Trapped with the Heir

The rain hadn't stopped; it clung to her skin like a second layer of dew. But the night hadn't started that way. She had been locked in her room for years, countless days without answers, no reasons, no light, no voice. Hours earlier, she'd been locked in her room. If this was supposed to be a punishment, she couldn't remember the crime. The door creaked open, breaking the silence she'd lived with for most of her life. Her stepmother, Selene, had stormed in without knocking, her lips curled in a cruel, almost triumphant smirk which Valerie's skin crawled. “Get dressed; your husband is waiting.” Selene snapped at her. “What?...” Valerie blinked. Her voice cracked like it hadn't been used in months. Selene's voice sharpened, “Now.” Clutching her coat like a shield, Valerie stepped back. Her pulse pounded, her entire life had been shadows; why now? Why freedom? “What do you mean?” Valeria questioned softly in a whisper, her voice hoarse. “Don't ask questions; your father is waiting.” Her heart thudded at the mention of him. Her father, a shadow of a man, never spoke to her since childhood; he was always silent, always watching. He stood behind Selene, the same way he always had, his eyes downcast, fists clenched. He did not utter a word; it felt like walking to an execution. Downstairs, the house was unnaturally quiet. No explanations were given to her, no goodbyes, just a black car outside and two unfamiliar men in dark coats standing at the door. Valerie hesitated. “Who are they?” She asked, her voice a whisper. Selene smiled, a twisted, bone-deep smile that made Valerie's chest tighten. “They are your groom's people; you should feel grateful—we almost sent Eleanor instead.” Selene blurted, shaking at the thought of sending her daughter instead. Valerie's stomach flipped. “I… I don't understand.” But there was no time to ask more; the men stepped forward and grabbed her arms. Her father flinched but didn't move, then Selene turned her back like it was done. Valerie tried her little strength to break free of their hold; she fought, kicked, and screamed, but no one helped her; no one stopped it. They shoved her into the backseat of the black SUV. Rain pelted the windows as the city blurred into streaks of gray. She wasn't told where they were going; the man beside her only stared straight ahead. Tears slid down her cheeks as she looked outside the window. Would they turn back? Would someone stop this? Minutes passed, maybe hours, and then the car stopped. A gate opened with a loud groan, thunder rolled, and suddenly they blindfolded her before dragging her out. She didn't understand what was happening until Selene's final words rang in her ears like a curse: “Be a good little bride; don't ruin this for us.” When the blindfold came off, she found herself, standing in front of a huge mansion, which stood like something out of fantasy but not the kind you'd want to stay in. It was beautiful but cold and unforgiving at the same time. The mansion's glowing lights resembled watching eyes. “Move.” One of the men said this while gently pushing her towards the grand entrance. Inside, the hallway swallows her whole; golden chandeliers shimmer above velvet carpets. Cold walls lined the corridor like quiet guards; the deeper they walked, the heavier the air became. And then the noise. A crash, glasses shattering, a roar of rage so fierce it shook the walls. And then— “Bring the girl!” A woman in black appeared. She was elegant, with regal posture and silver-streaked hair, but her eyes… her eyes sliced through Valerie like a glass. She didn't flinch at the chaos around them. She looked like she already owned Valerie. They led her up the stairs, past a broken glass case, and then they stopped at another hallway where the air grew heavier with every step. Then they stopped at a door. The woman turned without an introduction or greeting. “You will stay.” Valerie was then shoved inside, and the door slammed behind her. Valerie spun around, her heart stopped in fear. Then silence followed, but it didn't last. The storm entered in human form. Adrian Kingston. He burst through the opposite door like an earthquake in motion, tall, broad-shouldered, and drenched in rage. His black shirt clung to his chest, torn near the collar, his knuckles raw, his jaw clenched, his eyes… dark, unreadable, dangerous. At first, he didn't notice her, or maybe he didn't care. But then he did; their eyes met, and everything seemed to pause. Valerie froze; she felt her body paralyzed at that moment. She couldn't move; she couldn't breathe. He stared at her, unmoving, and then turned to the window and lit a cigarette with slow, deliberate calm. Smoke curled around him as the storm rattled the glass; he hadn't touched her. His aggressive nature at the moment had ceased, but his silence was louder than violence. Which… was strange Outside the door, she heard a whisper. “Strange, isn’t it? I hope he didn't do the unthinkable again.” Then the lock clicked, and the door opened. That same woman entered—Mrs. Kingston. She smiled, oddly warm. Behind her, maids lined the hallway with their eyes cast down. “Go doll her up…” she said sweetly. And before Valerie could ask a question, she was pulled away. Later that night, old Mrs. Kingston summoned the staff, who rushed; the priest arrived. The wedding had to be held before dawn, because for the first time… Adrian didn't destroy the girl. And that terrified everyone more than if he had.