Chapter Two
1064 Words
Ariana's POV
The ceremony passed in a blur.
One moment, I was walking down the aisle with hundreds of eyes on me, and the next, I was standing in front of Ethan Daniels while the priest spoke about love, trust, and forever.
Words that felt completely hollow inside a marriage like ours.
Still, I played my part.
I repeated my vows clearly despite the tightness in my chest. Ethan's voice stayed calm and unreadable as he said his vow. When he slid the ring onto my finger, his touch barely lingered.
Cold. Careful. Like even accidental intimacy needs boundaries.
The guests applauded. Cameras flashed. Soft music filled the hall.
From the outside, we probably looked perfect. Beautiful bride. Powerful groom. Expensive wedding. A fairytale people would envy.
If only they knew.
The reception was even grander than the ceremony. Crystal chandeliers.
Champagne trays... expensive wine. Everywhere I turned, people smiled and congratulated us and told us how beautiful we looked together.
I smiled so much my cheeks started hurting.
Beside me, Ethan barely spoke. He greeted guests when necessary and danced with me once because people expected it. Then he spent the rest of the evening drinking.
At first, I thought nothing of it.
But after the fourth glass of whiskey, I noticed the change. His jaw stayed tight. His answers got shorter. Colder. Like every minute of that party irritated him more than the last.
I had just excused myself from a conversation with one of his father's business associates when someone approached me quietly.
"Ariana."
I turned.
Julius Daniels stood beside me, wearing that calm, practiced smile of his.
"You must be exhausted already," he said lightly.
"A little," I admitted.
He glanced around the ballroom, then motioned subtly toward the quieter side of the room near the balcony.
"Walk with me for a moment."
His tone made my stomach tighten. But I followed anyway.
The noise from the ballroom softened once we stepped away from the crowd. Through the glass walls of the balcony, the city lights glittered beautifully against the dark sky.
Julius slipped one hand into his pocket and looked at me carefully.
"You handled the ceremony well," he said.
"Thank you."
He nodded. "I know this arrangement hasn't been easy for either of you."
Arrangement. Not marriage.
I stayed quiet.
"Ethan has always been difficult," he continued. Almost amused. "Brilliant but difficult. He isolates himself. And when powerful men isolate themselves long enough, people begin creating stories."
My fingers tightened around my small purse.
"There are rumors surrounding him," he said plainly. "You know that already."
I did. Everyone did. Whispers followed Ethan Daniels everywhere. Cold. Detached. Untouchable. The media loved the mystery too much to leave him alone.
"Tonight matters," Julius said quietly.
I looked at him properly then.
"What happens after this wedding will settle many doubts people have about Ethan. The board has questioned him for years. This marriage changes things. But only if people believe in it."
There it was.
Not love. Not family.
Image. Control.
He smiled at me warmly, like he hadn't just placed an enormous weight on my shoulders.
"I have every confidence in you, Ariana."
The words felt like pressure dressed up as comfort. Then he walked away calmly as though we had simply discussed flowers and music.
I stood there trying to breathe normally.
So that was what I was really here for. Not just to be Ethan's wife. But to repair his image. To make this marriage look real enough for powerful men in boardrooms to stop questioning him.
A bitter feeling settled in my stomach.
Then I noticed someone watching me.
Damian Daniels.
Ethan's younger brother leaned lazily against a pillar near the ballroom entrance with a glass of whiskey loose in his hand.
The moment our eyes met, a slow smile spread across his face. Not warm. Not cruel. Just amused. He had watched the entire conversation with Julius and found it privately entertaining.
He lifted his glass slightly in my direction.
A silent toast. Or maybe mockery. I honestly couldn't tell.
I looked away first.
By the time the reception ended, Ethan was visibly drunk. Not stumbling. Not out of control. But drunk enough that the cold restraint he had carried all evening had started slipping at the edges.
The drive back to the estate was silent.
I sat beside him in the backseat with my hands folded tightly while city lights passed outside the window. He didn't look at me once.
When we arrived, the staff disappeared quietly after leading us upstairs to the master bedroom.
My mouth opened the moment I stepped inside.
Rose petals on the bed. Candles glowing softly. Dim golden lighting. Everything arranged to look like a wedding night should look.
Romantic.
Except nothing about tonight felt romantic.
I sat at the edge of the bed, smoothing nervous fingers over my gown while I waited.
Minutes passed.
Then the bedroom door opened.
I stood up immediately.
Ethan stepped inside fully, and I saw just how much he had been drinking. His tie hung loose. His eyes looked darker somehow. Tired. Angry. He stared at me for a moment, then laughed.
The sound wasn't pleasant.
"So this is it," he muttered bitterly.
He walked to the side table and grabbed the whiskey bottle placed there.
"You must be happy," he said. "All this money. This house. The Daniels name."
"That's not why I married you.” I responded quickly
His laugh came again sharper.
"Women like you always want something."
I could hear the insult clearly even though he never said it directly.
He looked at me properly then, and his expression made my stomach twist.
"You think I don't know what my father is doing?" he asked quietly. "Sending you here to play the perfect wife while reporting everything back to him."
"What?"
"You heard me."
He stepped closer. Close enough that I could smell the alcohol on his breath.
Close enough that I instinctively tightened my grip on my dress.
"You're not here because you care about me," he said. "You're here because my father needed someone to control me with."
I opened my mouth to respond.
But Ethan's hand shot out and grabbed my wrist.
Hard enough to make me gasp.
And the look in his eyes at that moment made real fear crawl slowly down my spine.
- Writer
