THE HUSBAND I LEARNED TO HATE

The bride was crying. The groom didn't care. And somewhere in the magnificent ballroom of the Sinclair estate, a woman was smiling because she knew that before midnight, somebody's life would be destroyed. Vaelora Sinclair stood before the altar in a wedding gown worth more than most people's houses. Diamonds glittered around her neck, her hair was arranged in an elegant updo, and a long veil cascaded down her back. She looked breathtaking. She also looked like a woman attending her own execution. Across from her stood Cassiel Vane. Her childhood sweetheart. Her greatest heartbreak. The man she had once loved enough to sacrifice everything for. And now, the man she was being forced to marry. Cassiel looked immaculate in his black tuxedo. His dark hair was perfectly styled, his expensive watch glimmered beneath the lights, and his expression carried the sort of cold indifference that made powerful men afraid to challenge him. He didn't look at Vaelora the way he used to. There was no warmth in his eyes. No secret smile meant only for her. No trace of the boy who had once promised to love her until his final breath. There was only hatred. Or perhaps something worse. Indifference. Vaelora swallowed the lump in her throat and stared at the man who had once been her entire world. How did we get here, Cassiel? How had the boy who used to sneak into her bedroom to comfort her become the man who could watch her suffer without blinking? How had the person who once swore to protect her become the person she needed protection from? The priest cleared his throat. "We are gathered here today to unite these two souls in holy matrimony—" "Let's get this over with," Cassiel interrupted. A ripple of shocked whispers travelled through the ballroom. Vaelora slowly lifted her eyes to his face. He wasn't even pretending. He wanted this wedding finished as quickly as possible, as though marrying her were an unpleasant business meeting he couldn't wait to escape. Her fingers tightened around her bouquet. "Of course," she whispered. "Wouldn't want to waste your precious time." Cassiel's gaze flickered toward her. "What was that?" "Nothing." "Good." She smiled bitterly. God, she hated him. She hated his voice, his arrogance, his beautiful face, and the way he could stand beside her in front of hundreds of people while behaving as though she were a punishment rather than a person. Most of all, she hated herself for remembering how it felt when he used to hold her. Because a tiny, humiliating part of her still wanted him to look at her and see the girl he had once loved. But that girl was gone. Cassiel had made certain of it. And today, she intended to bury her. --- THREE WEEKS EARLIER "You're going to marry Cassiel Vane." Vaelora stared at her father. For several seconds, she genuinely believed she had misheard him. They were sitting in his private study, a room decorated with dark wooden shelves, expensive paintings, and photographs of the Sinclair family. Her father sat behind his enormous desk, looking as though he had just informed her about a business acquisition. Not the destruction of her entire life. "I'm sorry," she said slowly. "What did you just say?" "Your wedding will take place in three weeks." A strange laugh escaped her lips. "That's funny, Daddy." "I'm not joking." Her smile disappeared. She searched his face, hoping to find some indication that this was a terrible misunderstanding. There was none. "You cannot be serious." "Vaelora—" "No!" She jumped to her feet so quickly that her chair scraped violently against the floor. "Absolutely not! I would rather marry a stranger off the street than marry Cassiel!" Her father removed his glasses. "Sit down." "I'm not sitting down!" "Vaelora Sinclair, sit down!" She froze. Her father rarely raised his voice at her. He was a demanding man, but he had always treated her with a certain tenderness. Today, he looked at her as though she were another employee refusing to follow instructions. "Your family's future depends on this marriage," he said. "My future depends on this marriage? Or your company?" His silence answered her question. Vaelora's heart sank. "Oh, my God." She backed away from the desk. "You're selling me." "Don't be ridiculous." "Then explain it to me! Explain why I have to marry the one man who has spent the last two years making it perfectly clear that he despises me!" Her father rubbed his forehead. "The Vane family has agreed to merge its business interests with ours. This marriage will settle the remaining disputes between our families." "So I'm a business contract?" "You are my daughter, and I am trying to protect everything we have built." "By sacrificing me?" "By asking you to make a difficult decision for the people you love." Vaelora stared at him in disbelief. "Do you even hear yourself?" Her father stood. "The alternative is that we lose everything." She went silent. The Sinclair empire was