Captivating The Impostor Bride

ROSELLA POV: What should I do now? Where do I go from here? A few hours ago I stood on shaky legs, my heart pounding in my chest like it was being torn from his chest. I was about to have my first kiss with the man who called himself my husband. My thoughts were a chaos of fear and determination: As I forced myself to endure a rushed, soulless wedding ceremony. Every second felt like a cruel joke. I felt like a puppet in some dark and twisted game. I know what I must do to survive. My plans were fragile, hopeless and very deserate. But it was the only option. Keep the whole drama happening. Pretence. Compliance and smile. I had to buy myself just enough time to figure out how to escape this nightmare without ending up dead. But the danger of exposure stalked me every step of the way. The shadows seemed to get darker and darker. In each moment that passes At any moment, he, my so-called “father,” could step forward and tear away the thin veil of lies that I carefully woven.He could expose me, destroy me, make me a scapegoat in front of everyone. And in the way he did . Not in the way I expected Now I'm here Stuck in the very room where this nightmare started. The air felt heavier than before. I could hardly breathe. Pressing down on me with the weight of my shattered dreams. Everything about this place had an aura of betrayal. My once flawless wedding dress was now stained with blood—mine and theirs—an eerie reminder of a day that turned into chaos, the cool metal strips burning around my fingers. burns my skin A cruel smile disguised as a symbol of love and union. I'm sitting on the edge of the bed. Fingers gripping the torn fabric from my ruined dress, my shoulders shake uncontrollably. My chest so tight I can barely breathe. A low sob breaks free before I can stop it, and tears blur my vision, hot and unstoppable. How did everything go so horribly wrong? The marriage itself is bad enough—it's full of lies. Pretending those strangers were my parents, and acting like i was someone i wasn’t, weaving deception after deception just to survive—it had all drained me. Now the threads of my lies are so tangled that even I can hardly untie them, but this… this was beyond what I could have imagined. Alvarez made sure of that. That sadistic greasy bastard—he was looking straight through me. I knew the moment I laid eyes on him that he was dangerous. But I didn’t know just how much. With just a few disgusting words, he had destroyed the fragile balance I had fought so hard to keep. He told Ashton everything, every secret, every lie. He didn't just ruin me—he destroyed the fragile trust that might have been built between me and the man I now call my husband. And Ashton… I want to hate him. I so want to hate him for locking me up in this cage again. And taking away what little freedom I thought I had left. I want to resent him for turning my world upside down and forcing emotions on me that I never asked for and don’t know how to handle. But the truth is, I can't. Because I love him I don't even know when it happened, but it hit me with the power of a storm amidst all the chaos before. The gunfire, the shouts, the blood, I was terrified. But it wasn’t for me. It was for him. The thought of losing Ashton had paralyzed me with a fear so intense, so all-consuming that I couldn’t think straight. And now, no matter how much I want to deny it, I know I can't, I love him and it breaks me. But what use is love? When you don't know if he feel the same? Even though I don't know if he has the ability to or not? He is the one who holds all the power now. My life is in his hands. I'm sitting here waiting, waiting to find out if the man I love will be the one to end me. The sharp click of the lock cut through the silence, pulling me out of my thoughts. My head jerked up, heart pounding so loud I could hear it in my ears. I stared at the door, my stomach twisting into a knot. Was this it? Was this the moment I’d been dreading? I was sure he would come sooner—Ashton, he would storm in with full rage written all over his face, ready to make me pay for everything. My breath caught in my throat, and I held it, every muscle in my body coiled tightly. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to scream, cry, or beg him. But it wasn’t Ashton. The door opened, and instead of him, a single guard stepped in. He barely looked at me, his expression set in a mix of irritation and boredom. Without a word, he bent down and dropped a tray of very little portion of food on the floor like I was some stray dog. The metal clanged against the tiles, echoing in the room. I barely had a second to process his actions before he was gone again, the door slamming shut behind him. The lock clicked once more, locking me in. Not exactly what i was expecting. I felt a rush of frustration and helplessness surge through me. “Please, talk to me!” I shouted, my voice cracking as I rushed to the door. My hands pressed against the cold surface, as though I could somehow reach the other side. “Somebody, say something! Let me explain!” Nothing came through. Only silence. For a moment, I wanted to pound on the door until my fists were raw, scream out loud until someone was forced to atleast acknowledge me. But I stopped myself. Causing a scene wouldn’t do anything except make my situation and punishment worse. Slowly, I stepped back, letting my hands fall to my sides, and turned my attention to the tray. Kneeling down, I picked it up, my stomach churning as I took in what was on it. My so-called "wedding dinner." The chicken was covered in some sticky wine sauce that looked more like glue. The potatoes cold and lumpy. I carried the tray back to the bed and sat down, forcing myself to eat whatever it was. I wasn’t hungry, not even a little, but I knew I had to. I didn’t know when—or if—they’d bring me food again. Each bite tasted like sawdust, blank and dry, but I swallowed it down anyway. I stared at the window while I ate, the tiny slice of sky mocking me with its freedom. Remembering just how many times had I imagined this day as a little girl? My wedding day. I had pictured soft lace, warm candlelight, and the sound of people laughing and celebrating. I had imagined love, joy, hope. But instead, I was here. Locked in a room, alone, dressed in a bloodstained gown I hadn’t even chosen myself. Dirt streaked the hem, and I could still smell the faint coppery tang of blood. I wasn’t a bride. I was a prisoner. And then there was Ashton. My thoughts drifted back to him regardless of how hard I tried to push them away. What was he doing right now? Was he pacing somewhere, deciding whether or not I was really worth keeping alive? Or had he already made up his mind? I couldn’t stop thinking about the moments when he had surprised me. The way he had looked at me—not with his usual anger, but with something else. I remembered how he had shielded me during the chaos earlier, how his hands had been so careful when he checked me for injuries. He didn’t have to protect me. He could have walked away. But he didn’t. Why? Could I still somehow turn this mess around? The thought wouldn’t leave my head as I sat there, trapped in the silence of the room. My thoughts circling back to the same point in the past, over and over. One thing was clear to me now: Josef Alvarez had lied. He denied being part of the shooting, but it was obvious he was behind it all. Who else could it have been? The more I thought about it, the heavier the weight of my own choices felt on my chest. Guilt settled in like a lead blanket. If only I’d been honest from the beginning. What if I had just informed Ashton about the truth—everything, no holding back? Maybe matters might’ve turned out in another way. Instead, I had lied, told half-truths, and dodged questions, all simply to survive. And Alvarez… his reasons were so clean now, it made my stomach turn. Drugs. That’s all he cared about. The capturing at the plane hangar made so much sense now. He must have thought those drugs were being brought to the meeting, and instead of talking or negotiating, he went straight for blood. He’d killed anyone in his way just to get what he wanted. But the worst part? Ashton had thought Alvarez was after me. The bitter irony stung. Looking back, the truth was so obvious, but in the moment, I’d been too busy running, lying, and trying not to die to see it. I hadn’t meant for anyone to get hurt—certainly not Ashton’s grandfather, even if the old man had been cold and cruel to me. Now Ashton could piece it all together, and when he did, I’d be the only to stand his wrath. I knew it. The idea made my stomach twist. Maybe if I told him everything—every detail, every mystery—I should get ahead of him. I could make him apprehend that Alvarez didn’t care about me. He was after the drug. If Ashton still had them—and I was quite positive he did—there is probably a way to use them. Those weren’t simply everyday pills.