The Wedding Without Love
1222 Words
Isabella lay awake in her bed that night, staring at the cracked ceiling as the fan spun lazily above her. The ink on the contract was barely dry, but its weight pressed down on her chest like chains. She had signed her life away.
Her mother coughed softly in the next room, unaware that her daughter had just agreed to marry a man she barely knew. A man who had treated the most sacred vow in life like a business transaction.
Isabella curled into herself, hugging her knees. She wanted to cry, but no tears came. Her mind was numb, her body hollow. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Alexander’s cold smirk and heard his words: “From this moment on, your life belongs to me.”
When morning came, Mia rushed to her house. One look at Isabella’s face, and her best friend knew something terrible had happened.
“Bella, what did you do?” Mia demanded, gripping her shoulders. “Tell me you didn’t.”
Isabella broke down, tears finally spilling. She told Mia everything about the meeting, the contract, the condition.
Mia gasped. “A one-year marriage? Are you insane? That man is dangerous. He doesn’t know how to love—he only knows power!”
“I didn’t have a choice,” Isabella whispered, her voice shaking. “If I didn’t, we would’ve lost everything. My mom… she would’ve.” Her throat tightened, unable to finish.
Mia’s anger softened into pity. She pulled Isabella into a hug. “Oh, Bella…”
Two days later, Isabella’s world was turned upside down when headlines exploded across the internet.
“Billionaire Alexander King to Wed Unknown Woman.”
“Mystery Bride Shocks Society Who is Isabella Cruz?”
“From Coffee Girl to Queen? Netizens React to Alexander King’s Upcoming Wedding.”
Paparazzi camped outside their small home, their cameras flashing whenever Isabella dared step outside. Neighbors whispered behind curtains, strangers online dissected her life as though she were a reality show.
Her hands shook as she scrolled through cruel comments on her phone.
She’s just after his money.
Gold-digger.
She must have trapped him somehow.
She doesn’t deserve him.
Isabella wanted to scream, to defend herself, but she knew no one would listen.
The next week was a blur. She was whisked away into a world she didn’t recognize; designers measuring her body, stylists fussing over her hair, assistants bombarding her with schedules and instructions.
“Stand still, Miss Cruz.”
“Don’t slouch, Miss Cruz.”
“Smile more, Miss Cruz.”
She felt like a doll being dressed up for display.
At her final gown fitting, she stood before a mirror in a shimmering white dress that cost more than their entire house. It clung to her slender frame, beads glittering under the light. But instead of feeling like a bride, she felt like a fraud.
The door opened, and icy laughter filled the room.
“Well, well. So it’s true.”
Isabella turned to see a tall, elegant woman striding inside. Her blood turned cold. She didn’t need an introduction—she knew this was Victoria Hale, Alexander’s ex-fiancée. Socialite, business heiress, and every inch the woman Isabella was not.
Victoria’s eyes raked over her with disdain. “ Is this the woman replacing me? She looks like she crawled out of a bargain shop.”
Isabella flinched, gripping the folds of her dress.
Before she could respond, another voice cut through the tension. “That’s enough.”
Alexander walked in, his presence filling the room instantly. He didn’t spare Victoria a warm glance, only a cold glare.
“Leave,” he commanded.
Victoria’s jaw tightened. “You can’t be serious, Alex. You’re marrying her? She’s nothing. She’ll embarrass you.”
“I said Leave.” His tone was final, brooking no argument.
For a moment, Victoria’s perfectly painted face twisted with fury, then she spun on her heels and stormed out.
Isabella’s heart raced, her chest tight with humiliation. She expected Alexander to comfort her, to reassure her, but instead he adjusted the cuff of his sleeve and turned back to business.
“The fitting is over. Be ready by tomorrow,” he said coldly, and walked out.
The wedding was held at one of the most luxurious hotels in the city. The grand ballroom was transformed into a palace of roses and chandeliers, the air perfumed with lilies and champagne. Every table was filled with powerful business people, politicians, and celebrities.
Isabella stood at the entrance in her wedding gown, clutching the bouquet with trembling hands. Cameras flashed wildly as she began her walk down the aisle. The weight of a thousand eyes bore down on her, each whisper and murmur slicing into her skin.
“She’s just a nobody.”
“He’s marrying beneath him.”
“This is just a publicity stunt.”
Her heart pounded as she looked at Alexander waiting at the altar. He stood tall and regal in his black tuxedo, his expression unreadable. Not a smile, not even a flicker of warmth.
When she finally reached him, he took her hand, firm and possessive, as though sealing a deal.
The officiant began, but Isabella barely heard the words. Her ears rang, her vision blurred from the blinding flashes of cameras.
“Do you, Alexander King, take Isabella Cruz…”
“I do,” Alexander said flatly, his voice cold, as though reciting a business agreement.
“And do you, Isabella Cruz, take Alexander King…”
Her lips trembled. For a brief moment, she wanted to scream no, to run away, to disappear. But then she saw her mother in the front row, her face pale but glowing with fragile pride.
Isabella forced the words out. “I… do.”
Applause thundered, cameras clicked endlessly. The world now knew her as Mrs. King.
But inside, she felt like a prisoner.
That night, the mansion felt colder than ever.
The wedding guests were gone, the noise faded, leaving only silence echoing through the vast halls. Isabella stood by the window of her new bedroom, still wearing her gown, staring out at the city lights.
When the door opened, Alexander walked in, his tie loosened, his eyes sharp as ever. He carried two glasses of champagne and set one down in front of her.
“To new beginnings,” he said simply.
She didn’t touch the glass. “This isn’t the beginning. It’s a cage.”
He smirked faintly. “Cages can be comfortable if you learn to live in them.”
Her chest tightened. “Why me? Why put me through this humiliation?”
Alexander leaned closer, his voice low. “Because you agreed. You signed the contract. You chose this, Isabella.”
She shook her head, her eyes burning. “I chose survival. Not you.”
He chuckled darkly, catching her wrist as she tried to turn away. His touch was firm, unyielding. He leaned down until his lips brushed her ear.
“From now on,” he whispered, his voice sending shivers down her spine, “You belong to me, Isabella. Body, name, reputation—everything. Don’t ever forget that.”
Her breath hitched, fear and anger colliding inside her.
And for the first time since signing the contract, Isabella realized that her nightmare had only just begun.
- Writer