worth billions. Their properties stretched across several countries, their investments reached into multiple industries, and their name carried enormous influence. But she had never cared about any of that. She had grown up surrounded by luxury, yet the happiest moments of her life had been spent in places where money meant nothing. A quiet garden. A school library. The old wall between the Sinclair and Vane estates. The place where Cassiel had once promised he would never leave her. She remembered those promises now with a bitterness that made her chest ache. "Does Cassiel know?" she asked. Her father hesitated. That hesitation frightened her more than anything else. "Does he know?" "His family has agreed to the arrangement." "That's not what I asked!" Her father looked away. "Yes. He knows." Vaelora's stomach twisted. "And he agreed?" "Yes." She shook her head. "No. I don't believe you." "Vaelora—" "He hates me!" "That is a private matter between the two of you." "He told me he never wanted to see my face again!" "Then perhaps this marriage will give both of you an opportunity to put the past behind you." She stared at him. Then she laughed. It was a terrible sound, broken and disbelieving. "You actually believe that?" Her father said nothing. Vaelora wiped her eyes before the tears could fall. "Fine." He looked up. "Fine?" She straightened her shoulders. "If marrying Cassiel is the only way to save your precious empire, then I'll do it." Relief crossed his face so quickly that she almost missed it. Almost. "But don't expect me to forgive you for this." She walked toward the door. "And Daddy?" He looked at her. "When this marriage destroys me, I hope your company is worth it." She left before he could respond. That night, Vaelora cried until she fell asleep. The following morning, she began planning how to survive her wedding. She never imagined that surviving the wedding would be the easiest part. --- THE NIGHT BEFORE THE WEDDING Cassiel Vane was standing on the balcony of his penthouse when his phone rang. He glanced at the screen. FATHER. He answered. "What?" "Tomorrow's wedding must proceed without complications." Cassiel looked out over the city. "Then perhaps you should stop treating my marriage like a corporate merger." "Watch your tone." "Or what?" A pause. Then his father's voice hardened. "You seem to have forgotten what is at stake." Cassiel's fingers tightened around the phone. He knew exactly what was at stake. The Vane empire. His family's reputation. The secrets that had been buried for years. And Vaelora Sinclair. Especially Vaelora Sinclair. He hated how easily her name could disturb his peace. He hated the memories that followed it. He hated the fact that, despite everything that had happened, he still remembered the exact shade of her eyes when she was happy. Most of all, he hated that he could still remember how it felt to be loved by her. "Have you told her?" Cassiel asked. "Told her what?" Cassiel closed his eyes. There it was again. The lie. His father had spent years teaching him that the truth was a luxury powerful people couldn't afford. But some secrets were beginning to rot from the inside. "No," Cassiel answered. "Forget it." "Tomorrow, you will marry that girl. You will smile for the cameras, sign the necessary documents, and do whatever is required to protect this family." "And what happens afterward?" "Afterward, you may do as you please." Cassiel laughed without humour. "How generous." "One more thing." He waited. "Do not make the mistake of falling in love with your wife again." The words landed harder than Cassiel expected. Again. His father had said again. As though loving Vaelora had been an illness from which he had barely recovered. Cassiel ended the call without responding. For a long time, he remained on the balcony. Then he opened a hidden compartment in his desk and removed a small velvet box. Inside was a delicate silver necklace. It was old, inexpensive compared with everything he owned, and completely out of place among his collection of luxury watches and jewellery. Vaelora had given it to him when they were younger. She had saved her pocket money for weeks to buy it. So you'll always have something from me, she had whispered. He had laughed at her then. I don't need a necklace to remember you, silly girl. She had smiled. Good. Then you won't mind wearing it. He had worn it every day until the night everything fell apart. Now he held it in his palm, staring at the tiny inscription on the back. Always yours. His fingers curled around it. "I hope you hate me forever, Vaelora," he whispered into the empty room. Because if she ever discovered the truth, hatred would be the kindest thing she could offer him. --- BACK TO THE WEDDING "Do you, Cassiel Alexander Vane, take Vaelora Sinclair to be your lawfully wedded wife?" The priest's voice echoed through the ballroom. Cassiel stared straight ahead. "I do." Two words. So simple. So