The wedding hall was filled with dazzling lights, but Elena White's heart felt cold.
Crystal chandeliers glittered like stars above, casting a golden glow over the crimson carpet. The fragrance of lilies and roses was heavy, almost suffocating. Rows of guests sat in silence, their eyes sharp as blades.
The whispers began immediately.
"Poor girl… she's only marrying him because of her family's debts.""Do you think Mr. Black will even treat her kindly?""He doesn't need a wife. He needs an heir—or a pawn.""She's beautiful, but beauty won't save her."
Each hushed voice pressed against her like knives.
Elena gripped the bouquet tighter, her knuckles white. She hadn't come here for love. She came because her father's company was collapsing under crushing debt, and this marriage was the only way to save it.
Every step she took down the aisle felt like walking into a cage.
At the end of the carpet stood the man who now held her family's fate—Damian Black, the most powerful CEO in the city.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, and sharp-featured. His gray eyes were colder than steel. He did not look at her with tenderness, pride, or curiosity. Only calculation.
The air thickened around him. Guests lowered their gazes, spines stiffening when he turned. Damian was a man people respected in public but feared in private. He could destroy an empire overnight, crush a dynasty with a single stroke of his pen.
Rumors swirled like storm clouds: ruthless in business, merciless to enemies, utterly indifferent to women. They said his heart was carved from ice. Tonight, this man was her husband.
Elena's heart pounded, not with love—But dread.
The priest's voice echoed solemnly."Do you, Elena White, take Damian Black as your lawful husband?"
Time froze. She thought of tearing off her veil and running into the night. But then her father's weary face appeared in her mind—eyes dulled by worry, hands shaking over unpaid ledgers. Her mother's fragile health. The hundreds of employees depending on her.
Her throat tightened. She forced out the words."I do."
The priest turned to Damian."And do you, Damian Black, take Elena White as your lawful wife?"
Damian's gaze met hers. His voice was deep, final, like a verdict."I do."
The ceremony ended. Applause rippled hollowly. Cameras flashed like lightning. Somewhere, someone whispered again, "Poor bride."
When the last guest left, Damian finally spoke, his tone sharp as steel."From now on, you're Mrs. Black. Don't forget—this is just a contract."
Her chest tightened. She had signed away her freedom, but hearing it aloud pierced deeper than ink.
The Black penthouse towered above the glittering city like a fortress of glass and steel.
Elena sat stiffly on the leather sofa, still trapped in her wedding gown. The city outside sparkled with neon lights, but inside, the silence was suffocating.
Damian loosened his tie, poured himself a glass of whiskey, and leaned against the bar. He didn't glance at her, didn't offer her a drink.
"So this is it?" Elena's voice was soft but steady. "A business deal. Nothing more?"
His lips curved faintly, but it wasn't a smile."Did you expect romance? You signed the contract. You know your place."
Her fingers clenched in her lap. She hated his arrogance, hated his cold indifference. But more than that, she hated herself—for needing him, for saying yes.
"I won't cause trouble," she whispered.
"Good." He finished his drink in one swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Because trouble won't be tolerated in my house."
The words rang in the cavernous room, heavy as chains.
Elena lowered her gaze. She had never felt smaller, more alone.
She thought back to her old bedroom, the little window that overlooked her family's garden. She remembered evenings filled with her mother's soft singing, her father's laughter when the company was still thriving. And now? All of it had been traded for this cold man and his penthouse in the sky.
The clock struck midnight. The chime echoed through the glass walls like a warning bell.
Damian stood before the massive windows, his back rigid, shoulders tense. The moonlight poured over him, outlining him in silver.
Elena's brows furrowed. "Are you… alright?"
No response.
Instead, a low growl rumbled from his chest, deep and primal. His broad shoulders trembled. His hands clenched into fists, veins standing out sharply beneath his skin.
"Stay back," he warned, his voice rough, hoarse.
Her pulse quickened. "Damian?"
A sharp crack split the silence, loud as bone snapping. Damian's body jerked violently, his shirt seams tearing as his muscles expanded. His breathing turned ragged, heavy, almost feral.
Elena stumbled to her feet, bouquet slipping from her grasp and scattering across the marble floor.No. This wasn't happening.
His gray eyes, once like cold steel, now burned into molten gold.
His muscles swelled beneath the shredded fabric, veins pulsing under skin that seemed to stretch too tightly. His jaw elongated, bones cracking as his features distorted into something no longer human.
"Damian!" Elena gasped, her voice trembling.
He turned, and the golden blaze of his eyes locked on her. A feral light burned within them, hot and merciless. His breath came in sharp, ragged pulls, lips curling back to reveal the sharp glint of fangs.
He roared. The sound shook the penthouse like an earthquake, rattling the chandeliers, shivering through the floor. Power surged through the air, thick and suffocating, pressing against Elena's chest until she could barely breathe.
She staggered backward, her heels catching on the hem of her gown. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she whispered, "W-what are you?"
Damian straightened, towering, his body more beast than man. His shoulders had broadened, his chest heaving, his hands curled into claws that glistened in the moonlight.
"You should never have seen this side of me…" His voice was guttural, broken, echoing with a resonance that no longer belonged to a man. His golden eyes burned into her like fire. "…little bride."
Elena's knees buckled. She crashed onto the cold marble, roses scattering at her feet. Her breath came shallow, sharp.
No. This couldn't be real. It had to be a nightmare.
Her thoughts spun: the contract, the vows, the whispers at the wedding. Had she walked not into a marriage, but into a trap?
The city outside glittered like a thousand indifferent stars, but inside the penthouse, the world had shifted. The elegant room, the glittering skyline—none of it mattered now. Only the beast before her.
Damian's body pulsed with raw energy, the air humming as if reality itself bent around him. He took a single step toward her, the floor trembling under his weight.
Elena's heart slammed against her ribs. She crawled backward, fingers trembling, her gown snagging against the polished floor.
"Stay… stay away from me," she whispered.
But he didn't. His claws scraped the glass as he pressed one hand against the window, the city lights reflecting in his golden eyes. His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, a battle raging inside him.
And for a moment, just a flicker, Elena saw something human—a shadow of pain buried beneath the beast.
Then it was gone.
Her world narrowed to the roses at her feet, the taste of fear on her tongue, and the blazing eyes of the man—no, the monster—she had married.
The truth struck her like lightning.
She hadn't married a man.She had married a beast.