THE WEDDING FROM HELL
1215 Words
CHAPTER 4:
The wedding was everything a woman could dream of; it was grand,and flawless. But to Selene, it felt like a prison wrapped in diamonds.
The Lancaster estate had been transformed into a hall like venue. White roses cascaded from golden chandeliers, an orchestra played a soft melody, and the world's elite filled the hall, their eyes gleaming with curiosity and excitement.
As Selene stood in front of the grand mirror, dressed in a custom-made white gown worth more than billions and more than everything she owned, she felt nothing but caged.
Her hands trembled as she adjusted the veil. Her reflection stared back at her,a beautifully dressed pawn in Damien’s crossed game.
Natasha, stand beside her, gripping her arm.
“You don’t have to do this, Selene,” she whispered urgently. “We can run. I’ll help you disappear again.”
Selene swallowed the lump in her throat. “Run?” She had thought about it millions of times and also dreamed of it. But where would she go this time? Damien had power, influence, and resources that could track her down no matter where she hide.
She forced a bitter smile. “I don’t have a choice.”
Natasha’s eyes burned with anger. “I hate him for doing this to you.”
Selene hated him too. But hate wouldn’t save her now.
A knock on the door interrupted them. One of Damien’s assistants entered, his expression impassive.
“It’s time.”
Selene took a deep breath, bracing herself. “One year. Just survive one year. Then she could finally be free.” She muttered.
The grand ballroom was breathtaking,golden arches, crystal chandeliers, and floral arrangements. The guests murmured in admiration as Selene walked down the aisle, her steps slow and deliberate.
Damien stood at the altar, the perfect image of a groom in love. His black tuxedo fit his tall frame flawlessly, and his sharp eyes held an unreadable expression.
As she reached him, Damien extended a hand, his grip firm as his fingers curled around hers. A shiver ran down her spine.
“You look stunning,” he murmured low enough for only her to hear. “Almost makes me believe you actually belong here.”
Selene gritted her teeth, refusing to give him the reaction.
The priest began the vows, his voice solemn and calm.
“Do you, Damien Lancaster, take Selene Carter to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
Damien’s lips curled into a smirk before he smoothly replied, “I do.”
Selene’s fingers fold at his sarcastic tone.
The priest turned to her. “Do you, Selene Carter, take Damien Lancaster to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
Her throat tightened. She wanted to scream no. To run.But Damien’s warning echoed in her mind “if you refuse, I will destroy you.”
With a deep breath, she forced the words out. “I do.”
The moment the priest announced them husband and wife, the crowd erupted in applause.
Damien pulled her close, his breath brushing against her cheek. “Smile for the cameras, darling,” he whispered.
Before she could protest, his lips crashed onto hers.
To the world, it was a passionate kiss between newlyweds. To Selene, it was a claim, a reminder that she now belonged to him.
The celebration continued with luxury and extravagance,a ten-tier cake, endless champagne, and a ballroom filled with New York’s elite.
Cameras flashed as Damien kept his arm possessively around her waist, leaning in as if he couldn’t get enough of his new bride.
“Tell us, Mr. Lancaster,” a reporter asked eagerly, “what made you fall in love with Selene?”
Damien didn’t miss a bit. “How could I not?” He turned to her, his gaze softening convincingly. “She’s everything I’ve ever wanted.”
Selene forced a small smile, playing her part.
The media painted her as the lucky woman who had captured Damien Lancaster’s heart.If only they knew the truth.
The moment they were alone in a private lounge far away from the guests, Selene ripped her hand from Damien’s grasp.
“Was that really necessary?”
Damien chuckled, pouring himself a drink. “Of course. We wouldn’t want people doubting our love, would we?”
Selene’s nails dug into her palms. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
His smirk never faded. “Immensely.”
She glared at him, hatred burning in her chest.
“You should get used to this,” Damien said, stepping closer. His cologne was intoxicating, but Selene refused to be affected.
“This is nothing but a game,” he continued, his voice lower. “A game that I intend to win.”
Selene held his gaze. She wouldn’t let him break her.
Selene stepped into Damien’s penthouse.The place was massive floor-to-ceiling windows with a breathtaking view of New York, glossy marble floors, and a modern design that screamed power and wealth.But no amount of luxury could change the fact that this was her prison.
Damien’s voice cut through the silence. “Welcome home, sweetheart.”
Selene turned to face him. “Don’t call me that.”
He smirked, unbothered. “You should get used to it. We have an audience now.”
She followed his gaze to the far end of the penthouse, where several house staff stood, waiting for orders. Their expressions were neutral, but Selene knew they had already judged her.
To them, she was the gold digger who had trapped the great Damien Lancaster into marriage. Because she can see it written all over their faces.
Her hands fold into fists. She wanted to scream the truth,that she had been forced into this. But what would that change?
Damien stepped closer, lowering his voice. “There are rules, Selene. Break them, and there will be consequences.”
She lifted her head in defense. “Rules?”
He nodded. “You’re not allowed to work. You will not see certain people. And you will play the perfect wife in public.”
Her stomach twisted. “You can’t control my life like this.”
Damien’s smirk widened. “Oh, but I can.”
He gestured toward the contract still sitting on the glossy coffee table. The one she had signed with shaking hands.
“You agreed to this, sweetheart. Every single word.”
Selene’s nails dug into her palms. He was right,she had signed away her freedom. But she had no choice.
The wedding night, she tried to step out of the penthouse. But The elevator refused to move.
Selene frowned and pressed the button again.The realization hit her like a slap.Damien had locked her in.
Fury surged through her as she stormed back into the living room like a thunder bolt, where Damien was calmly sipping whiskey.
“What the hell is this?” she demanded.
He didn’t even look up. “Security.”
“You locked me in?”
Damien finally met her gaze, unbothered. “Did you really think I’d let you wander around unsupervised?”
Selene’s fists clenched. “I am not your prisoner.”
His smirk was slow, deliberate. “You signed up for this, sweetheart.”
He set his glass down and stood, closing the distance between them.
“You belong to me now.”
- Writer