devastating. Vaelora felt something inside her crack. She had once imagined hearing those words from him in a completely different setting. Perhaps in a little church surrounded by flowers, with their closest friends laughing in the front row. Perhaps in a garden beneath the evening sky, where he would hold both her hands and tell her she was the only woman he had ever wanted. She had imagined him looking at her with love. Instead, he looked at her as though he were signing away a piece of his freedom. The priest turned to her. "And do you, Vaelora Sinclair, take Cassiel Alexander Vane to be your lawfully wedded husband?" The entire room fell silent. Vaelora looked at Cassiel. His face was unreadable. She wondered whether he would care if she said no. Would he feel relieved? Would he thank her for saving him from a lifetime of misery? Or would he simply find another way to punish her? Her throat tightened. She remembered her father's desperate expression. Her mother's photograph sitting alone on her bedside table. The millions of employees whose livelihoods depended on the companies their families controlled. And then she remembered something else. The last conversation she had shared with Cassiel before their relationship collapsed. If you ever discover what really happened, don't trust anyone. Not even me. She had thought it was an empty threat. Now, standing before him, she wasn't so sure. "I do," she whispered. The priest smiled. "You may exchange rings." Cassiel took her hand. His fingers were cold. He slid the diamond ring onto her finger with the precision of a man completing a transaction. When it was her turn, Vaelora deliberately took her time. She held his hand and looked him directly in the eyes. "Are you happy now?" she whispered. His expression didn't change. "Put the ring on, Vaelora." She did. The priest cleared his throat. "By the authority vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride." The guests erupted into applause. Cassiel stepped closer. Vaelora's heart betrayed her with a painful, ridiculous flutter. For one foolish second, she wondered whether he might kiss her gently. Whether he might remember them. Whether the boy she had loved was still somewhere inside the man she had learned to fear. Cassiel leaned toward her ear instead. "Don't make this difficult." Her hope died. He placed a brief, formal kiss on her forehead. The cameras flashed. The guests cheered. And Vaelora Sinclair became Vaelora Vane. The wife of the man who had broken her heart. The bride of the man who had once promised her forever. The prisoner of a marriage neither of them seemed willing to escape. --- THE FIRST PUBLIC HUMILIATION The reception was a nightmare dressed in gold. Music filled the ballroom. Waiters moved between tables carrying trays of champagne and expensive delicacies. Guests congratulated the newlyweds while secretly studying every expression, every touch, and every moment of hesitation. Vaelora sat beside Cassiel at the head table. She had barely touched her food. Every few minutes, another guest approached to praise their union. "You make such a beautiful couple," an elderly woman declared. Vaelora smiled politely. Cassiel nodded. "Thank you." "How long have you two been in love?" Vaelora's smile faltered. Cassiel didn't even look at her. "We have a complicated history." The woman laughed. "Ah, young love! Always complicated." When she finally left, Vaelora turned toward him. "You could at least pretend to like me." "Why?" She blinked. "Excuse me?" "Why should I pretend?" "Because we're married!" "Exactly. The marriage certificate doesn't require affection." Vaelora stared at him. "You really are a bastard." His mouth curved into the faintest smile. "And you're still the same dramatic girl who thinks the world revolves around her." She leaned closer. "You know what your problem is, Cassiel?" "I have a feeling you're about to tell me." "You think money gives you the right to treat everyone like rubbish." "And you think tears can change anything." She went still. He noticed. For a fraction of a second, something resembling regret crossed his face. Then a woman approached their table. She was tall, elegant, and dressed in a champagne-coloured gown that fit her perfectly. Her dark hair fell over one shoulder, and her smile was bright enough to draw attention from the surrounding guests. Vaelora recognised her immediately. Seraphina Cross. Cassiel's former girlfriend. The woman whose photograph had appeared in countless tabloids beside his over the past two years. The woman who had once told Vaelora during a charity event that some childhood friendships were better left in the past. Seraphina stopped beside Cassiel's chair. "Cassiel." His expression changed. Not dramatically. Not enough for anyone else to notice. But Vaelora noticed. For the first time that evening, her husband looked genuinely pleased to see someone. "Seraphina." The woman smiled and leaned