The wedding dress was a cage made of silk and lace.
Aria Winters stood before the full-length mirror in the bridal suite of the Grandeur Hotel, her fingers trembling as they traced the delicate beadwork along the bodice. The gown was exquisite off-shoulder, fitted perfectly to her slender frame, with a train that pooled behind her like spilled moonlight.
It probably cost more than everything she'd owned in her entire twenty-three years of life combined.
She hated it.
Not because it wasn't beautiful. It was breathtaking, really. But because it represented everything this day truly was: a transaction dressed up as a fairy tale. A gilded prison with a price tag that read exactly three million dollars the amount her uncle owed to very dangerous people.
"You look absolutely stunning, Miss Winters," the makeup artist said, making final adjustments to the delicate pearl pins in Aria's dark auburn hair. The woman's smile was professional, practiced, completely oblivious to the fact that the bride hadn't spoken a single word throughout the entire three-hour preparation process.
Aria forced her lips into what she hoped resembled a smile and nodded. She'd learned over the past seven years that most people filled silence with their own narratives anyway. They rarely noticed that she never actually spoke.
The door to the suite opened, and Elena Chen swept in like a whirlwind of righteous fury barely contained in a lavender bridesmaid dress. Her best friend since childhood had fought this wedding every step of the way, even threatening to report the whole arrangement to the authorities. But they both knew the truth this wasn't technically illegal. Aria was an adult. She was signing the papers willingly.
That the alternative was watching her uncle get his legs broken by loan sharks was just… context.
"Everyone out," Elena said sharply to the small army of stylists and wedding coordinators. "The bride needs a moment."
The room cleared quickly. Elena's lawyer voice had that effect on people.
The moment the door clicked shut, Elena crossed the room and grabbed Aria's hands. Her dark eyes were bright with unshed tears and barely suppressed rage.
"Say the word," Elena said fiercely. "Just give me any sign, and I will get you out of here. We'll run. I have money saved. We'll go somewhere your uncle can't find you, somewhere those loan sharks can't"
Aria pulled one hand free and pressed her fingers gently against Elena's lips, silencing her. Then she reached for her phone on the vanity, typed quickly, and turned the screen to face her friend.
"I can't let Uncle Robert die. He's all I have left of my family. I know he's weak. I know he's made terrible choices. But I can't abandon him. Not after Mom and Dad…"
She couldn't finish typing. Even after seven years, the memory of that night the screeching tires, the shattering glass, her mother's scream cut short, waking up in the hospital with her voice gone and her parents dead still had the power to steal her breath.
Elena read the message and closed her eyes, a single tear escaping down her cheek. "This isn't fair. You've already lost so much. You shouldn't have to sacrifice yourself too."
Aria typed again. "Damien Blackwell paid off the entire debt. Uncle Robert is safe. That's what matters. I can survive anything for that."
"But you don't know this man," Elena insisted, her voice dropping to an urgent whisper. "I've done research, Aria. Damien Blackwell is… he's not a good man. He's ruthless. Cold. He's destroyed competitors without blinking. There are rumors about his temper, his control issues. Why would someone like him even want a wife? Why you?"
That was the question that had haunted Aria for the past two weeks, since her uncle had come to her tiny studio apartment with tears streaming down his face and a contract that would save his life.
She picked up the phone again. "His lawyer said he needs a wife for business reasons. Something about his board of directors requiring stability. I'm… convenient. Quiet. He thinks I'll be easy to ignore."
"That's exactly what terrifies me," Elena said. "Men like Damien Blackwell don't do anything without calculating every angle. There's something else going on here."
A sharp knock at the door interrupted them. "Ten minutes, Miss Winters," a coordinator called through the wood.
Ten minutes until she walked down that aisle. Ten minutes until she became Mrs. Damien Blackwell. Ten minutes until her life as she knew it ended.
Aria squeezed Elena's hand, then picked up her phone one last time. "I need you to trust that I'm stronger than I look. I've survived worse than a loveless marriage. I'll survive this too. Just… promise me you'll still be my friend when I'm on the other side of this."
"Always," Elena whispered fiercely, pulling Aria into a tight embrace. "And I'll be watching him. If he hurts you, if he so much as makes you uncomfortable, I don't care how many billions he has I will destroy him."
Aria felt a genuine smile tug at her lips. She had no doubt Elena meant every word.
The wedding ceremony was taking place in the hotel's grand ballroom, transformed into something out of a magazine spread. Thousands of white roses lined the aisle. Crystal chandeliers cast prismatic light across the assembled guests business associates of Damien's, mostly, since Aria had no family except Robert and Elena to invite.
She stood at the entrance to the ballroom, her arm linked through her uncle's. Robert Winters looked older than his fifty-two years, his face gaunt, his hands still shaking slightly from whatever his latest vice had been. But he'd managed to get sober for today, had put on the suit that Damien's people provided, and was currently avoiding her eyes with the shame of a man who knew exactly what he'd done to his niece.
"Aria," he started, his voice rough. "I"
She squeezed his arm. Not forgiveness, exactly. But acknowledgment. She understood weakness. She understood desperation. She'd felt both herself over the years.
The wedding march began.
Every head turned to watch her walk down the aisle. Aria kept her chin up, her shoulders back, her expression serene. She'd learned long ago that people mistook silence for weakness. Let them. Let them all think she was some tragic, voiceless girl being swept into a fairy tale by a powerful man.
She knew the truth. This wasn't a fairy tale. It was a business deal. And she would survive it the same way she'd survived everything else by being underestimated.
Her eyes found him at the end of the aisle.
Damien Blackwell.
The photographs hadn't done him justice. He stood at the altar in a tailored black tuxedo that probably cost more than a car, his tall frame radiating power and control. His dark hair was styled perfectly, his strong jaw clean-shaven, his posture that of a man who commanded boardrooms and bent the world to his will.
But it was his eyes that caught her steel gray, sharp as blades, fixed on her with an intensity that made her breath hitch. They tracked her every step down the aisle with the focus of a predator watching prey.
No warmth. No affection. Just… assessment.