The Wedding Day

[POV Elara]

The world seems to stop as I stare up at Kaelen Vexton. He stands tall, a formidable silhouette against the glowing streetlights. His broad shoulders block the chilly night wind, casting a long shadow over me. He is supposed to be confined to a wheelchair, a helpless cripple. Yet here he is, resting his weight firmly on his own two legs. The sheer presence of him radiating power steals the breath right from my lungs.

He glares down at me. Disgust flashes in his dark, icy eyes. My jaw hangs open in shock, but he remains unfazed by my reaction. His expression hardens into a mask of pure indifference. He turns his back on me, his strides long and powerful, heading toward a sleek black car parked by the curb.

"Are you blind?" a furious voice snaps from the front seat of the vehicle.

The sudden shout yanks me back to reality. I flinch, blinking past the blur of my tears. A burly driver leans out the window, his face contorted in anger.

"You almost got my boss hurt stepping into the road like that!" he yells.

Kaelen settles into the back seat. He shifts his gaze to the open window, his intense eyes locking onto my face. The heavy tension between us thickens the cold air.

"Let it go, Gannon," Kaelen orders. His voice is a low, authoritative rumble that sends a chill down my spine.

"But sir—"

"Drive."

As the heavy door swings shut, the interior light flickers. In that brief second, I catch a startling glimpse of the back seat. A black wheelchair sits folded in the corner, a stark contrast to the man who just walked flawlessly across the pavement. The tinted window rolls up, cutting off my view.

I stand shivering on the damp asphalt as the black car speeds away, disappearing into the dark city. Was he wandering the streets tonight for the same reason? Was he trying to run away from tomorrow's forced wedding? I wrap my arms around my freezing torso. I hope so. Because I have nowhere left to run.

My chest tightens as Silas's betrayal replays in my mind like a broken record. The muffled moans from his apartment echo in my ears, shattering whatever remains of my broken heart. I gave him everything, trusted him blindly, only to be tossed aside like trash. Now, I am stranded on the pavement, penniless, and exhausted. I have no choice left. Slowly, I drag my aching legs down the empty sidewalks, forcing myself to walk back to the Crestwell Estate to face my inevitable fate.

The grand entrance of the estate feels like a prison gate. The second I step through the heavy doors, a sharp hand snatches my arm.

My aunt Rowena lunges at me, her painted nails digging into my skin.

"You wretched whore!" she screams. Her face twists in ugly rage, veins popping on her neck. "You tried to run away, didn't you?!"

I stumble forward, trying to pry her fingers off my bruising flesh. "Let me go!"

"After everything we have done for you, you want to bring shame to this family!" She raises her free hand, her palm flying toward my cheek.

I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for the sting. A thick hand catches her wrist mid-air.

My uncle steps between us, his grip firm on her arm. "Stop. We cannot risk bruising her face for the cameras tomorrow."

Rowena scoffs, yanking her hand away. "You are lucky," she sneers, shooting me a venomous glare.

Footsteps echo from the sweeping staircase. Tinsley stands on the landing, her arms crossed. She glares down at me with bitter jealousy burning in her eyes. Without a word, she hurls a heavy garment bag over the banister. It sails through the air and lands directly at my feet with a heavy thud.

"It is your wedding dress," Tinsley spits, marching down the stairs. "It arrived only minutes ago."

I stare at the black velvet bag lying on the marble floor.

"I cannot believe she gets to wear a dress like that," Tinsley complains, her voice whining through the grand foyer. "It is embedded with real diamond stones. Why couldn't the arranged marriage be between me and one of the other brothers?" She sighs, tracing a finger along the banister. "They looked so flawless and hot."

Rowena’s harsh expression softens as she turns to her daughter. She pats Tinsley's shoulder, feeding her sweet lies. "Do not worry, my darling. The immense wealth from this marriage will secure the funds we need. Your father will find you an even better match. One who isn't a cripple."

My aunt spins back to me, her voice turning to ice. "Pick it up. Try on the gown. We need to ensure a perfect fit."

They force me up the grand staircase and into Tinsley's massive bedroom. I strip off my cold, damp clothes under their watchful, judging eyes. The gown is insanely heavy, weighing down my tired shoulders. The sparkling diamond stones catch the bright chandelier light, blinding me with their constant shine. It features a daring sleeveless cut and a dramatic bow resting at the base of my spine. The fabric hugs my figure tight, restricting my breathing.

Rowena sneers at my reflection in the floor-length mirror. "Your miserable face ruins the gown. Take it off."

Once I am back in my oversized t-shirt, she shoves me down the hall. She pushes me hard into my tiny, cramped room.

"I will be locking this door from the outside," she warns, holding up my confiscated phone. "Just in case you get any more stupid ideas."

The lock clicks, trapping me in the dark. I sink to the hard floor, pulling my knees tight to my chest. I bury my face in my trembling palms and let the tears fall. The sobs wrack my body, shaking my shoulders. I cry for Silas. I cry for the life I wanted. I cry for the cage I am trapped in. This is undeniably the worst birthday of my life.