down to kiss his cheek. "Congratulations, darling." Vaelora's fingers tightened around her napkin. Seraphina finally turned toward her. "Oh, Vaelora. You look absolutely stunning." "Thank you." "I must admit, I never thought this day would come." "Neither did I." Seraphina laughed softly. "Well, life is full of surprises." Her gaze drifted to Cassiel. "May I steal your husband for a moment?" Vaelora looked at Cassiel. He was already standing. "Of course," Vaelora replied before he could answer. She smiled sweetly. "Take as long as you need. After all, it's not as though he's ever belonged to me." Cassiel stopped. His eyes snapped toward her. Seraphina's smile widened. "You're such a good sport." Then she took Cassiel's arm and led him away. Vaelora watched them disappear into the crowd. She told herself she didn't care. She told herself she had stopped loving Cassiel a long time ago. She told herself that the strange ache in her chest was nothing more than wounded pride. But when she saw Seraphina whisper something into his ear and Cassiel lower his head to listen, Vaelora felt the last fragile piece of her composure begin to crumble. She stood abruptly. "I need some air," she told the woman beside her. Nobody stopped her. Nobody noticed when she slipped through the ballroom doors and hurried down the corridor. Nobody except Cassiel. Across the room, he watched his wife disappear. Seraphina followed his gaze. "Go after her," she suggested. Cassiel looked at her. "Why?" "Because she's your wife." He laughed coldly. "Don't pretend you care about her." "I don't." "Then stop giving me advice." Seraphina's smile faded. "You know, Cassiel, I sometimes wonder whether you married her because you hate her or because you're too much of a coward to admit you still love her." His expression turned dangerous. "Be careful." "Or what?" He leaned closer. "You know exactly what." Seraphina studied him for a long moment. Then she whispered, "She doesn't know, does she?" Cassiel went completely still. "Know what?" "What really happened that night." His eyes hardened. "Not another word." Seraphina straightened. "Fine. But secrets have a way of coming out, darling." She walked away. Cassiel stood motionless for several seconds. Then he looked toward the doors through which Vaelora had disappeared. For the first time that evening, he looked afraid. --- A HUSBAND'S WARNING Vaelora found him in the corridor twenty minutes later. She had been standing near a tall window, trying to calm herself, when his reflection appeared in the glass. "Enjoying your honeymoon already?" he asked. She didn't turn around. "Go back to your girlfriend." "Seraphina isn't my girlfriend." "Wonderful. Should I send her a congratulatory card?" "Stop acting like a child." Vaelora spun around. "And you should stop treating me like one!" Her voice echoed through the empty corridor. Cassiel glanced toward the ballroom. "Keep your voice down." "Why? Afraid someone might discover that you spent your wedding reception entertaining your ex?" "I was speaking to her about business." "Of course you were." "Vaelora—" "No! You don't get to say my name like that." She stepped closer, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "You don't get to stand beside me at the altar, marry me in front of hundreds of people, humiliate me in public, and then expect me to behave as though everything is fine." Cassiel's jaw tightened. "What exactly do you want from me?" She stared at him. The question was so cruelly absurd that she almost laughed. "I wanted you to love me." The words escaped before she could stop them. Silence fell between them. Vaelora's face burned. She hated herself for saying it. She hated that, after everything, the truth still lived somewhere inside her. Cassiel looked at her for a long moment. Then his expression hardened. "You should have stopped wanting that years ago." The words struck deeper than she expected. She lowered her gaze. "You're right." For once, she didn't argue. She didn't cry. She didn't beg him to explain himself. She simply nodded. "You're right, Cassiel." Something in her voice made him uneasy. She stepped past him. "From this moment onward, I will never ask you to love me again." He caught her wrist. "Vaelora." She looked down at his hand. "Let go." He released her immediately. She straightened her wedding gown. "You wanted a wife who wouldn't interfere with your life? Congratulations. You have one." Then she walked away. Cassiel watched her go, his expression unreadable. But when she disappeared around the corner, he pressed his palm against the wall and lowered his head. Because there was something Vaelora didn't understand. He had not married her because he wanted to destroy her. He had married her because he had run out of ways to keep her alive. And the price of protecting her was making her believe he had never loved her at all. --- THE WEDDING NIGHT The Vane mansion was enormous, cold, and