The Wedding

The morning sun peeped through the glass stained windows of the cathedral with so much excitement that it made no sense that it's about to witness a union made out of convenience. Isabella standing in front of the mirror with her hair tied in a rough but beautiful bun, she looked beautiful in the Vera Wang lace dress that clung to her curves like a second skin, the off shoulder sleeves bared her collar bones and the lace bodice shimmered with crystals sewn by hand, Alexander had picked this for her, "she didn't even have control over her own wedding dress", she scoffed mentally. Standing there, Isabella wished that her mother was here to tell her that she looked beautiful, she had dreamt of this day right from when she was a kid, marrying the love of her life, walking down the aisle with her father, having the biggest smile on her face but all of that has turned into a wishful dream now.

A gentle knock on the door pulled her out of her dreams of a perfect wedding, it was her father. She looked at him with empathy in her eyes but also remembering what Alex had told her two days ago, she didn't know if she should confront him or choose to believe her father's innocence.

"Mi hija" as he fondly called her "Are you sure you want to do this" He asked with his voice full of concerned and she could see tears gathering his eyes but it was too late to back out now, what would happen to her mother's legacy? To the company? To the employees? She had no choice.

"I'm fine, father." She replied, with the revelation tugging on her mind.

The door opened and it was Elena, "It's time" she said almost with no emotion but Isabella could see the smirk that formed by the corner of her mouth. Placing her veil, a long sheer and hauntingly delicate fabric on the bun, Isabella was ready to seal the next three hundred and sixty five days of her life with a man who has promised to break their hearts.

The doors to the cathedral was pushed open revealing a beautifully decorated church with her favorite flowers, white tulips and pink rose run from end to end of the each pew, she couldn't help but think of how Alexander may not really be the cold hearted man that he is trying so hard to portray.

Her arm interlocked in her father's arm, she started the walk towards the hell that her sister has passed down to her, standing there in his charcoal grey suit, fitted like a second skin, with a crisp white shirt underneath and a grey tie to match, his jaw line looking sharper than ever, his dark hair was styled to the back with a stubborn strand falling down his face, he definitely didn't look forty.

At the altar, Isabella kissed her father on the cheek and her hand was placed in that of Alexander, it was cold and firm, guiding her up the stairs to where the priest stood. Facing each other, she couldn't help but think of the moments they have shared together, the kisses they have exchanged, even if they said they were pretending, a part of her refused to believe that all he wanted was revenge but his eyes were cold and he showed no emotions, leaving her confused and wanting to ask if everything was okay.

"Let's begin", the priest said clearing his throat.

"Alexander Kane , do you take Isabella Martinez as your lawfully wedded wife, to hold and to love, till death do you part?"

After what seemed like a stretched silence, he responded "Yes, i do".

The priest continued facing Isabella, "Isabella Martinez, do you take Alexander Kane as your lawfully wedded husband, to love and to hold, till death do you part?

"Yes, i do" She responded knowing fully well she just signed a deal with the devil.

"You may now kiss the bride", the priest said like it was a rehearsed line repeated a thousand times now, Alexander placed his lips on hers in what seemed like a kiss, totally different from what they have shared the past two days.

The priest's voice echoed through the cathedral, solemn and unwavering, as he declared them husband and wife. Alexander's grip on Isabella's hand tightened, almost imperceptibly, as if he were staking his claim. The applause from the guests was polite, yet subdued, as though they too sensed the tension that hung in the air like a storm cloud.

As they turned to face the congregation, Isabella's gaze swept over the crowd. Her eyes landed on a figure at the back of the church, a man in a dark coat, his face partially obscured by the shadow of his hat. He was staring directly at her, his presence unsettling and oddly familiar. Isabella's breath hitched, but before she could process the moment, Alexander's hand guided her down the aisle.

The reception was a blur of forced smiles and hollow congratulations. Isabella felt like a marionette, her strings pulled by Alexander's calculated movements. He was charming, attentive, and utterly unreadable. Yet, every time their eyes met, she felt a chill run down her spine.

The evening air was crisp, laced with the scent of tulips and roses as Isabella stood beside Alexander, watching as the last of the guests filtered out of the reception hall. The polite smiles, the hollow congratulations, it all felt like an illusion, a performance played out for the world. But beneath the surface, beneath the vows spoken at the altar, there was nothing but tension between them.

She stole a glance at him, expecting indifference, but instead found something far more dangerous—conflicted restraint. His jaw was tight, his shoulders rigid, as though every fiber of his being was fighting against something unseen.

"Is there a point to this silence and coldness?" Isabella finally asked, unable to bear the suffocating distance between them.

Alexander barely spared her a glance. "I don't owe you conversation."

She flinched at the coldness in his tone. "You married me, yet you look at me like I'm the enemy." This wasn't how she wanted her wedding to go even though they were getting married on a contract.

His lips curled in something that wasn’t quite a smile. "Because you are."

The words cut deeper than they should have. It wasn’t the first time he had reminded her that this marriage was born out of necessity, not love. Not desire. Just cold, calculated revenge.

Yet there were moments—brief, fleeting seconds—when she saw something else. When his fingers lingered just a bit too long on her waist, when his eyes darkened with something unspoken.

But then, just as quickly, he would pull away.

Before she could respond, a sudden crash echoed from inside the house, shattering the tense silence between them. Isabella’s heart jumped as Alexander’s hand instinctively grasped her wrist.

They rushed inside.

The reception area was in chaos. And at the center of the disturbance stood a man—a man Isabella hadn’t seen in person but have heard of and seen pictures of.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Marcus.

Alexander’s older brother. The brother who had supposedly died years ago.

Alexander went rigid beside her, his grip tightening on her wrist like an anchor. His face, normally unreadable, flickered with something raw, shock, fury, disbelief.

"Impossible," Alexander muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Marcus smirked, tilting his head slightly as he took a slow step forward. "It’s been a while, brother."

Isabella glanced at Alexander, waiting for his reaction, for some sign that he understood what was happening. But his expression remained dark, unreadable.

"You’re supposed to be dead," Alexander finally said, his voice low and lethal.

Marcus laughed softly. "And yet, here I stand."

Isabella swallowed hard, her pulse racing as she turned to Alexander. She expected him to lash out, to run to him, hugging him, to demand answers, but instead, he did the one thing she wasn’t prepared for.

He let go of her hand.

Stepped away.

And his cold, unforgiving gaze returned.

It was in that moment Isabella knew—this marriage was never meant to survive. Because Alexander was fighting his own war, one that had nothing to do with her, yet everything to do with why he refused to let himself fall.

Even as the walls around them crumbled, even as his past came back to haunt him, Alexander’s grip on his revenge remained ironclad.

And she?

She was just collateral damage.