The chandeliers blazed like a thousand suns, scattering gold across marble polished to mirrors. The orchestra swelled, violins trembling as if they too sensed the tension in the air. Every conversation faltered when Adrian Blackwood entered the ballroom.
He was a shadow in black, immaculate and cold, his presence commanding silence. On his arm, Elena walked with her chin high, her pale gown flowing like spilled moonlight. The seams tugged with each step, and though no one else knew it, each fragile thread felt like a noose tightening around her neck.
The whispers followed instantly.
"That's her?"
"The contract bride."
"We thought he'd marry Cassandra."
"This is embarrassing for the Blackwoods."
Elena's stomach twisted. Still, she lifted her chin, her lips curving in a faint smile carved from willpower alone. She would not let them see her shake.
Then the crowd shifted, parting like water as Cassandra Sterling swept in.
She was dressed in crimson silk, the gown hugging her like fire. Emerald earrings blazed against her dark hair, her lips painted the color of sin. The ballroom seemed to brighten at her arrival, laughter quickening, voices warming. She had always been the queen here, and tonight, she came to reclaim her throne.
"Elena, darling," Cassandra said sweetly, her voice dripping honey as she glided forward. She didn't even glance at Elena at first; her emerald eyes locked on Adrian. "I knew you'd come. You always do."
She touched his sleeve lightly, her smile blooming like roses in spring, as though no vows stood between them.
Elena's heart clenched. Cassandra knew she was there — but she treated her as invisible.
Only after a beat did Cassandra turn, her eyes finally landing on Elena. The smile widened, flawless and sweet. "You're lovelier than I imagined. Come." She slipped her arm through Elena's as if they were old friends. "Let me introduce you to everyone properly. After all"—her gaze flicked toward Adrian—"you are Adrian's wife."
The words dripped with affection, but they landed like a dagger in Elena's chest.
Gasps rippled through the circle of onlookers. Adrian's business associates exchanged incredulous glances.
One whispered, "We never thought Adrian would marry anyone but Cassandra."
Another muttered, "He was devoted to her for years. This… this makes no sense."
Cassandra laughed lightly, waving her hand as if embarrassed. "Oh, men do surprise us, don't they? But isn't she sweet?" She squeezed Elena's arm just a touch too tightly, her emerald eyes glinting with something only Elena could read: you don't belong here.
Her two friends drifted closer, smiling too brightly. They exchanged glances, suppressing laughter behind manicured hands. One leaned to the other and whispered, "Mrs. Blackwood. It doesn't sound right, does it?" The other giggled.
Heat rose in Elena's cheeks, but she forced her shoulders straighter. She would not let them see her crack.
Cassandra turned them both toward the center of the ballroom, her smile dazzling for the crowd. "Everyone, do meet Mrs. Adrian Blackwood," she announced sweetly, her voice carrying. "She's quite shy. We must make her feel welcome."
Polite claps followed, but the smiles around the room were laced with scorn. Elena caught the hiss of whispers behind gloved hands.
"She looks terrified."
"Cassandra was born for this. That girl—she'll drown."
And then Cassandra gave a small, almost imperceptible glance to her friends. A tilt of her chin. A flicker of emerald eyes.
The signal was received.
---
It happened quickly.
One of Cassandra's friends stumbled "accidentally" against Elena, catching the edge of her gown with a jeweled bracelet. "Oh! Forgive me, my dear," she said in a voice dripping mock sympathy.
Before Elena could react, the second friend leaned in, hands fluttering at her skirt. "Let me fix it—just here—"
Her fingers tugged the weak seam.
Riiiip.
The sound was like a gunshot.
Gasps erupted. The orchestra screeched to a halt.
The pale silk tore down Elena's side, the delicate fabric betraying her in a brutal line. Cool air struck her exposed skin. She staggered, clutching desperately at the ruined gown, her heart lurching in her chest.
Flashbulbs flared. The cameras feasted.
"Oh heavens!" Cassandra gasped, her voice pitched just right, hand flying to her chest. "Such delicate fabric. How dreadful!"
Her friends mirrored her shock, their voices dripping with false pity.
"So fragile."
"Cheap material, surely."
But their eyes glittered with triumph.
The whispers turned crueler.
"Pathetic."
"Not fit for Adrian."
"Cassandra would never have been so careless."
Marcus's chuckle rolled through the silence, deep and cutting. "A cheap dress for a cheap bride. How fitting."
Elena's vision blurred. Her throat burned as humiliation clawed at her. She wanted to run. She wanted to scream. But she stood frozen, a trapped animal on display.
And then Adrian moved.
He slid off his tailored jacket in one smooth motion, draping it across her shoulders before the next flash could burn her shame into eternity. The crowd gasped again, softer this time, tinged with admiration.
To them, it was a picture of devotion: the cold heir shielding his trembling bride.
But Adrian's voice at her ear was colder than the marble beneath her feet.
"Smile," he ordered, his grip iron at her arm. "Don't you dare shame me further."
Her breath hitched. The jacket weighed heavy, not like comfort, but like chains.
So Elena smiled.
Her lips curved into a trembling mask as cameras snapped, capturing the illusion of love.
Across the hall, Cassandra raised her glass high, her friends smirking behind her.
"To the bride," she toasted sweetly.
The crowd chuckled, clapped politely.
And Elena stood frozen, her digni
ty shredded with her gown, realizing the brutal truth:
Cassandra had set the stage.
Her friends had played their parts.
And Adrian had protected only his name.