FROM HUMILIATED BRIDE TO HIS OBSESSION

Episode3

Zoey’s POV

The morning of Leon’s wedding arrived like a slap, my hands shook as I got ready the silk of my dress brushing against my skin, every mirror in the room seemed to reflect a version of myself I didn't recognize.

Christian was supposed to meet me at the hotel, I didn't know much about him, aside from the photos his agency had sent, sharp suits, sharp jawline, and eyes that seemed capable of seeing through your soul. Honestly, I wasn't sure if I wanted someone like that at my side because dangerous men make the worst companions

A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts and I nearly dropped the perfume bottle in my hand "He's here,” the hotel assistant whispered, glancing nervously at the door.

I took a deep breath and opened it. Christian Bellucci was exactly as I imagined, taller than I expected with broad shoulders, in a black tailored suit, his gray eyes were piercing, unreadable he didn't smile, didn't even nod he just studied me and my stomach twisted under his gaze

“You’re late,” he said finally, his voice calm.

“I…” I stammered, suddenly feeling the smallness of my human frame against his dominating stature. “I… wanted to make sure I looked…perfect.”

He raises a brow, unimpressed. “You’ll do.”

Just those two words and somehow it made me feel reassured.

Christian didn't waste time on pleasantries, he turned and opened the door for me his hand hovering near mine not touching just close enough to remind me he was in control. My pulse raced as I stepped out into the early morning sunlight, and the world outside suddenly felt larger.

The ride to the wedding was silent, I tried to fill the silence nervously touching the hem of my dress “So… uh, are you okay with this?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

He didn't look at me, “Do I have a choice?” his voice was flat, but there was an edge in it, like he was daring me to answer.

“I…guess not.” I swallowed hard, I wasn't sure what I was feeling, fear or something else. Something that fluttered in the pit of my belly every time I looked at him.

We arrived at the wedding venue, and cameras flashed even from the driveway. My stomach tightened, every step I took towards the venue felt like walking a narrow rope.

And then I saw him, Leon standing at the altar dressed in white, a perfect smile on his face, his face widened the second he spotted me, that tiny moment of shock oh, it was sweet.

I walked slowly my heels clicking on the marble floor, Christian stayed beside me his presence like a shield warning anyone who dared to approach me, his hand brushed mine again, and it went a thrill through me.

Leon’s expression changed from shock to confusion and then rage, he clenched his fist. The whispers started immediately, cameras zoomed in, and I could feel every eye on me every gaze like a laser burning through my already constructed armor.

Christian leaned slightly closer, his voice low and commanding “Keep your head high and don't give him the satisfaction.”

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat every nerve in my body was screaming but I forced myself to smile, to walk like I owned the world, and with Christian at my side, I felt like maybe I could.

The ceremony began, but I was barely hearing the officiant’s words my eyes were locked on Leon, who was struggling to maintain his composure, he had always thought he could manipulate me and make me look like a fool, but now the tables had turned.

After the ceremony, the reception hall erupted, guests mingled, glasses clinked, and I felt Christian’s hand brush against mine again intentionally to remind me of his presence.

“Remember the plan,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on mine, “we maintain appearances and make him regret every second of today.”

I swallowed hard, nodding “I haven't forgotten.” and I hadn't, every laugh, every confident stride, every whispered word Christian directed at me was part of the plan. I was no longer the girl who cried in her bedroom, I was untouchable, powerful, untamed, and Leon hated it.

I caught him staring at us from across the room, his jaw tight, his hands trembling slightly as he held his champagne glass, Christian’s arm brushed mine casually as we moved through the crowd, guiding me like a predator.

Whispers followed us; “Who is she?” “Is that Christian Bellucci?” “She's stunning.” They're perfect together.”

I felt a rush of vindication, proof that I wasn't weak, proof that I was in control, and Christian seemed to revel in it just as much as I did.

But beneath the satisfaction, there was something I could not name, a tension in the way he looked at me when no one else was watching. A calculated, unreadable intensity.

When a photographer came, flashing a camera in our faces, Christian didn't flinch instead he pulled me slightly closer, his hand brushing my back in the faintest way possible but enough to make it seem intimate.

“Just smile,” he said, his voice soft now, almost amused, I smiled and the camera captured it, the perfect image of a confident woman with a powerful man by her side, and the internet exploded.