Married To The Cold Alpha

Maurice I took a deep breath, feeling my heart pound like a drum in my chest as I stepped into the elegantly decorated bride's waiting room. Cream-colored walls adorned with intricate floral patterns surrounded me, bathed in the soft glow of crystal chandeliers that dangled from the ceiling. Plush velvet chairs lined the room, and at one end stood a large ornate mirror, reflecting the image of a woman who was both scared and anxious—me. I glanced at my reflection, my hazel eyes meeting those of a stranger dressed in a breathtaking ivory wedding gown. The dress was a masterpiece of lace and silk, the kind of gown any bride would dream of wearing on her special day. Tears welled up in my eyes, threatening to smudge my carefully applied makeup. Because this was not supposed to be my day; it was meant to be my stepsister, Ruby's. My relationship with Ruby has always been complicated. We weren't biologically related, but our parents' marriage had brought us together as stepsisters. Ruby, four years younger, had always been the center of attention. With her striking red hair and vivacious personality, she had a way of captivating everyone around her, especially our father and stepmother. I had grown up feeling like the outsider, the quiet and responsible one who was always in the shadow of my vibrant stepsister. My relationship with Ruby had been tumultuous, marked by envy and resentment. Our stepmother, Evelyn, had never hesitated to compare us, always emphasizing Ruby's beauty and charm while ignoring my quiet strength. But today was different. Today, Ruby had made a devastating mistake. She had chosen to run away on her wedding day with her boyfriend, leaving our parents with a note that shattered our parents' dreams of a lavish wedding, furious and on the brink of humiliation. In a desperate attempt to salvage our reputation, Evelyn and my father, Thomas, had turned to me, the reliable one, the one who could be counted on in times of crisis. The memory of Evelyn's words echoed in my mind. "Maurice, you must replace Ruby. It's your duty to save this wedding, this family's reputation." Her tone had been firm, almost demanding, and I couldn't help but feel a simmering anger at being thrust into this role. I had reluctantly agreed to step into Ruby's shoes, to become the bride in her place. It was a decision made out of duty rather than desire, a way to protect my family's honor and save my father from public humiliation. I could feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on me, the burden of a role that was never meant to be mine. As I stood in the bride's waiting room, trying to steady my racing heart, my father entered. He looked dashing in his suit, a stark contrast to the chaos that had unfolded earlier. His eyes held a mixture of pride and concern as he approached me. He extended his arm, a silent invitation for me to take it. I did so with a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. "Are you ready, Maurice?" he asked softly, his voice filled with a father's affection and understanding. I nodded, unable to find my own words. We walked out of the room together, and the mere act of stepping into the corridor made me acutely aware of the significance of the day. The hush that fell over the corridor as we moved toward the aisle entrance was almost suffocating. The guests had risen from their seats, their eyes fixed on me, their whispers a low murmur in the background. I wasn't supposed to be nervous. This wasn't a day I had ever expected or desired. But as I made my way toward the aisle, I couldn't help the fluttering in my stomach. It was as if a spotlight had been trained on me, and the weight of all those eyes watching me was impossible to ignore. In the distance, I could see Kenneth, the alpha and the groom, standing at the altar in his sharp black suit. He looked firm and composed, the very image of an alpha. As I drew nearer, I could see the coldness in his expression, his eyes seemingly devoid of emotion. A shiver ran down my spine as I approached him. My father gave my hand into Kenneth's, and he accepted it with a brief, formal nod. The ceremony began, and the words of the officiant washed over me in a blur. I tried to focus on the vows, on the promises being exchanged, but my mind kept drifting. "I, Maurice, take you, Kenneth, to be my wedded husband," I repeated the words as I had rehearsed, but they felt hollow and strange on my lips. Kenneth's voice was strong and unwavering as he recited his vows, and the contrast between his certainty and my own uncertainty was stark. My mind drifted, and I couldn't focus on the words being spoken or the significance of the moment. My thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and resentment, and I could hardly believe that I was standing here as a bride when just hours ago, I had been an unwilling replacement. And then, as if out of nowhere, I heard the officiant's voice rise above the murmur of the crowd. "And now, by the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride." I blinked in surprise, my mind struggling to catch up with the sudden turn of events. I hadn't even had time to process the fact that the ceremony was ending when I felt something warm and gentle on my lips. Kenneth had leaned in and kissed me, a gesture so unexpected that it left me momentarily stunned. His lips were firm yet soft, and the touch was brief, almost chaste. It wasn't a deep and passionate kiss, just a peck, but it was enough to send a shockwave of awareness through me. As the applause and cheers of the guests swelled around us, he pulled away. I looked into Kenneth's eyes, still trying to process the surreal turn of events. His gaze remained cool and distant, the mask of an alpha firmly in place. But then, just as the celebratory noise began to fade, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against my ear. "Remember, Maurice," he whispered, his voice low and intimate, "you'll pay for the chaos your stepsister has caused."