As dawn broke, the first light of day spilled across the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold. A gentle breeze stirred the trees outside, their leaves whispering secrets only the morning could hear.
Inside a silent room, Elysia Arison stood frozen before a tall mirror. The reflection staring back at her felt both strange and familiar — a beautiful young woman draped in an expensive wedding gown, its luxurious embellishments catching the faint sunlight. The dress was breathtaking, yet to Elysia it felt more like a shackle than a gift.
Today I'm to be married into a life I never chose… Her emerald-green eyes shimmered, not with joy, but with restrained tears. Dreams she once held — freedom, love, her own story — dissolved like mist before the morning sun. She forced the tears back. She could not afford to break. Not now.
The door creaked open. Mrs. Evelyn Bennett, her mother, stepped in. Bitterness clouded her gaze as it landed on Elysia's radiant figure.
"Get yourself out of here before the guests begin wondering," Evelyn snapped. "Don't make this look more suspicious than it already is."
Elysia turned away, unwilling to let her see the crack in her heart. She moved toward the door, but Evelyn's hand clamped around her wrist nails digging into her skin.
"I'm warning you," her mother hissed. "Do not do anything foolish. Keep that pretty smile plastered on your face before I decide to make your life more miserable than it already seems. You should be grateful — you're about to be richer than any woman in this hall."
Grateful… The word tasted like poison.
Escorted down the corridor, Elysia felt every step heavy with finality. The hall doors opened, and all eyes turned toward her. Whispers rippled across the crowd — some praising her beauty, others mocking in cruel undertones. She held her head high, ignoring the piercing stares, walking with elegance her heart refused to feel.
Then came Elena. Her older sister, her reflection in certain features but never in soul. Elena approached with an exaggerated smile, arms wrapping around her in a hug that felt more like mockery.
"Oh, wow," Elena breathed dramatically. "I never imagined you could look this good today."
Elysia met her sister's gaze coolly. "Elena, I hope you don't have anything up your sleeve. I don't want to make a scene here."
Her sister's eyes gleamed with cruel delight. "Don't forget, this was never meant to be yours. I let you enjoy this little slice of life only because you looked more pathetic than usual. I'm the one who should be standing in those shoes right now."
With a shove of her shoulder, Elena walked past her with arrogant grace, leaving Elysia trembling from equal parts rage and despair.
The tension grew unbearable as time dragged on. The groom had yet to appear. Guests shifted uneasily, their whispers louder, crueler. Just as her patience threatened to unravel, the sound of engines filled the air. A line of luxurious cars — a black Bentley, a gleaming Rolls-Royce, and others — pulled to a stop before the venue.
From the lead car stepped a man in his fifties, impeccably dressed in a tailored Ermenegildo Zegna suit. His presence commanded silence, his aura a mix of authority and danger. Evelyn hurried forward with an eager smile.
"Hello, sir. I am Mrs. Evelyn Bennett, mother of the bride. You must be—"
But the man walked past her without a glance, his eyes fixed only on Elysia.
"Miss Arison, I presume?" His voice was deep, steady, unsettlingly calm. He extended a hand. "Leander Storm. But you may call me Mr. Storm."
Her hand trembled as it touched his. Yes… I am.
The crowd erupted with gasps. The rumors were true. She was being taken by the Storm family.
"If you're ready," Mr. Storm said smoothly, "I've come to take you home."
Home… The word felt hollow. Still, it was escape. Without hesitation, she followed him into the waiting car.
Leaving all the people in the ceremony toungue tied with the turn of event.
---
The ride was silent, oppressive. Elysia's thoughts spiraled. Every choice she might have made in life had been stripped away. Now she sat caged in luxury, bound to a future she did not understand.
When the car finally slowed, Mr. Storm opened the door. "Miss, we're home."
Her eyes widened. The mansion before her was like something out of a dream — towering walls, sweeping gardens, beauty arranged to perfection. Lined before her were rows of maids, their smiles warm, almost unnervingly so.
"Welcome, young miss," they chorused, bowing in unison.
The sweetness of the gesture only made her suspicious. She forced a polite smile and followed Mr. Storm inside.
The interior was grand, but before she could take it in, her eyes locked on an elderly woman seated gracefully in the living room, sipping tea as if she had been waiting all morning. Her aura was commanding, elegant, dangerous.
"You're not going to just stand there, are you?" the woman's voice snapped Elysia out of her daze.
Elysia approached hesitantly.
"I am your grandmother-in-law," the woman said with a thin smile. "You may call me Mrs. Calista. That troublesome husband of yours refuses to come home, but don't worry. Everything here can be yours… if you learn how to handle him."
Elysia's pulse quickened. The woman's eyes were sharp, almost predatory.
"All I require," Mrs. Calista continued, "is that you keep him in line. Bend him to your will. A man is only as powerful as the woman who controls him."
Her smile lingered as she rose, handing a card to the housekeeper, Mrs. Lona. "Prepare her room. His room."
Mr. Storm shifted uneasily. "Do you think that's wise?"
Calista's smirk was chilling. "Trust me, Leander. Nothing provokes him better. Let's see how long he can resist."
---
Elysia was escorted up to the third floor by a maid named Lilie, who handed her a key.
"This is your room, young miss. If you need anything, call for me."
Elysia hesitated. "Wait, Lilie… help me with this gown, please. I can't manage it alone."
The maid loosened the gown's ties but stopped at the threshold. "Forgive me, miss. We are not allowed to enter this floor. Only Mr. Storm does… and this bedroom belongs solely to the young master."
The words struck Elysia like thunder.
Illness? Madness? Secrets? Her mind raced with possibilities, each darker than the last.
She stepped into the room. It was immaculate, luxurious, but eerily cold.The Curtains were drawn with a heavyshadow. As she moved forward, the lights flickered on automatically. Her lips parted in awe. The space was beautiful, almost unreal. But despite its perfection, she felt like an intruder trespassing in someone else's sanctuary.
Her heart pounded. She couldn't shake the prickling sense of being watched.
On one side, a vast glass closet revealed neatly arranged suits and beside them, rows of untouched women's clothing, each piece tagged and pristine, as if prepared for someone who had never arrived.
Her breath caught.
She slipped out of her gown, the unease gnawing at her, and escaped into the bathroom. Warm water finally cascaded over her, soothing her trembling body. But even there, as the steam rose and the tension eased from her muscles, the feeling lingered as goosebumps were allover her skin as she felt unknown presence watching her.