morning of the ceremony, I stood before a full-length mirror while two makeup artists applied the final touches. The woman staring back looked beautiful. The white gown hugged my figure perfectly, long lace sleeves covering my arms while tiny crystals sparkled with every movement. The train stretched behind me like something from a fairy tale. Every girl dreamed of wearing a dress like this.

It was too beautiful but I wasn't really feeling it, my mind drifted elsewhere.

A soft knock sounded, and my adoptive mother stepped inside. She smiled the moment she saw me. “Oh, Sophie… you look absolutely beautiful.”

I forced a smile. “Beautiful enough to be given away?”

Her expression faltered. “Sophie…”

“This isn’t a wedding, Mom. It’s a business contract dressed in white, I don't even love him.”

She sighed. “I know this isn’t easy, but everything will work out, you will get to love each other. You just need time.”

Before she could say more, Dad entered, adjusting his expensive suit. “Are you ready?” His eyes swept over me. “Good. Don’t make a scene today.”

I let out a sarcastic laugh quietly. “You really think that’s what I’m worried about? I’m giving up my life.”

“And we’re giving you security,” he replied firmly. “The Martin’s investment will save the restaurant. You should be grateful, do you know how many who would kill to be in your position right now, do you know the amount of influence the family has?”

Elena entered next, wearing a soft pink dress that made her look like the perfect daughter. She barely glanced at me. “You clean up nicely. Just don’t cry too much, it’ll ruin your makeup sis.”

Her words weren’t cruel but they were empty.

The wedding coordinator hurried in. “It’s time.”

Dad offered his arm. “Let’s go.”

The Martin’s estate had been transformed into a scene from a movie. The ceremony unfolded in the enormous garden, where white flowers lined every pathway and golden decorations glittered under the afternoon sun. Hundreds of guests filled rows of elegant chairs, business tycoons, government officials, politicians, celebrities, and international investors. Luxury cars crowded the entrance, and private security stood watch at every corner. This wasn’t just a wedding; it was a spectacle the entire business world had come to witness, I was getting nervous.

The string quartet began to play. Every guest stood. Dad squeezed my hand. “Keep your head up.”

The doors opened. Camera flashes exploded as I took my first step down the aisle. Each one felt heavier than the last. At the end stood Arthur in a perfectly fitted black tuxedo. His face was unreadable, no smile, no warmth.

By the time I reached him, my hands trembled. The priest’s words faded into the background. I barely registered for the ceremony until the priest prompted me. Arthur had already spoken his vows in a calm, detached voice: “I take you as my wife. I will provide for you and protect you as my wife.”

I swallowed hard. “I… take you as my husband.”

Arthur slid the diamond ring onto my finger. His touch was cold. The priest smiled. “You may kiss your bride.”

Arthur’s lips brushed mine for barely two seconds. The guests erupted in applause, confetti filling the air. To them, it was perfect. To me, it felt like the beginning of a prison sentence.

After the wedding ceremony, the celebration moved to a grand reception in the mansion’s ballroom. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, a live orchestra played softly, and waiters circulated with champagne and gourmet dishes. The six-foot wedding cake gleamed with edible gold. Guests lined up to congratulate us, showering us with extravagant gifts: a limited-edition Rolls-Royce, a Ferrari, a beachfront villa, a rare diamond watch, original artwork, jewelry, investment shares, and even a private yacht membership.

I stood beside Arthur for what felt like hours, smiling until my cheeks ached while he thanked each guest politely. Inside, I felt emptier with every passing minute.

Hours later, as the line of guests finally thinned, I whispered, “It looks like we’re finally done.” Arthur didn’t respond. He walked away the moment the last guest left, abandoning me beside the mountain of presents.

I accepted a glass of champagne from a waiter and tried to steady myself. Dad soon appeared, glowing with excitement. “Did you see those gifts? Cars, properties… The Martin’s really know how to celebrate.” He patted my shoulder. “You should be happy too. Give the marriage time, you will love it.”

Mom followed shortly after, fixing a strand of my hair and pulling me into a brief hug. “I give you my blessings and will be praying for you every day.” Elena came last, holding sparkling wine. “Not a bad composture you had back there,” she said with a shrug. “For what it’s worth… you looked beautiful today.”

Music swelled again. Couples danced beneath the chandeliers while businessmen discussed deals and politicians posed for photos.

I slipped away into a quiet hallway leading to the private guest rooms, craving silence. For the first time all day, I was alone.

Or so I thought.

I walked down the dimly lit hallway in my wedding dress, the heavy fabric brushing against the carpet with every step. My heart calmed down because the ceremony was over. This was supposed to be the start of something new. At least that’s what I kept telling myself.

Soft, breathy moans drifted from the honeymoon suite I was supposed to share with Arthur ahead.

I stopped. The sound cut through the quiet like a warning. Then came the slow, rhythmic creak of the bed. My fingers tightened around the small bouquet I still carried. ‘It can’t be what it sounds like.’

But the moans continued. Low. Intimate. Familiar.

I moved closer without meaning to, my bare feet silent on the carpet. Arthur’s deep voice rumbled through the door, husky and rough. “I still don’t understand why they chose your sister over you when you are this sweet.”

Elena’s breathless laugh followed, full of satisfaction. “Please stop talking about her and go faster, Arthur… please.”

Something inside my chest twisted painfully. I stood there for a long moment, hand hovering near the doorknob. Part of me wanted to turn around and pretend I heard nothing. The other part needed to know.

I pushed the door open.

The sight hit me like a punch.