Chapter 1: Forced by a Promise

[Juliette’s POV]

“They’re ready for you, Miss Lux,” a polite voice pierced through.

I blinked. And just like that, with the click of the closed door, the bubble burst. Everything vanished into thin air—my past, my dreams, my future. Nothing remained, except the silhouette in the mirror. It surfaced, growing vividly and sharper until a woman stood before me, her purple sapphire eyes observing me with an empty look. I heaved a silent, despondent sigh at her, and the woman’s breasts rose and fell with the same despair. 

I traced the slender curves of her exquisite white gown, going through every stitch and sparkle, every contour of the sheer tulle overlay. By the time I reached that massive Mikado silk cascading off her waist, a huge ball of hotness had burned the back of my eyes and nose. 

Hastily, I sucked in my deepest to push back the heat of grief and lock up the tears. 

No matter what happens, a deep voice of wisdom echoed in my ears, don't show it, Juliette; don't ever let them see what's inside you; don't hand them the chips to make the right deal. 

Papa… my heart called out to my father. Staring at the beautiful dress in the mirror, memories of another past conversation flooded my mind….

We were talking about my future wedding, and I decided that I’d wear the Miracle Dress for the ceremony. It was the best number of my favourite designer, so I'd wear only that. The daughter of the richest man should wear the world’s most expensive wedding gown on her big day, I remember saying. 

Papa laughed his hearty laugh, patted my cheek, and promised that I'll get my wish when that day comes….

Today is that day. I'm getting married, and I'm in the Miracle Dress. My wish has finally come true. I should be happy, right? 

Something sour and rancid shot up from my stomach. Urgh! My eyes widened in panic. I'm going to throw up! Hastily, I gripped my hands into the tightest fists, biting my nails into my palms to let the pain distract me. 

It worked—the sharp pain diffused the time bomb in my throat. I swallowed hard to uselessly force down that monstrous lump so I could breathe a little more easily. 

You will not throw up now, Juliette, I told myself. You’ve had enough humiliation from yesterday—a lifetime's worth of shame—you do not need more. 

Cautiously, I inhaled a deep breath to comfort the storm inside me. And a silky voice—that sounded like my mother's—echoed in my head. Keep your chin high, Julie. And, automatically, the tip of my nose came up to that precise level of grace I was taught since I was four. 

I shot a satisfied look at my reflection in the mirror. Yes, mother, I replied in my head. 

And the woman in the mirror nodded back with a newfound determination. Go marry that son of a bitch, Juliette Lux—her expression seemed to read. Go do what you’ve promised, like a true Lux. 

“What are you waiting for?” A voice asked crisply. 

         My eyes shot up at the other person in the mirror: the housekeeper of the Virtus household—a stern woman with the strictest hair-bun I've ever seen on a woman's head, and the fashion sense of a nun. She was staring ahead, trying her best to ignore me. 

Since we were alone in the room, that rude tone must have been hers. She's old enough to be my grandma, yet she’s acting like a pubescent nymph. A snigger of contempt slipped through my lips. 

Immediately, those hawkish eyes swung at me with a half-effort murderous glare. 

I scoffed inwardly. Does she think I'd be scared of that ? If it weren’t for that damn contract, I would’ve already pulled that stupid bun off her scalp! 

The contract. The thought of it makes my blood boil with disgrace. A surge of energy rushed up my back, and I glared intensely back at her in the mirror, piercing through those harmless, hostile irises. 

Mustering my best snobbish tone, one that I reserved for bitches like her, I said, “I’m waiting for you, of course. I heard you're very good at your job." I rolled my eyeballs down to the corner of the mirror, pointing out her 'job': the long train of my dress, spilled across the floor like a huge puddle of gold and white candy floss.  

She didn’t have to follow my gaze. The way she pursed her prune lips already betrayed her thoughts: I know what you mean, but I don’t serve you. 

Well, I wouldn’t serve me if I were she. She serves the Virtus family, so naturally she bears their grudge towards my family—and by extension, me. 

But I carry my family's grudge too. And I’ve had enough of her master's evil schemes and condescending treatment, so I won’t let his servants bully me. 

After all, I’m STILL the head of the Lux family, CEO of the Lux Corporation. 

Calmly, I brushed the invisible lint off my white silk gloves, then looked up with a face that says: I will not move until someone fetches the train, period. And I waited with the stillness of a rock. 

If nun warrior, here, remembered her assignment, she'd know that if I was late for the ceremony, we'd both be in trouble; and her master—the one she and her kind affectionately called 'The Devil'—is well known for his creative punishments. Well, I’m already in hell so I've got nothing to lose, but I can't say the same about her.

As if reading my mind, a repugnant ‘Humph!’ exploded from behind me, and then a pair of heels clicked angrily towards me. Seeing me unfazed, she grew more furious, and a trail of resentful grumbling followed as she stooped down to grab the thick and huge fabric off the floor. 

