Episode 1 – The Wedding Trap
Part 1
The golden chandeliers sparkled above the grand hall, casting light over a sea of guests dressed in silk gowns and tailored suits. Laughter and chatter filled the air, but to Amara Delaine, it all sounded like mocking whispers. Her heart pounded as she stood at the altar, her white gown flowing like a river of purity, her fingers tightening around the bouquet of lilies she had chosen with such care.
It should have been the happiest day of her life.
Her father's company had finally secured its future through this marriage alliance. Damien Cross—her groom—was a man admired for his brilliance in business and his cold, untouchable charm. For years, she had adored him from afar, believing he was her knight in shining armor. Today, he would finally be hers.
Or so she thought.
Do you, Damien Cross, take Amara Delaine to be your lawfully wedded wife? the priest's voice echoed.
A hush fell across the hall. Hundreds of eyes turned toward Damien, the man in a perfectly tailored black suit. He looked breathtakingly handsome—sharp jawline, storm-grey eyes, lips curved in the faintest smile. But to Amara's unease, his smile didn't reach his eyes.
I… He paused, his voice carrying deliberately. I do not.
The silence cracked like glass.
Gasps spread through the crowd. A wine glass slipped from someone's hand, shattering on the marble floor. Amara froze, her mind going blank. She must have misheard him. She had to.
l What? Her whisper trembled, but the microphone carried it to every corner of the hall.
Damien turned, his voice steady and cruel. I refuse this marriage. I never loved you, Amara. I only agreed to this farce because your father promised me his company shares. And now that I've secured control… He smirked, eyes narrowing with disdain. You're nothing but a stepping stone.
The words pierced her like knives.
Her knees weakened. The bouquet slipped from her hands and tumbled onto the white carpet. A murmur of pity rippled among the guests, though many watched with hungry eyes, eager for scandal.
Amara searched his face, desperate for some sign that this was a sick joke. But there was no softness, no hesitation. Only cold finality.
Her chest tightened, struggling to breathe. Damien… why are you saying this? In front of everyone?
Before he could answer, a familiar laugh echoed across the hall.
From the crowd stepped Selene Ward—her best friend since childhood, the one she trusted most. Selene's crimson gown clung to her curves, her glossy hair cascading down her back. She looked like temptation itself as she sauntered to Damien's side.
Because it's the truth, darling, Selene purred, looping her arm through Damien's. You were always just a placeholder. He belongs to me.
The hall erupted in shocked murmurs.
Amara's world tilted. Selene? The girl she had shared secrets with, leaned on through sleepless nights, trusted with her soul? Betrayal burned hotter than fire.
Her voice cracked. Selene… you?
Selene tilted her head, eyes glimmering with cruelty. Oh, Amara. You were so naïve. Did you really think a man like Damien would want someone like you? You're weak. Timid. Easy to manipulate. That's why your father trusted you with nothing but pretty gowns and polite smiles. You were born to be replaced.
Laughter followed. Not just from Selene but from Damien as well. Their mocking duet echoed in Amara's ears, each sound breaking her spirit further.
Her lips trembled. She could barely stand beneath the weight of humiliation. I gave you my trust. I gave you my heart…
And that, Damien cut in sharply, was your mistake.
Her eyes blurred with unshed tears. Around her, the guests whispered, some pitying, others sneering. Her father sat frozen, his face drained of color, unable to speak as his company's alliance shattered before his eyes.
Amara wanted to scream. She wanted to demand why—why they would ruin her so mercilessly. But her voice failed. Her body refused to move. She was a statue of broken dreams, trapped in a nightmare she could not wake from.
In that moment, she realized the truth: she was utterly alone.
Episode 1 – The Wedding Trap
Part 2
The silence that followed Selene's words was almost more suffocating than the laughter. Every pair of eyes in the glittering hall pressed against Amara like daggers, stripping her of dignity layer by layer. Her hands trembled, but she forced them to her sides, desperate not to collapse in front of them.
