TRAPPED IN VOWS

Chapter Five

Three weeks following George's incarceration, the wedding was scheduled.

Lillian barely had time to comprehend what had transpired before she was caught up in a never-ending loop of court processes, confidential discussions, and icy, well-considered decisions, all of which were made without her knowledge or approval.

George was gone. No matter how many times she called, no matter how much she begged for answers, all she got were closed doors.

He had been processed quickly, locked away before she even had a chance to fight for him.

She felt compelled to enter a marriage that she had never desired.

Lillian sat on the edge of her bed on the morning of the wedding, looking at the pregnancy test strip in her shaking hands.

Two lines. Positive.

The world around her became blurry, and her breath caught. Her unborn child was George's.

Her thoughts immediately returned to that passionate evening, the one time she had felt completely liberated. Desperate, careless, and caught up in the delusion that they had time, they had clung to one another that night. But now, she was hours away from marrying Clement.

She was startled out of her reverie by a loud knock on the door.

We don't have the entire day, Lillian. The chamber echoed with the words of Mr. Rogers Smith. The guests are arriving, get ready!

She barely had time to react before Isabelle peeked in. The person who had deceived her and sold her out for money, her so-called best friend, now stood in front of her with a contrived look of pity on her face.

"I'm sure you don't want this," Isabelle whispered quietly as she entered.

Lillian forced herself to remain calm as she clasped the pregnancy test in her fist. She couldn’t tell anyone—not her uncle, not Clement.

If Clement finds out, he might even try to claim the child as his own. She couldn't let that happen.

Taking a deep breath, she shoved the pregnancy test into the drawer, hiding the evidence of the one thing that still tied her to George.

"Let’s get this over with," she said coldly, standing up. Isabelle hesitated but nodded.

This is not how I wanted things to go.

Lillian shot her a glare. Then maybe you shouldn’t have sold me out.

Isabelle’s face crumpled, but Lillian didn’t care. She has bigger problems now.

The bridal dress was a work of art, a vision of elegance with exquisite lace and pure white. However, to Lillian, it felt like a jail sentence stitched into fabric. The weight of it suffocated her as the stylists pinned her hair, painted her lips, and perfected her appearance.

She barely heard their excited chatter. She should have looked beautiful but instead, she looked hollow.

All she could think about was the life growing inside her—George’s child.

Would he ever know? Would she have the opportunity to tell him? Her hands moved to her stomach, almost imperceptible through the silk layers. This baby is her last connection to George. And she would do whatever it takes to protect it.

Her uncle, Mr. Rogers Smith stood at the window and spoke softly to the officiant. He had carefully planned every aspect of the occasion, from the venue to the guest list, to make sure it would be perceived as the ideal combination of two powerful families.

Nothing had changed despite Lillian's fist clenching, fighting, screaming, and pleading. She would still have wanted to fight, to dispute, but she knew she had no power. George was gone.

And Clement? At the altar, Clement was waiting for her. Clement stood at the front of the lavish ballroom, wearing a tight black suit, his face expressionless. He looked like a guy in total control, save for a small scar on his temple that reminded him of the time Lillian had hit him with the vase.

The event combined strength and tradition in a small yet impressive way. Mr. Rogers Smith had gone to great lengths to make sure that only the most important visitors were there.

With her uncle holding her arm tightly, Lillian was approaching him painfully, step by painful step. She felt as though she was approaching a prison term with each step.

Guests whispered, some smiled, and others wondered why the ceremony had been arranged so quickly. But no one questioned it, because no one dared to challenge Mr. Rogers Smith.

Clement's eyes met hers as she arrived at the altar. Whispering, "You look gorgeous,"

Lillian was feeling nauseous. If only he were aware.

The officiant began the event with a distant hum in Lillian's ears. Her heart pounded as she fought the nausea that was rising within her.

There was more to it than simply saying "I do." This was about concealing the truth and lying. Her eyes strayed to her uncle.

His lips were squeezed into a narrow line as he stood upright and waited. A silent warning, she had no choice.

The words meant nothing to her. As he led them through the procedures, she hardly heard the officiant's voice. However, the words "Do you, Lillian, take Clement…" echoed through the audience as the officiant turned to face her.

A wave of dizziness hit her. Her vision blurred. Her breath caught. She wobbled a little and clutched the hem of her dress.

Clement quickly reached out to support her. Lillian? All eyes were on her now. Her uncle’s gaze sharpened.

Say it, Lillian. Say it.

She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, and felt her chest rise and fall. Her destiny will be determined right now.

She had the option to refuse, scream, and flee, but George was no longer there and if she ran now, she knew her uncle would make her pay dearly.

When she did speak, it was hardly more than a whisper. “…I do.”

As if she were drowning in a sea of noise, the audience's thunderous clapping appeared distant and subdued.

Clement gripped the ring tightly and slipped a barely disguised smirk onto her finger. And then the officiant spoke the final words:

“You may now kiss the bride.” Just as Lillian opened her mouth to respond, Clement's lips locked with hers, a terrifying reminder that he now had complete authority over her life.

Her world fell apart the instant their lips met. There were forced smiles and champagne toasts during the lavish event.

On the inside, however, the tension was oppressive. Music, clinking drinks, laughter, all in a celebration of a union she didn’t want.

Clement stood by her side, acting every bit the charming groom, his hand resting possessively on her back.

Nobody was aware that she was expecting a child from another man. Nevertheless, she felt the weight of it bearing down on her as she danced with Clement and faked a grin through the night.

This marriage is a lie. And she had no idea how long she could keep the truth buried.

When the first opportunity arose, Lillian pulled Clement aside, her hands clenching into fists, “Don't think that I’ll ever love you.”

Clement c****d his head to look at her, amused. Clement tilted his head in amusement at her.

He took a huge mouthful of his drink and then sipped it slowly while muttering," I don't need your love, Lillian. I just need your name on that marriage certificate.

Lillian's mind raced, and her stomach grew tight. Clement leaned in and kissed her ear before she could press him any farther.

He muttered," I advise you to get comfortable in your new life.

Despite being coerced into this marriage, she had a feeling that this was just the beginning.

As the night wore on, Lillian excused herself because she was tired. She grabbed the railing and went out onto the balcony, fighting the overwhelming panic.

Then a strong voice whispered behind her. A voice that chilled her to the bone.

Lillian, I know your secret. Her blood ran cold; she turned sharply.

And there stood Clement, his expression unreadable, his eyes dark with something dangerous.