I didn't mind that she was rough with the dress; her expected response was enough to make my day. When she stood again, hugging an enormous cloud of fabric, looking like she was slapped on the face, I felt ready for anything—even the nightmare ahead. 

Flashing a victorious smile at her scowl, I picked the front of my dress and padded with ease across the carpet to the exit of the holding room.

After a dimly lit corridor, I arrived outside the main hall. The wedding planner was unusually excited to see me. 

“Miss Juliette!” Her arms jiggled as she waved frantically. 

I greeted her with a polite smile as I continued moving steadily towards her. 

She dashed forward to meet me halfway. “You're finally here!” She managed to squeeze out between her heavy gasps. Though she was smiling with relief, her eyes were condemning my sense of time. 

She grabbed my elbow and swirled me to the door, as if I needed that extra push, and explained in a rush, “My assistant was sent to bring you here, but she came back alone,” and she shot a glare at the timid girl holding onto the door handle, and the poor girl repeatedly nod her head in frantic apology. 

Oh, so there is someone to help with the train, I thought guiltily, and turned sideways to check on the housekeeper. 

She was struggling to wipe the side of her head with her elbow. I almost want to tell her to let go of the baggage in her hand when I stop myself.  

Don’t fall for it! The voice in my head lectured. They bite to kill! They can’t be trusted! 

Pushing down the guilt, I swivelled back to the beaming woman. “Oh dear!” I gasped apologetically, battering my lashes innocently. “I'm not late, am I?”

“Oh no, no, no!” She waved both hands this time, and then widened her smile to prove it. “You’re just in time!” 

A sneering snort jabbed the air from behind me.  

The wedding planner froze in her smile. She turned to fire another scowl at her surprised assistant until I chuckled lightly. 

“Oh my,” I cried, covering my smirk to fake an apology on behalf of nun warrior, as though I was her master. “I am terribly sorry for that… ugly sound.” 

I thrust a thumb behind me and leaned forward, pretending to whisper into the wedding planner’s ear, and said bluntly in a normal tone, “She’s got a poor stomach. So the farts won’t stop coming.” 

At that, I heard the sound of fabric hitting the floor. We both turned and saw nun warrior circling the pool of fabric, coming for me with a death stare. “You cheap slut—-.”

Ignoring her flying curses, I shoved myself forward, and the door to the main hall burst open, belching a wind of sweet fragrance and stale tension. Leaving behind the wedding planner’s strong gasp of shock and dismay, I entered my performance arena, and, instantly, the wedding march song shook the air around me—my cue to walk the aisle.  

Suddenly, tension slammed into me like a freight train, fear gripped my limbs. I went cold, and a desperate plea sounded in my head: I don’t want this; I don’t want to be the wife of a Mafia King. What would become of me? 

My feet shuffled backwards, and the screams in my head grew louder. Papa! Save me! I know you didn't sign the contract! This must be a nightmare! Let me wake up! 

A familiar pressure printed on my back. Desperate, I swivelled around, letting go of all my resistance. Papa? I cried out in silence. 

The wedding planner gave me an encouraging nod. Go, she mouthed, with a cold gaze of exasperation.  

I shook my head at her, but she wouldn’t take it, and gave me a push, which was harder than the first, sending me forward in a clumsy lunge. 

If it weren't for my training, I'd fall with yet another humiliation. Swiftly, I regained balance and stepped towards a fierce looking Virtus. He would take my father's place to walk me down the aisle. I ignored his glower and peacefully took his arm. Shaking my loose curls to shake off the cold feet, I lifted the tip of my nose and stepped forward. 

My heels sank nicely into the plush carpet as I moved with effortless elegance down the path that sliced the sea of strangers—my prowling enemies.

Don’t look at them, I reminded myself. You’ll fall on your face and their prayers will come true. Keep your eyes ahead and focus on that huge cross on the wall. 

But a pull—stronger than anything in the hall—drew me in. Someone at the altar—a man in a pristine midnight blue tuxedo. 

He stood out almost instantly, by his towering stature and athletic physique. He was the meanest of the forbidding crowd guarding the altar; God knows why he needed a bodyguard in the first place, since he could actually fight them all at once and win.

Ralph Virtus. My soon-to-be husband. The Mafia King—and called by many as 'The Devil'. Even with both hands relaxed at his sides, I could tell that he's the kind of leader who's used to taking what he wants. 

The kind of man who knew exactly the strings to pull, places to touch, to unlock the stirrings of your heart until you burn for him. The kind of guy who’d be irresistible to a woman's deepest desires. 

Shyness burned my cheeks. How could he have gotten more handsome overnight? I thought and felt my lips parted slightly, as though he was right in front of me, and I was ready to be kissed. 

Goddamn it. I’m truly in hell.