The wedding passed like a dream she wasn't supposed to have.
Ariana stood beside Alexander Volkov under a sky of glass chandeliers and Venetian roses, her fingers trembling as the priest's voice echoed through the grand hall.
Do you, Aria Cruz, take this man
She heard her voice answer, quiet but firm, "I do."
Do you, Alexander Volkov…
"I do." His tone was clipped, formal, and cold as steel.
Applause rippled through the crowd a sea of powerful business magnates, fashion icons, and politicians. Cameras flashed. Glasses clinked.
And through it all, Alexander barely looked at her.
When the ceremony ended, he leaned close, his breath brushing her ear.
"Congratulations, Mrs. Volkov. You've officially sold your soul."
The words struck like ice.
The evening reception glittered with excess gold-lined tables, crystal wine, live orchestra but Ariana felt suffocated by the weight of deception.
Every smile she gave, every "thank you," was a lie.
She didn't know these people. She didn't belong here.
From the head table, Alexander spoke quietly with a tall Korean man Rafael Kim, his best friend and business partner. They exchanged a few words in low tones before Alexander's sharp gaze flicked toward her again.
"Your husband looks intense," Rafael remarked, walking over with a charming smile. "But you look radiant, Mrs. Volkov. May I get you a drink?"
Ariana smiled politely. "Water, please." She didn't trust herself with champagne.
Rafael chuckled. "You've changed, Aria. Usually, you'd order something stronger."
Her heart skipped. Usually?
She forced a soft laugh. "New beginnings, new habits."
He gave her a curious look, then nodded. "Right. New beginnings."
Later that night, the reception ended, and the couple was escorted to the private villa overlooking the Grand Canal.
It was breathtaking white marble floors, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a canopy bed draped in silk.
Ariana stood by the window, watching the moonlight dance across the water. Her wedding ring caught the light, mocking her.
Behind her, Alexander loosened his tie, his reflection cold in the glass.
"Let's set a few rules," he said, his tone clipped. "You don't touch my work, my phone, or my private wing. In public, you'll play the perfect wife. In private, we'll stay out of each other's way."
Ariana turned to face him. "That's fine. I didn't ask for this either."
He arched a brow, almost amused. "No? Then why agree to marry me?"
She swallowed hard, masking her panic. "You know why, Alexander. Our families"
He cut her off sharply. "Don't lie to me."
Her pulse spiked. His gaze pinned her in place sharp, assessing, like he was peeling away her mask.
"You're different," he said quietly. "Your eyes they're not as cold as before."
Ariana forced a nervous laugh. "People change."
"Not overnight."
For a long moment, silence stretched between them heavy with suspicion and something else she couldn't name.
Finally, Alexander turned away. "You can have the bed. I'll take the study."
He walked toward the door, stopping only once. "Whatever game you're playing, Aria, just remember I always find out the truth."
The door closed softly, leaving Ariana alone in the golden silence.
She sank onto the bed, her hands trembling.
He suspects something already.
And as the clock struck midnight, the new Mrs. Volkov realized her marriage wasn't just a lie
It was a ticking time bomb.