Chapter Three:My punishment
1002 Words
The pen felt heavier than it should have.
I stared down at the crisp white page, the words Marriage Certificate printed neatly across the top. My name already sat typed in bold letters beside the word Bride. The line beside Groom carried a name I barely knew.
Alpha King Ronan Ashgrove.
My husband. My punishment.
I wore a plain white dress, soft enough to sit gently against my skin, thick enough to hide the marks still healing on my back. My hair was pulled into a loose braid, held together by little more than a silver pin that had once belonged to my mother.
No flowers. No guests. No music. Just me, a scarred old desk in the royal registry office, and a single framed photograph resting on the table beside me.
A picture of him.
Dark-haired, sharp-featured, smiling in a way that made him look nothing like a thirty-year-old man forced on me by desperation and debt. His eyes looked happy in that photo. Young. Untouched.
This is your husband now, I told myself. At least on paper.
I sighed. My whole life had become a wreck I hadn't asked for.
I lifted the pen with fingers that wouldn't stop trembling.
"Once you sign," the officiant said gently, "you will be legally bound to the Alpha King."
I didn't flinch. I pressed the pen to the page and signed my name.
The second I set the pen down, a strange calm settled over me, like I'd finally stepped off the edge of a cliff I'd been standing at for years.
No applause. But I caught my family checking their phones, smiling like they hadn't just sold me off to a stranger. A few approached with gifts and cruel little smiles while I stood there clutching my husband's photograph like a shield.
My father was the last to come near.
He didn't hug me. He simply set a firm hand on my shoulder, the way you'd send off a soldier headed for war.
"Make us proud," he said, stern as ever.
I said nothing. I stepped back, turned away from the table, and walked toward the exit without another word.
A black car waited outside, a driver already holding the door open like I was someone important.
I slid inside without a backward glance.
The door shut with a soft thud. I held the picture frame tighter, resting it against my lap like armor against whatever came next.
I leaned my head against the window, watching buildings blur past, my mind somewhere far behind me, buried in everything I'd lost.
My mother's company. The one thing she'd built from nothing. The legacy they'd ripped out of my hands the moment she died.
They believed marrying me off to the Alpha King would tie up every loose end. They believed I'd play the quiet, obedient bride and disappear into the background.
They were wrong.
They'd handed me a new title. The Alpha King's wife.
And I intended to use it.
I didn't even register the car slowing, or the enormous golden gates parting to reveal an estate ringed by stone walls and manicured hedges, until the driver cleared his throat.
"We've arrived, my lady."
I blinked myself back into my body.
The door opened. Sunlight hit me full in the face.
A line of servants stood waiting, dressed in navy uniforms trimmed in silver. They bowed in sequence as I passed.
"Welcome, Lady Ashgrove."
"Welcome, my Queen."
"Welcome to the royal house."
It felt like walking into a dream. A twisted, surreal one.
I searched the courtyard for the man I'd just married.
He wasn't there. Only strangers, and a mansion large enough to swallow an entire town.
So. This was home now.
The grand doors swung open, revealing a marble entryway that practically radiated wealth. Gold-trimmed walls. Crystal chandeliers. Everything gleaming, everything untouchable.
At the center of the hall stood a tall man in a sharply tailored black suit, posture perfect, a faint smile on his face. Something about him felt familiar.
"Lady Ashgrove," he said, inclining his head. "Welcome."
"Thank you," I managed, steadying my voice despite the nerves screaming underneath it.
He extended a gloved hand. "Bastian Reyes. Most people here just call me Bastian. I serve as the Alpha King's right hand."
Bastian.
The name stirred something faint in my memory. My mother had mentioned the Reyes family once, years ago. One of the five noble houses with real power in this country. Wealthy. Feared.
Unlike the other noble sons who'd sneered at me across court events for years, Bastian had never once looked at me like I was something dirty.
"I know this must feel like a lot," he added. "But I promise you'll be given room to adjust. You have your own wing here, and anything you need, staff, guards, simple privacy, just say the word."
I nodded, grateful for the effort.
He gave a small smile, then gestured toward the staircase. "The Alpha King is waiting. I'll take you to him."
My heartbeat slowed. Or maybe it sped up. I couldn't tell the difference anymore.
So he was actually here.
I followed Bastian through hallways lined with old paintings and soaring arched ceilings, past servants who bowed in silence as we passed.
Eventually we reached a set of massive double doors, carved with wolves howling at the moon. Gold handles, of course.
Bastian turned to me. "He's inside," he said simply, offering nothing more.
I swallowed hard, nodded, and tightened my grip on the picture frame in my arms.
He pushed the doors open, revealing a cavernous room beyond.
The moment I stepped inside, the heavy door slammed shut behind me with a sharp, final click.
I froze, turning slowly, heart hammering.
Why would he lock the door?
I turned back toward the room, toward him, and that's when I understood exactly why.
I gasped, nearly dropping the frame from my hands.
The man lying in that bed was nothing like the one in the photograph.
- Writer
