The CEO's Contractual Marriage

I stood before the mirror, my heart pounding in my chest. The wedding dress I wore clung to me like a shroud, its imperfections glaringly obvious in the harsh light. My blue eyes, reflected in the glass, brimmed with unshed tears, their sadness only deepening each time I glanced at my phone. Desperation clawed at me as I repeatedly dialed a number that remained unanswered. "Lisa, where are you?" My voice quivered, the words barely escaping my trembling lips as I left yet another voicemail for my cousin. Each ring that went unanswered felt like a hammer blow to my fragile composure. The room around me seemed to close in, the opulence of the bridal suite lost on me as anxiety tightened its grip. The lavish decorations, the soft glow of the chandeliers, and the delicate scent of fresh flowers all felt like a cruel mockery of the chaos swirling inside me. "Miss, the young master is ready at the altar. All the guests are waiting for you," a maid's voice broke through my spiraling thoughts. Her tone carried an urgency that only added to my mounting panic. I turned to face her, my reflection forgotten as I met her concerned gaze.I raised my hand, signaling for more time, my frustration palpable as it radiated through the room. The air was thick with anxiety, a tension so tangible it seemed to press down on everyone present. The makeup team, bridesmaids, and three servants stood around me, their expressions a mirror of the nervous energy that crackled in the space. They all knew the young master's wrath was a fearsome thing, and delaying the bride any longer would surely provoke it. "Lisa, please, pick up the phone," I muttered into the device, my voice tinged with growing desperation. Each unanswered ring felt like a countdown to a looming catastrophe. "Miss, we have to go now," insisted the butler, stepping forward with a stern yet polite demeanor. His presence was a stark contrast to the frantic atmosphere, a calm eye in the storm. Despite his composed exterior, I could sense the urgency in his words. The butler's insistence was underscored by the two other servants who moved toward me, their hands gentle but firm as they took my arms. Guiding me toward the door, they were resolute, understanding that any further delay could spell disaster for all of us. My feet felt like they were encased in lead as I allowed them to steer me away from the vanity. The room blurred around me, a swirl of white lace and anxious faces. My heart raced, pounding in my ears, each beat a reminder of the time slipping away. The murmurs of the guests grew louder as we approached the door, a low hum of anticipation and curiosity. I cast one last, desperate glance at my phone, hoping against hope for a miracle. But the screen remained silent, the absence of Lisa's name a stark void in my moment of need. "Why is this happening to me?" my mind screamed as I was ushered downstairs toward the altar. The world around me blurred into a haze of motion and sound, my heart pounding in my chest. Each step felt like a march toward doom, the weight of my wedding dress adding to the sense of entrapment. I barely registered the priest's words as I stood beside the groom. His presence loomed large, a constant reminder of the life I was being forced into. I glanced at him, my eyes squinting in displeasure. The wedding ceremony, supposedly a sacred and joyous occasion, felt like a waking nightmare. The hall was a vision of white, with bouquets of flowers adorning every surface, their sweet scent cloying in the air. The few guests in attendance whispered among themselves, their eyes flicking between the groom and me. They admired the groom, a tall, handsome man in a perfectly tailored beige suit, and pitied the bride, who, according to rumors, lacked the family's blessing. "Isn't she lucky to marry such a man? Has she saved the world in a past life?" one guest whispered enviously, her words a sharp contrast to the turmoil within me. The groom stood tall and composed, the picture of confidence and charm. His smile was polished, but his eyes held a cold detachment that sent chills down my spine. To the onlookers, he was the perfect catch, but to me, he was a symbol of everything wrong with this day. As the priest droned on, my mind drifted to Lisa's absence, a glaring void in this sea of formality and pretense. Her support could have been my anchor, but instead, I felt adrift, caught in a current I couldn't escape. The whispers continued, a low hum of gossip and speculation. Each murmur felt like a needle, pricking at my composure. I felt exposed, like a specimen under a microscope, every flaw and imperfection laid bare for judgment. "She's clearly not happy," another voice murmured. "Did she even want this marriage?" The question hung in the air, echoing the doubts in my heart. My gaze shifted to the priest, then back to the groom, the enormity of the moment pressing down on me. This wasn't just a wedding; it was a life sentence, and I was the prisoner. Summoning every ounce of strength, I forced myself to focus on the ceremony. The vows, the rings, the kiss—all felt like acts in a play, each one pushing me further into a role I never wanted. The hall, the flowers, the guests—all blurred into the background as I faced the reality of my fate. As the ceremony drew to a close, I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what lay ahead. The whispers, the judgment, the groom's cold gaze—all were just the beginning of a life that felt more like a punishment than a promise. Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision. They think I'm moved by the priest's words, I thought bitterly. They have no idea how I really feel. "Miss, we must proceed," the priest urged, his voice a gentle nudge in the silence. I lifted my head, looking at the man beside me for the first time. His features were striking, his demeanor composed. "You look very handsome, but... may I know, who are you?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper, laden with confusion and despair. The guests continued their murmurs, misinterpreting my words as admiration. The whispering swelled around me like a storm, each comment a dagger to my already frayed nerves. "I accept you in joy and sorrow; I accept you in happiness and disappointment," the priest prompted, his hopeful eyes on me, willing me to repeat after him. I remained silent, my gaze fixed on the groom. He took my cold hand in his, a gesture meant to ease my nerves but only heightening my anxiety. "She's just shy," he explained smoothly, kissing the back of my hand with a practiced ease that made my skin crawl. My heart skipped a beat, the weight of the situation crashing down on me. Oh, my God, I can die! I thought, the room closing in around me. "You may kiss your bride," the priest announced, his voice ringing with finality. As the groom reached out to touch me, my composure shattered. The weight of the expectations, the whispers, the looming future all came crashing down. "Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.....!!" I screamed...