Forced to marry my husband's killer

Chapter Three

Elena Harper sat in the back seat of a sleek, black limousine, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Her fingers, still slightly trembling, gripped the soft fabric of her dress—a simple, understated gown of ivory satin that had once belonged to her mother. She hadn’t imagined wearing it under these circumstances, and certainly not to marry a man she had never met.

As the car wound its way up the long driveway to the Caldwell estate, Elena felt a knot tighten in her stomach. The estate came into view—an imposing, grand mansion with tall, dark windows that seemed to watch her approach with a cold, unfeeling gaze. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being swallowed up by the shadows surrounding her.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden halt of the car. The chauffeur, an older man with a stern expression, opened her door and offered his hand.

“Miss Harper,” he said, his voice polite but distant. She took his hand and stepped out onto the gravel drive, the crunch beneath her feet echoing in the crisp morning air.

A small group of people had gathered outside the mansion, waiting for her. Among them stood a tall, striking man in a dark suit. Elena’s breath caught in her throat. This was Victor Caldwell? He was not at all what she had imagined. There was nothing old or shriveled about him. He was handsome, almost painfully so, with a chiseled jawline, dark hair neatly combed back, and piercing blue eyes that seemed to cut right through her. Yet his expression was cold, his face a mask of indifference.

“Miss Harper,” he said, his voice deep and smooth. He extended his hand, but there was no warmth in his gesture. “Welcome.”

Elena forced a smile, taking his hand. His grip was firm, almost too firm, as if he were testing her. She looked up into his eyes, trying to read something—anything—behind them, but they revealed nothing. They were as guarded as the mansion behind him.

“Mr. Caldwell,” she replied softly. “Thank you.”

Victor released her hand and turned to the man beside him, who appeared to be a priest. “Shall we begin?” he asked. There was no ceremony, no preamble, just a simple question that demanded compliance.

The priest nodded and motioned for them to step forward. Elena glanced around, noticing the small gathering of guests, all of whom seemed to be family. They were all watching her with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. She could feel their eyes on her, assessing, judging. She didn’t belong here, and they all knew it.