The sky that morning was bright—too bright for a wedding born of escape and coercion.
Aurora sat motionless before the large mirror in the bridal dressing room. Her white gown fell perfectly over her body, expensive and exquisite. Stylists moved busily around her, fixing the final details as if today were a dream meant to be celebrated.
When in truth, for her, it was the quietest punishment of all.
"Aurora, you look beautiful," one of her distant cousins said with a stiff smile.
Aurora didn't reply. In the mirror's reflection, her eyes were hollow. What she saw was not a bride—but a woman who had lost the right to choose.
The dressing room door opened softly.
Her mother entered, her steps firm and unhesitating.
"The ceremony will begin in fifteen minutes."
Aurora clenched the edge of her gown. "Mom… can we still stop this?"
Her mother looked at her for a long moment. "It's too late."
Those words were sharper than any blade.
—
The wedding hall was filled with distinguished guests. Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead, media cameras were trained on the altar, and arrangements of white flowers spread a soft fragrance that made Aurora's head feel faint.
Everyone stood as the music began.
Aurora stepped forward, each step unbearably heavy. A faint smile curved her lips—a smile she had been trained to wear since childhood. The smile of a woman from a prestigious family.
She lifted her gaze.
And at the end of the aisle stood a man in a perfectly tailored black suit.
Lucien Severin.
His expression was calm, but when their eyes met, something flickered briefly in those deep blue eyes—something that vanished just as quickly, yet was enough to make Aurora's heart stop for a moment.
She knew that look.
The look of the man who had once lain weak in a clinic.
The man who had once gripped her wrist and whispered his thanks.
Now, that man was her groom.
The ceremony unfolded like a cold formality. The officiant's words sounded distant, as if they were coming from another room. Aurora answered in a voice she barely recognized as her own.
"I do."
When the ring slid onto her finger, Lucien's fingers brushed her skin—warm.
Lucien leaned in slightly, close enough that only she could hear.
"You're not Clara."
It wasn't a question. It was a statement.
Aurora held her breath. "No."
Silence lingered between them, even as the hall filled with applause.
"I know," Lucien said quietly. "Since the first moment I saw you."
Aurora turned to him, her heart racing. "Then why—"
"We'll talk later," he interrupted gently but firmly. "Somewhere safe."
A brief kiss to her forehead sealed the ceremony. Cameras flashed, and the guests smiled in satisfaction.
They saw a perfect couple.
They did not see two strangers bound together by fate in the cruelest way.
As Lucien took her hand and led her away from the altar, one thought echoed in Aurora's mind—
Today, she officially became the wife of a man who had known her before the world knew them as husband and wife.
And for the first time since all of this began,
Aurora wondered…
whether that man was her greatest enemy,
or the only person who truly saw her.
***
Now they were alone in the silent hotel suite.
"If you knew I wasn't Clara, why didn't you stop the wedding?" Aurora asked the moment the door closed behind them.
Lucien stood near the minibar. He poured himself a glass of whiskey with calm precision, as if he hadn't just bound his life to a woman he barely knew. He took one sip, then set the crystal glass down on the table.
Only then did he turn to face her.
Aurora stood stiffly, her fingers gripping the wedding dress she hadn't yet changed out of. Her eyes demanded answers—and Lucien knew he owed her honesty.
He stepped closer.
Both of his hands rose, cupping Aurora's face gently yet leaving her no room to retreat. His thumbs brushed her cheeks, warm and steady.
"Because stopping this wedding was never my choice," he said quietly.
Aurora held her breath. "Then what was your choice?"
Lucien looked straight at her, his gray-blue eyes cold yet honest.
"I needed a wife."
The words fell without excess emotion. Without apology. Without even a hint of doubt.
Aurora closed her eyes briefly. "For business."
"For stability," Lucien corrected softly. "To end an unnecessary war, and to silence too many mouths, my dear."
He lowered his hands, giving her space.
"You appeared at exactly the right time," he continued. "Calm. Not ambitious. Not eager for the spotlight."
Aurora let out a bitter laugh. "And that's why you chose me?"
Lucien didn't deny it. "Yes. Because you're strong."
Aurora lifted her head. "I don't love you."
Lucien studied her for a long moment, then spoke in a low voice that wasn't cruel—only honest.
"I didn't marry for love, my beloved."
Silence settled between them once more.
Outside, wedding fireworks still reflected against the window glass—a sharp contrast to the reality they were facing.
Aurora took a deep breath. "Then what do you expect from me?"
Lucien stepped one pace closer, close enough to make Aurora tense.
"Only one thing," he said. "Be my wife in front of the world."
He paused, then added more softly,
"And I'll make sure the world doesn't hurt you—even your own family."
Aurora stared at him—the man who married her without love, without choice, yet with full awareness.
"Don't tell me," Aurora said slowly, her voice low and pressing, "that Clara's disappearance from the beginning… was your doing."
Silence.
Then Lucien let out a soft chuckle.
Not a laugh of surprise.
Nor one of denial.
It sounded almost… amused.
"My beloved," he said, his voice gentle yet dangerous, "you're clever."
Aurora stiffened. "So it's true."
Lucien walked away, back to the table where the whiskey glass rested. This time, he didn't touch it. He simply stood there, his back to her, as if the confession wasn't important enough to face her directly.
"I didn't force Clara," he said at last. "I merely gave her a way out."
Aurora stared at his back, her heart pounding. "You knew she would leave."
"I knew she would never stand at the altar," Lucien replied flatly. "Women like her always choose to run when it's time to pay the price."
Aurora clenched her fists. "And you prepared me as her replacement."
Lucien turned around. His gaze was calm—far too calm for a man who had just admitted to such manipulation.
"You were already on that path long before I realized it," he said. "Our meeting was no coincidence."
Aurora flinched. "What do you mean?"
Lucien stepped closer, stopping right in front of her. He didn't touch her—but the narrow distance felt even more intimate.
"I investigated you after that rainy night," he said quietly. "I wanted to know who the woman was who dared to help a stranger without asking a single question."
Aurora swallowed. "And you decided I was suitable to be a wife."
"No," he corrected. "I decided you were strong enough to endure."
The words sent a chill through her.
"What if I refuse?" she asked.
Lucien looked at her for a long moment, then answered honestly—without an open threat.
"You won't be allowed to."
Silence fell again.
Aurora looked at the man before her, fully aware now.
She had married someone who planned everything—
and felt no remorse at all.