The Bride He Wanted to Hate

The boardroom was freezing. Not just because of the central air conditioning humming softly above, but because of the man sitting at the head of the long glass table — Aiden Knight. He sat still, his charcoal-grey suit tailored to perfection, hands clasped together as he stared at the woman across from him. Elira D’Souza. She sat on the opposite end, straight-backed, her fingers nervously gripping the edges of her handbag on her lap. Her eyes, a soft shade of brown that once might’ve radiated warmth, were now shadowed by confusion and unease. He studied her. Her hair was tied neatly, her face calm but defensive — as if she was expecting something unpleasant. She had no idea what was coming. And that was exactly how Aiden wanted it. He tapped the table lightly with his finger. “Do you know why you're here?” Elira tried to meet his eyes. “I assumed it was about the business proposal my father sent. The one regarding the D’Souza Foundation…” Aiden didn’t respond. He reached for a folder from the side and slid it towards her. She opened it hesitantly. Her hands trembled slightly as she flipped through the pages — loan notices, delayed EMIs, foreclosure warnings, and finally... her father’s hospital bills. Her stomach sank. “How... how do you have these?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Aiden leaned forward, voice low and calm. “Because I like to be informed before I make a transaction.” “This isn’t a transaction,” she snapped. “Isn’t it?” he tilted his head. “Your father’s medical bills are due in 11 days. If the surgery doesn’t happen before that, he might not survive.” Elira clenched her fists. Aiden stood and slowly walked around the table, stopping just behind her. "You see, Miss Verma, I don't believe in charity. I believe in fair exchange." She stood up, turning to face him. “What do you want?” He smiled — a slow, calculated smile that didn’t touch his eyes. "You." --- The silence in the room could’ve shattered glass. “What?” she whispered. “I want you to marry me.” Elira blinked at him. Once. Twice. Then she laughed. A bitter, startled laugh. “You’ve got to be joking.” “Do I look like a man who jokes, Miss Verma?” Aiden said softly. She stared at him. “You don’t even know me.” He took a slow step toward her. “Oh, I know more about you than you think,” he murmured. She took a step back. “Are you… blackmailing me into marriage?” “I’m offering you a deal,” he said, now standing inches away from her. “One year of your life in exchange for your father’s.” “That’s not a deal. That’s a threat.” Aiden didn’t blink. “Call it what you want. But the offer stands.” Elira’s heart pounded in her chest. This couldn’t be happening. People like him didn’t just marry anyone — especially not out of the blue. It didn’t make sense. “Why me?” she whispered, her voice cracking slightly. That question made Aiden pause — just for a moment. Because once, you were my whole world. Because once, I looked at you and believed in forever. And you forgot me. But his lips said something else. “Because you look like the kind of woman who can play the perfect wife — and walk away without attachment.” He turned and walked back to his seat, calm as ever. “Say yes, and your father gets the best doctors in the country. Say no… and I pull my funding from the hospital, the foundation, and everything tied to your name.” Elira couldn’t breathe. This man was insane. Cold. Dangerous. And yet... she was trapped. She thought of her father — unconscious, weak, fading. She thought of her mother — already gone. And then she thought of her childhood... a blurry place she rarely visited anymore. A village, a boy, a broken promise — but the memory was too distant to touch. “Elira,” Aiden said. “Time is a luxury you don’t have.” --- She swallowed hard. “One year?” “Yes. Legally married. In public. No real relationship in private.” “And after that?” “We go our separate ways. You'll walk out richer than you ever imagined — and I’ll have what I need.” “What do you need?” she asked, unable to stop herself. Aiden’s jaw tightened. The ride back to her apartment was a blur. Elira sat stiffly in the backseat of the black Mercedes, Aiden’s assistant beside her, silent and robotic. Her eyes stared blankly out the window as city lights passed by in streaks of gold and silver. Her mind couldn’t process what had just happened. She was going to marry a man she barely knew. No — not marry. Be sold. Like property. For one year. And all because life had backed her into a corner she couldn't escape. When the car pulled up outside her building, she didn’t wait for the driver to open the door. She stepped out, her heels clicking sharply on the pavement as she climbed the stairs to her small flat. Inside, it was silent. Dim. Lonely. She walked to her father’s room first. The nurse on duty smiled softly and nodded — her father was stable, resting. Elira stood beside his bed, holding his frail hand. “Papa...” she whispered. “I’m sorry.” She couldn’t tell him. Couldn’t tell anyone. This marriage was not for love. It wasn’t even for her. It was a trade — her freedom for his life. She sat on the couch later that night, holding the velvet ring box Aiden had given her. She hadn’t opened it yet. She couldn’t. Her phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number. > “Tomorrow. 11 AM. Civil court. You’ll be escorted.” — A.K. She stared at the message. So it was real. There would be no engagement. No family. No celebration. Just signatures, silence... and a binding contract. --- 📍The Next Morning The white dress wasn’t her choice. Nothing about this day was. Aiden’s assistant handed it to her that morning — a knee-length, ivory shift dress with delicate lace sleeves. Elegant, modest, cold. Just like him. She dressed in silence, her hands slightly shaking. The ring sat heavy on her finger now — sparkling mockery of everything a marriage should be. When she arrived at the courthouse, Aiden was already there, leaning casually against the steps. Dressed in a navy suit, dark sunglasses, and the same cold aura he carried like a second skin. He didn’t smile when he saw her. Didn’t say anything. He just turned and walked inside. --- The ceremony lasted five minutes. Two signatures. One lawyer. Zero emotions. “Elira Verma, do you take Aiden Knight to be your lawfully wedded husband—” “I do,” she said, her voice steady but dead. “And Mr. Knight, do you take—” “I do.” Click. The pen dropped. It was done. Mrs. Elira Knight. It didn’t feel real. Aiden slipped the ring on her finger with practiced ease. He didn’t touch her skin. Didn’t meet her eyes. And then, he turned to the lawyer and said, “Send the press release in one hour. No photos, no interviews. Keep it clean.” Elira blinked. “Press?” Aiden finally looked at her. “You’re my wife now, Elira. The world needs to know. Publicly.” --- 🖤 Later That Day — Aiden’s Penthouse The car dropped her at the grand entrance of a glass skyscraper. Aiden’s apartment was on the top floor. The door opened with a soft chime, revealing a massive, minimalist space — black marble floors, white leather couches, and walls of glass overlooking the entire city. Cold. Expensive. Empty. Like him. “This is where you’ll stay,” he said flatly. “You’ll have your own room.” “So this isn’t a real marriage,” she murmured. “It was never meant to be.” Elira swallowed. “Then why the ring? The press? The theatrics?” “Because the world needs to believe we’re in love.” He paused. “And I need to believe I’ve won.” Her eyes narrowed. “Won what?” Aiden didn’t answer. --- That night, Elira stood on the balcony, staring at the glittering skyline. Her mind was a storm — anger, confusion, helplessness. Inside, Aiden sat alone at his desk, a whiskey glass untouched in his hand. His eyes were fixed on a small photo inside his drawer. A worn-out, old image — of two children, laughing barefoot in a field, holding sticks like swords. The boy had messy black hair. The girl had a red ribbon in her braid. He traced her smile with his finger. “You forgot me,” he whispered to the photo. “But I never forgot you.” “Closure.”