A WEDDING DISASTER

Alice woke up with a pounding headache. Her head felt heavy, as if it had been struck by a sledgehammer. A sharp tingling ran down her neck, and when she tried to move her hand, her body felt sluggish—like she was trapped in a living nightmare. Her eyelids felt heavy as she forced them open. The soft glow from an elegant chandelier blinded her for a moment, making her squint. This wasn’t her room. The bed beneath her was too plush, the satin sheets clung to her body in an unfamiliar way. Even the scent in the air was different—a deep, masculine blend of sandalwood and bourbon lingering faintly. Where am I? Her heart pounded erratically. Alice lifted a trembling hand, feeling something strange. Her skin. There were faint imprints—finger marks. On her shoulder. Her waist. Even her thigh. As if someone had gripped her tightly. Her breath caught when she looked down. The dress she had worn last night was no longer intact. The fabric was torn in places, its thin straps slipping off her shoulders, revealing more skin than it should. Panic surged through her as she yanked the blanket over her body, a cold dread creeping through her bones. What happened? Her mind raced, trying to piece together how she ended up here, but everything was blank. A thick, impenetrable fog clouded her memory. The last thing she could recall was the party… the pulsing music… a glass of wine in her hand… then—nothing. Something was wrong. That thought solidified the moment she heard the sound of heavy breathing beside her. Alice froze. She wasn’t alone. Moving cautiously, she turned her head. And that’s when her heart nearly stopped. A man lay beside her. His features were cold and sharp, his dark hair slightly tousled against the silk pillow. Even in sleep, his expression remained rigid—like someone who was used to controlling the world with a single command. Damian Blackwell. Alice’s entire body went rigid. Why is he here? No. This couldn’t be happening. She couldn’t have— As if sensing her distress, the man shifted. His eyes flickered open, locking onto hers. That was not the gaze of someone who had just woken up in confusion. That was a gaze filled with suspicion. And anger. “Shit.” His voice was deep and rough, like a growl emerging from the darkness. Alice clutched the blanket tightly, her entire body tensing as he pushed himself up. He looked just as shocked—but not in the same way she was. “What the hell are you doing here?” His voice was laced with danger. Alice swallowed hard. “I… I don’t know.” Damian’s eyes narrowed as he took in her state. His breathing sharpened as his gaze trailed over her exposed shoulder, then to the shredded fabric barely covering her. His expression darkened. Alice felt ice creep into her veins. “We didn’t… we didn’t do anything, did we?” Her voice was barely a whisper, fear lacing every syllable. Damian’s sharp gaze bore into hers. Then, with a low curse, he dragged a hand over his face. “I don’t know.” That was not the answer Alice wanted to hear. Alice’s heartbeat pounded faster. Her hands trembled as she reached around, searching for her phone. She found it on the floor, half-hidden under the bedside table. The screen was still lit, flashing with dozens of missed calls and nonstop notifications. Holding her breath, Alice unlocked it. Evelyn—her sister’s name—filled the call log, along with short, chilling messages. "What the hell you doing?" Alice’s chest tightened. With unsteady fingers, she opened social media. And then—her entire world shattered. A photo dominated her screen. Her. Damian. In the same bed. Their bodies partially exposed, bathed in dim lighting that cast an intimate, suggestive glow. Alice’s eyes widened, her blood turning to ice. No... She scrolled down, reading the flood of comments that had exploded in just a few hours. "Who is this woman? Why is Damian Blackwell with her?" "A new scandal? Or a secret marriage?" "What about Evelyn? Isn’t she engaged to Damian?" Alice clamped a hand over her mouth, stifling a sob. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be real. Beside her, Damian grabbed his own phone. His expression darkened the moment he saw the same thing. His jaw clenched, his eyes sharpening like a blade freshly honed. “Fuck.” Alice felt her whole body tremble. “This… this has to be a mistake.” Damian looked up, his gaze cold and piercing. “A mistake?” he repeated, his voice dangerously low. “You think this photo just appeared by accident?” Alice shook her head frantically. “I don’t know! I don’t even remember how I got here!” Damian exhaled sharply, as if forcing himself to keep his temper in check. He stood up, towering over Alice, his presence suffocating the room with unbearable tension. “Listen,” he said, his voice a low growl. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I don’t have time for this.” Alice flinched. “Game? You think I planned this?” Damian narrowed his eyes, clearly unconvinced. “If not you, then who?” Alice wanted to scream. I don’t know. I really don’t know. It felt like a setup—but who would be cruel enough to do this to her? Before she could respond, Damian’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen, muttered a curse, and picked up. “Yeah?” The voice on the other end spoke fast—too fast for Alice to catch any words. But Damian’s reaction made her stomach drop. “s**t. This is everywhere already?” He let out a low growl. “Shut it down before it spreads further. I’ll handle this.” He ended the call abruptly and turned to Alice, his dark eyes blazing with fury and frustration. “We’re in big trouble.” Alice swallowed hard, her entire body cold. “Trouble?” she echoed, barely above a whisper. Damian stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, trapping her in place with nothing but the force of his gaze. “In less than an hour,” he said, voice deadly calm, “the whole world will think you’re my wife.”