Damien stood tall, his hand still resting possessively on Selene's waist, as though Amara had never existed. His storm-grey gaze swept over her like she was a stranger no, worse, like she was an inconvenience.
Enough of this charade, he announced, voice sharp and commanding. This marriage will not continue. I owe no explanations to anyone.
Gasps broke through the crowd again, louder this time, followed by murmurs:
Unbelievable—on the wedding day itself?
How shameless. The Delaine girl didn't even see it coming.
Look at her face, poor thing. But honestly, how could she compete with Selene?
Every whisper burned her ears. Amara tried to meet her father's eyes, searching for comfort, but the old man sat motionless, his expression carved from stone. He looked like he had aged ten years in a moment.
Selene, meanwhile, basked in the chaos. She curled her arm tighter around Damien, her crimson gown shimmering under the chandeliers. Why waste time pretending, darling? The entire city will know by tomorrow anyway. Better to be honest now.
The word honest twisted like a knife. Honesty? When their betrayal had been cloaked in secrecy and lies?
Amara's throat tightened. She wanted to shout, to tear the smug smile from Selene's lips, to demand why her best friend had done this. But the words tangled in her chest, trapped by the weight of humiliation.
Damien turned toward the guests, as if delivering a speech. The Cross family requires no alliances. I have what I want already. This event— He waved dismissively at the altar, at the carefully arranged flowers, at the gown she had chosen with trembling joy. was merely a transaction. And now it is complete.
Her stomach lurched. Complete? As though her love, her vows, her very existence were nothing but a deal struck and discarded.
Someone laughed in the back. Another muttered about wasted gifts and favors. The shame clung to her like a second skin.
Selene stepped closer, her perfume flooding Amara's senses. You should thank us, really, she whispered, though loud enough for those nearest to hear. If we hadn't exposed the truth tonight, you would have lived in delusion a little longer. Isn't it better to wake up now?
Amara flinched. Wake up? She felt as though she were trapped in a nightmare, every breath dragging her deeper under.
Her veil slipped from her hair, drifting to the floor. She didn't reach for it. What use was a veil when the sanctity of marriage had been ripped away in front of hundreds?
Her father finally spoke, his voice cracking. Damien… you promised. For the company, for the families
Damien cut him off coldly. Business is already mine. I don't need her. He didn't bother to look at Amara. This farce is over.
The dismissal landed harder than a physical blow. I don't need her.
Her chest ached, but she refused to cry. Not here. Not before Selene's triumphant smirk and Damien's ruthless indifference. She forced her lips together until the taste of blood filled her mouth.
The guests began to rise from their seats, some rushing to whisper in corners, others openly staring at her like she was a curiosity on display. The once-celebratory music had died completely, leaving only the echo of murmurs and footsteps.
Amara's legs trembled. She wanted to run, to escape those eyes, that hall, that man she had once thought her salvation. But her body wouldn't move.
Selene leaned close once more, her voice soft and poisonous. Smile, Amara. Don't you know? The world loves a tragedy, but it loves a pitiful bride even more.
That was the breaking point.
Her vision blurred as tears threatened, but she blinked them back, staring straight ahead. If she crumbled now, she would give them everything they wanted. But still, the hollowness inside spread wider, devouring what little strength she had left.
When she finally turned to leave, the murmur of voices swelled like a tide. Pity. Scorn. Amusement. Every word clung to her like a stain.
Her father didn't rise to support her. Damien didn't call her back. Selene didn't stop smirking.
Alone, veil abandoned on the floor, Amara walked away from the altar. Each step echoed like a drumbeat of loss, each one heavier than the last.
She thought she had come here to begin a life of love. Instead, she was walking out stripped of pride, of family honor, of everything she had believed in.
By the time she reached the heavy doors, she could barely breathe. The grand hall remained behind her, filled with laughter and whispers. And she knew, deep in her bones, that nothing in her life would ever be the same again.