Trapped with the Heir

The Bride Before Dawn

The bathwater was cold, or Valerie simply couldn't feel warm anymore.

Maids scrubbed her skin in silence, their expressions blank and their movements robotic. The marble walls echo every splash, breath, and beat of her racing heart.

Neither she nor they spoke. Nobody told her what time it was; only that the wedding had to happen before dawn.

As if the deadline meant life or death.

A heavy towel was wrapped around her shoulders, and someone combed through her tangled hair while another applied perfume that was both sweet and sharp, like poisoned roses.

Still, no one explained why she was there or what Adrian Kingston expected from her.

The silence said it all; she was just a body in a dress.

When they brought in the gown, Valerie's heart broke. It was white, of course. But it wasn't soft or romantic; it appeared to be a lie. Pearls stitched into the bodice, a slit up her thigh, long sleeves, tight corset, and bare back.

A costume.

The maid whispered, "The last bride wore this too…"

Then she was immediately silenced. Valerie felt her throat close.

They zipped her in and fastened the heels she wasn't used to wearing. Her legs trembled with each step, and her reflection in the mirror appeared barely human. Her skin was pale, her eyes hollow, and her lips painted to resemble a doll.

She didn't know who this girl was at the moment.

The hallway outside the dressing room was darker now. The velvet curtains were drawn, and the storms outside hadn't subsided. Thunder continued to rumble in the distance, and the wind rattled the windows like impatient fingers.

The air was thick with unsaid things.

"Where's Selene?" Valeria asked. her hands gripping the frame of the door to steady herself. No one responded, and no one looked her in the eye.

They led her forward quietly, step by step, like a funeral march in white. When she arrived in the foyer, the priest was already waiting.

Adrian, however, wasn't present, nor were any guests. There were no flowers, candles, or music; only servants lined the walls, heads bowed like mourners. Mrs Kingston sat elegantly at the top of the stairs, watching like a queen over a kingdom full of secrets.

Valerie's voice trembled, "I don't understand what's happening."

Mrs. Kingston smiled, calm and composed. "You don't need to understand; you just need to obey."

The priest cleared his throat and asked, "Shall we begin?"

"Not yet."

Adrian's voice sliced through the silence like a sharp blade. He emerged from the shadows, still wearing the same torn shirt, his jaw set, his dark eyes unreadable. He walked past her as if she didn't exist.

Valerie slowly turned to watch him climb the steps to his mother. They whispered, barely audible, but the tension was high enough to make the air feel heavy.

Mrs.

Mrs Kingston's voice was low and clipped. "You will marry her."

Adrian did not respond, instead giving Valerie a cold glare before returning his gaze to his mother.

"Why this one?" he inquired.

"She survived the arrival; that's enough."

Valerie's blood became cold. What about the arrival? Survived? What happened to the others?

Adrian returned his gaze to her, but something felt different this time. His state was no longer blank.

It was curious and calculated, as if he were attempting to solve a puzzle he didn't expect to be interested in.

He then gave a quiet smirk with his mouth. "I hope you're not fragile," he said. "Because you are mine now."

Valerie stiffened as her nails dug into her palm. She didn’t speak.

She could not.

Mrs. Kingston clapped her hands. "Enough stalking; priest, proceed."

So, beneath the stained glass windows of an empty mansion, strangers are watching, and there is no way out. Valerie made vows she couldn't understand to a man she feared.

Adrian did not hold her hand. He didn't even look at her as he repeated his lines. There is no kiss or affection, only the binding of two souls by force.

Nobody applauded or smiled when the priest announced them as husband and wife.

Mrs. Kingston descended the stairs. "Take her to the west wing," she instructed. "And lock the door this time."

Valerie's eyes widened. "Lock the—?"

But her words faded as Adrian approached. For a brief moment, she believed he might speak. Maybe he could explain, but he didn't. He continued to look at her with a strange look in his eyes. And walked away.

A maid gently pulled her hand. "Come, miss."

Valerie followed her, feeling numb at the time. Her heels echoed against the marble as she was led down a long, maze-like hallway.

They passed the locked door, and she heard whispers behind it. Sobs behind others. But nobody opened them.

The west wing was colder, less decorated, and almost abandoned. The lights flickered slightly, and the walls were bare. The paintings had been removed, and the curtains were gone.

The air in that place had a different smell, reminiscent of damp stone and hidden secrets.

She was pushed into a room with a gentle thud. I had a bed, a fireplace, and a tall window with iron bars.

She turned around. "Why are there bars?"

The maid averted her gaze. "It's for safety, miss."

"Whose?" She asked, with cold chills running down her spine and no response. The door shut in her face, leaving her alone once more. But this time, it's not hidden. This time, she was owned.

Valerie sank against the edge of the bed, her dress rubbing against her skin. Her hands trembled on her lap. She felt cold deep inside her bones. This room wasn't designed for warmth or comfort.

She looked at the barred windows again, then at the fireplace, but there was no fire. There was no comfort given.

Despite this, she had a feeling that someone would be very tall. She wasn't sure whether it would be Adrian, his mother, or someone else entirely. She was not sure if she would make it through the night. But one thing was certain: this mansion, marriage, and date were never intended to save her.

The light flickered, and she heard a low scraping sound behind the door. Slow and deliberate, as if someone or something was outside waiting.