The next morning arrives in a chaotic blur. The lock clicks open before the sun fully rises. Rowena barks orders, ushering in a swarm of elite stylists.

"Get to work," she demands. "We need to be at the venue in two hours."

They descend upon me like vultures. The next grueling hours blur together in a dizzying storm of activity. I sit rigid in the plush chair while they scrub, paint, and pin. Soft powders dust my cheeks, smelling faintly of vanilla and rose. Sharp pins dig into my scalp as they pull my thick hair up into a tight hold. Precise brushes sweep across my eyelids, layering colors to hide the dark circles of my sleepless night. The sheer volume of people prodding my skin, tugging my dress, and adjusting my posture is overwhelming.

"Stand up," the head stylist commands.

They drag a towering mirror in front of me. I stare at my reflection. My jaw drops.

I am unrecognizable.

My messy hair is now a sculpted, curly bun resting elegantly on my crown. The shimmering diamond gown hugs my waist, flaring out in a flawless silhouette. Bright crimson lipstick contrasts with soft, smoky eyeshadow. Delicate nude polish coats my nails. They slide a pair of glass heels onto my feet, forcing my posture to straighten, transforming my stance. I look like a stranger.

Rowena, my uncle, and Tinsley stand in the doorway. They wear their most expensive designer pieces, but their arrogant expressions falter. They stare at me in silent, envious disbelief.

"Time to go," Rowena snaps, breaking the silence.

We march outside to an impossibly long black limousine waiting in the driveway. The driver steps out to open the door. He bows his head slightly.

My breath hitches. It is Gannon. The exact same man who chauffeured Kaelen Vexton last night. I freeze, waiting for him to yell at me again. I wait for the accusations.

He just gestures toward the open door, his face blank. Deeply hidden behind the glamorous transformation and heavy makeup, he does not recognize me at all.

I climb into the back, my heart pounding against my ribs. The leather seats are soft, the interior smelling of expensive cologne and polished wood. We drive through the bustling city streets, leaving the familiar roads of the Crestwell Estate behind. The towering skyscrapers eventually give way to sprawling green landscapes and winding private roads, heading straight toward the Vexton Manor.

The massive iron gates loom ahead, crested in gleaming gold. Security guards line the entrance. The estate is magnificent, a sprawling white structure that looks more like an ancient castle than a home. The sheer size of the grounds is staggering. We pull up to the main entrance where a crowd of elegantly dressed family members waits.

Mrs. Vexton stands at the front, her long blue gown sweeping the stone steps. She beams with rushed enthusiasm the moment I step out of the car.

"Marvelous, what an angel!" she announces. She closes the distance and wraps her arms around me, trapping me in a suffocating hug. "Let the ceremony begin! We have no time to waste."

She ushers us inside, her steps fast and urgent. We step into an opulent event room that feels endless. Thousands of fresh roses weave up the towering pillars, their sweet scent hanging heavy in the air. Shimmering red carpets cover the pristine marble floors. Rows upon rows of solid gold chairs face the far end of the room.

Behind me, Tinsley gasps. "I thought I had seen the height of luxury," she whispers.

"Just wait," Rowena snickers, keeping her voice low. "Think of the endless wealth coming our way."

Brutal reality crashes over me. The grand pianist strikes the keys, sending the haunting melody of the bridal march echoing off the vaulted ceilings.

My uncle steps to my side. He grips my arm tight, his fingers digging into my skin through the fabric of the dress. He pulls me forward, walking me slowly down the long, intimidating aisle.

I swallow the lump in my throat. I stare straight ahead, my mind chanting a desperate, silent mantra. *Don't cry, Elara. Do not cry.*

Hundreds of elite guests turn in their gold chairs. Their eyes glue to my face, dissecting my every step. The weight of their stares makes my skin crawl. I pray for the marble ground beneath my glass heels to split open and swallow me whole.

We reach the end of the aisle. My uncle lets go of my arm, leaving me alone at the altar.

I turn my head. Kaelen Vexton sits beside me.

He is back in his large black wheelchair. He wears a sharp grey suit, a crisp white shirt, and a dark tie. He leans back against the leather seat, looking utterly bored and uninterested in the grand spectacle around him. Why is he using the wheelchair again?

I study his profile up close. His features are godly, carved with razor-sharp precision—a strong jawline, high cheekbones, and dark, brooding brows. Yet the deep coldness in his eyes terrifies me to my core. The air around him feels dangerous.

The priest steps forward to the microphone. The music fades into silence.

"Miss Tinsley Crestwell?" the priest asks, his voice booming across the massive room.

I flinch. My shoulders jerk. Panic spikes in my chest as I remember I have to assume my cousin's stolen identity.

"Do you take Mr. Kaelen Vexton to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

I slowly turn my head, looking out at the silent crowd. My eyes find Rowena in the front row. She glares at me, her jaw locked tight. She clenches her fists by her sides in a clear, silent threat. If I mess this up, she will destroy me.

The silence stretching across the room is heavy and suffocating. The wealthy guests, the priest, Kaelen—they all wait for my response. The seconds tick by like a beating drum in my ears.

This is it. My one and only chance to end it all.