MARRIED BY MISTAKE, DESIRED BY CHOICE

Lyra Valen had never worn anything this expensive before. The fabric alone felt like it belonged to another life—soft, delicate, stitched with care she wasn’t used to receiving. It didn’t belong to her. Nothing about today did. “Lyra… we’re running out of time.” Her mother’s voice trembled behind her. That was what finally made her look up. In the mirror, a bride stared back. White silk. Bare shoulders. A veil resting gently in place. For a second—just one—Lyra almost believed it. Then reality settled in her chest again, heavy and unkind. “I can’t do this,” she whispered. The words came out small. Not dramatic. Not rebellious. Just honest. Her father exhaled sharply from the corner of the room, already losing patience. “You don’t have a choice.” That hurt more than it should have. Not because it was harsh. But because it was true. Her sister was gone. Not late. Not delayed. Gone. Lyra had been the one to find the empty room. The untouched bouquet. The silence that felt… intentional. No struggle. No confusion. Just absence. And now— Everything rested on her. “If this wedding doesn’t happen,” her mother said, stepping closer, “we lose everything.” Lyra closed her eyes briefly. Everything. The house. The company. Their name. All of it tied to a man she barely knew. Lucien Kade. Even thinking his name made her stomach tighten. She had seen him once. From afar. He hadn’t looked like someone people said no to. “I’ll be standing next to him,” she said slowly, almost to herself. “Yes,” her mother replied quickly. “Just walk down the aisle. The veil will cover your face. No one will notice until it’s too late.” Too late. Lyra let out a soft breath. She wasn’t brave. She wasn’t strong. And she certainly wasn’t ready. But she also wasn’t the kind of person who walked away when things got hard. Unlike her sister. “…Okay,” she said. --- The cathedral doors opened before she could change her mind. Light spilled in. So did eyes. Too many. Too sharp. Lyra’s grip tightened around her bouquet as she took her first step. Then another. The music sounded distant now. Muted. Like it belonged to someone else’s life. At the altar stood Lucien Kade. Still. Composed. Untouchable. He didn’t look like a groom. He looked like a decision already made. His gaze lifted the moment she appeared. And just like that— Something shifted. It wasn’t obvious. Most people wouldn’t notice. But Lyra did. Because she was looking directly at him. He knew. Her breath faltered. He knew. Every step after that felt heavier. Closer. More exposed. By the time she reached him, her heart was beating too fast, too loud. He leaned in slightly. Just enough. “You’re not her.” His voice was low. Certain. Not angry. Worse. Calm. Lyra’s fingers tightened around the bouquet. “No,” she said quietly. For a moment, she thought— This is where it ends. This is where he stops everything. Exposes her. Walks away. But he didn’t. Lucien straightened. Turned forward. And said nothing. The ceremony continued. Like nothing had happened. Like she hadn’t just stepped into a life that wasn’t hers. The vows felt unreal on her tongue. The ring was cold against her skin. The applause came too soon. Too loud. Too final. And just like that— She was married. --- The room was quieter upstairs. Too quiet. The kind that made everything feel more real. Lyra hadn’t moved much since they entered. The dress suddenly felt heavier. Harder to breathe in. Behind her, the door clicked shut. Lucien. She didn’t turn immediately. Didn’t trust her voice yet. There was a pause. Then— “Look at me.” She did. Slowly. His expression hadn’t changed. Still calm. Still controlled. But now— There was no audience. “No one forced you into this,” he said. It wasn’t a question. Lyra shook her head. “No.” “Good.” He took a step closer. Not rushed. Not aggressive. Just… certain. “Then understand something clearly.” Her breath caught slightly. “You don’t get to walk away from this later.” The words landed heavier than she expected. “I wasn’t planning to,” she said softly. Something flickered in his eyes. Brief. Unreadable. Gone too quickly to name. He studied her for a moment longer. As if trying to figure something out. Then— “You’ll stay out of my way,” he said. “You’ll follow my rules.” “And you won’t create problems for me.” Each sentence calm. Measured. Controlled. Lyra nodded. “I understand.” A pause. Then, quieter— “I didn’t mean to cause trouble.” That was the truth. Simple. Unpolished. And for some reason— It unsettled him. Lucien’s gaze dropped briefly to her hands. Still slightly trembling. He noticed. He didn’t like that he noticed. Before she could react— Her heel caught the edge of the dress. Her balance slipped. A soft gasp left her— And then— His hand was on her. Firm. Steady. Holding her in place before she could fall. For a second— Neither of them moved. She could feel the warmth of his hand through the fabric. The steadiness. The control. Her fingers instinctively curled against his sleeve. And something— shifted. His jaw tightened. He let go immediately. Like the contact had gone on too long. “Be careful,” he said. But his voice had lowered. Changed. Lyra stepped back quickly. “I’m sorry.” He didn’t respond right away. Just looked at her. Then— “No one in this house will disrespect you.” The words came suddenly. Like they hadn’t been planned. Like he hadn’t meant to say them out loud. Lyra blinked. Surprised. He turned away before she could respond. Distance. Control. Restored. But the words stayed with her. Because they didn’t sound like a warning. They sounded like a promise.