almost offensively beautiful. Vaelora had visited it countless times as a child, back when its gardens had been a place of laughter and secret adventures. Tonight, everything looked different. The familiar corridors seemed longer. The portraits seemed to watch her. Even the servants greeted her with cautious smiles, as though they knew something she didn't. Her new bedroom was on the second floor, overlooking the gardens. A bouquet of white roses sat on the bedside table. Vaelora stopped when she saw them. White roses. Her favourite flowers. Cassiel had once filled her bedroom with them on her eighteenth birthday, claiming that ordinary gifts were too boring for someone as extraordinary as her. She remembered the way he had smiled when she threw her arms around him. She remembered kissing his cheek. She remembered him whispering, "One day, I'm going to marry you." A bitter laugh escaped her. "Congratulations, Cassiel. You got your wish." She picked up the bouquet and carried it to the wastebasket. Then she removed her veil, took off her jewellery, and changed into a simple silk nightdress. She was brushing her hair when the bedroom door opened. Cassiel walked in. He had removed his jacket and loosened his tie. His expression was tired, but the moment he saw her, his face returned to its usual coldness. "You're in my room," he said. Vaelora slowly turned. She glanced around. The large bed. The balcony. The photographs of the Vane family. Then she looked back at him. "Your room?" "Yes." She stared at him in disbelief. "Where exactly did you expect me to sleep? In the garden?" "The guest rooms are on the other side of the house." She laughed. "You have got to be joking." "I'm not." "You're sending your wife to sleep in a guest room on her wedding night?" "I think it's best if we establish some boundaries." Vaelora stared at him for a long moment. Then she began laughing. Not because anything was funny. But because if she didn't laugh, she might finally admit how deeply he had hurt her. "You're unbelievable." Cassiel said nothing. She walked toward the wardrobe, removed a small suitcase she had packed earlier, and began placing her belongings inside. He watched her. "What are you doing?" "What does it look like?" "Vaelora." She zipped the suitcase. "Don't worry. I won't inconvenience you for another second." She walked past him. When she reached the doorway, his voice stopped her. "There's something you need to understand about this marriage." She turned. "Let me guess. No love, no expectations, no questions?" His silence told her she was right. She smiled sadly. "Anything else?" "Whatever happens between us stays between us. You will not discuss our private affairs with the press, your friends, or anyone outside this house." "Anything else, Your Majesty?" His eyes narrowed. "Don't mistake my silence for weakness." Vaelora looked at him. "And don't mistake my obedience for love." She walked out. Cassiel remained in the bedroom, staring at the empty doorway. For several minutes, he didn't move. Then he walked toward the wardrobe and opened the drawer where he kept his personal belongings. At the back lay a small wooden box. He opened it. Inside were old photographs, folded letters, and a silver bracelet with a tiny engraved heart. Vaelora had given it to him when they were teenagers. He picked it up carefully. On the inside, her handwriting remained clear. For Cassiel, my first love and my forever. He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered. But apologies were useless when the person who needed to hear them had already learned to hate you. --- THE MESSAGE Vaelora had barely settled into the guest bedroom when her phone vibrated. She glanced at the screen. An unknown number. She almost ignored it. Then another message arrived. Congratulations on your wedding, Vaelora. Her brows drew together. A second message followed. I hope you know what kind of man you've married. Her stomach tightened. She typed a response. Who is this? The reply came almost immediately. Someone who knows what happened to your mother. Vaelora stopped breathing for a moment. Her mother had died five years earlier. At least, that was what her family had always told her. A car accident. A tragic night. A funeral held behind closed doors because of the condition of the roads and the family's desire for privacy. Vaelora had been devastated, but she had accepted the explanation because her father had been devastated too. Or so she had believed. Her fingers trembled as she typed. What does my mother have to do with my husband? The phone remained silent. Then the screen lit up again. Ask Cassiel why his father disappeared three days after your mother's death. Vaelora stared at the words. She read them once. Twice. A third time. Her mother had died five years ago. Cassiel's father had disappeared shortly afterward. Vaelora remembered the rumours from that period. Business scandals. Financial investigations. An