Four – The Bride with No Choice
275 Words
The chapel was breathtaking—white roses lined the aisle, golden chandeliers glittered above, and every seat was filled with faces I didn’t recognize.
It should’ve been the happiest day of my life. Instead, it felt like a prison sentence.
I stood in a borrowed gown, my hands trembling as I clutched the bouquet. Every step toward the altar felt heavier than the last. And waiting there, in his immaculate black suit, was the man who had orchestrated it all.
Alexander Steele.
His expression was unreadable, his jaw sharp, his eyes gleaming like ice beneath the light.
“Smile,” he murmured when I finally reached him, his hand brushing mine as he took me from my trembling father. “You don’t want the photos to show how much you despise me.”
I lifted my chin, forcing steel into my voice. “Don’t flatter yourself. I despise this arrangement, not you.”
His lips curved, the faintest hint of amusement breaking through his cool façade. “You’ll learn to know the difference.”
The vows blurred into a haze. I couldn’t remember the words I spoke, only the sound of his voice, steady and certain, as though nothing—not even fate—could defy him.
When the priest finally said, “You may kiss the bride,” my stomach twisted.
Alexander’s hand cupped my chin, tilting my face toward his. The kiss was brief, calculated—not tender, not passionate. A seal on a contract.
The room erupted in applause.
But all I heard was the pounding of my own heart, whispering the truth I couldn’t escape:
I was now Mrs. Alexander Steele.
- Writer