unexpected trip abroad. Explanations that changed depending on who was speaking. Nobody had ever given her a straight answer. She had never thought the events might be connected. Another message arrived. Your marriage was never supposed to happen. Vaelora's heart pounded. And if you want to know the truth, don't trust your husband. The message disappeared. Not because she deleted it. But because the sender had somehow made it vanish from her screen. Vaelora sat frozen on the edge of the bed. Outside, the wind moved through the gardens. Somewhere in the mansion, a clock chimed midnight. Her wedding day was officially over. She was now Mrs. Vaelora Vane. And she had just received her first warning. --- THE WOMAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH Vaelora didn't sleep. By morning, she had convinced herself that the messages were either a cruel joke or an attempt to frighten her. But she couldn't stop thinking about them. She dressed in a cream-coloured outfit and left the guest bedroom shortly after sunrise. The mansion was unusually quiet. She wandered toward the old library, hoping to find something that might distract her from the chaos in her head. Instead, she found a photograph. It was lying on a small table near the window. Vaelora recognised the woman immediately. Her mother. The photograph was old, taken several years before her death. Her mother stood beside a younger Cassiel, smiling at the camera. But that wasn't what made Vaelora's blood run cold. In the background stood another woman. A woman Vaelora had never seen before. Her face had been circled in red ink. Beneath the photograph, someone had written a single sentence. SHE WAS THE LAST PERSON TO SEE YOUR MOTHER ALIVE. Vaelora's fingers went numb. A floorboard creaked behind her. She turned sharply. Cassiel stood in the doorway. His gaze moved from her face to the photograph in her hands. For the first time since their wedding, the cold mask slipped. He looked genuinely shocked. "Where did you get that?" he demanded. Vaelora lifted the photograph. "Who is she?" Cassiel didn't answer. "Who is this woman, Cassiel?" He crossed the room. "Give it to me." She stepped back. "No." "Vaelora, give me the photograph." "Tell me who she is!" His expression darkened. "You have no idea what you're getting yourself into." She laughed bitterly. "Then explain it to me!" He reached for the photograph. She pulled it away. "Did you know?" she asked. Cassiel froze. "Know what?" "That my mother's death wasn't what everyone said it was?" Silence. It was brief. Barely a second. But Vaelora saw it. She saw the hesitation in his eyes. The fear he tried to hide. And suddenly, every warning she had received began to make sense. Her husband knew something. Something about her mother. Something about the woman in the photograph. Something he had no intention of telling her. Vaelora felt tears gather in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. "Look at me," she whispered. Cassiel said nothing. "Look at me and tell me you know nothing about this." Slowly, he lifted his gaze to hers. For a moment, the years between them seemed to disappear. She saw the boy who had once promised to protect her. He saw the girl he had spent years trying to save. Then Cassiel spoke. "Stay away from this, Vaelora." Her heart shattered all over again. She lowered the photograph. "That's what I thought." She walked past him. He didn't stop her. But as she reached the doorway, his voice followed her. "Vaelora." She paused without turning. "Whatever you discover," he said quietly, "remember that not everyone who tells you the truth is trying to help you." She closed her eyes. Then she looked over her shoulder. "And not everyone who claims to love you is telling the truth." She left him standing alone in the library. Cassiel stared at the empty doorway. Then he pulled his phone from his pocket and called a number he had memorised years ago. The person on the other end answered immediately. "Is it done?" a man asked. Cassiel looked at the photograph still lying on the table. "No." "Then you have a problem." Cassiel's jaw tightened. "My wife has started asking questions." There was a long silence. Then the man spoke. "Your wife?" Cassiel looked toward the window. "Yes." The reply came in a voice so cold that even Cassiel felt a chill. "Then make sure she stops." The call ended. Cassiel remained still for several seconds. Then he picked up the photograph and turned it over. On the back, beneath the faded handwriting, were three words he had hoped never to see again. SHE IS ALIVE. Cassiel's face went pale. Because the message wasn't referring to the woman in the photograph. It was referring to Vaelora's mother. The woman everyone believed had died five years ago. The woman whose disappearance had destroyed both their families. And the woman who had apparently returned just in time to witness her daughter's wedding. END OF CHAPTER ONE. 🖤