THE COOL WEDDING

Chapter 4: The Cold Wedding

Elena never thought she would dread her own wedding day, but here she was, standing in front of the mirror, feeling like a prisoner instead of a bride.

The white gown was breathtaking—delicate lace, intricate beadwork, a long flowing train. It was the kind of dress every girl dreamed of. But to Elena, it felt like a cage, trapping her in a life she never wanted.

Outside the luxurious bridal suite, the world was waiting. The guests, the media, and most of all, Damien Sterling—the man she was about to marry, not out of love, but out of obligation.

Her stomach twisted.

She had read romance novels where weddings were magical, where the bride’s heart pounded with excitement, where the groom looked at her like she was his whole world.

But this wasn’t a love story, This was a deal.

And in just a few minutes, it would be sealed forever.

A Wedding Without Love

The grand ballroom had been transformed into a scene straight out of a fairy tale. Flowers lined the aisle, soft music played in the background, and chandeliers cast a golden glow over the elegantly dressed guests.

It was perfect. Too perfect.

Because there was nothing real about it.

Elena stood at the entrance, gripping her bouquet so tightly that her knuckles turned white. She felt lightheaded, her legs weak, but there was no turning back.

Her father stood beside her, his expression unreadable. He was the reason she was here—the reason she was being forced into this marriage.

“Elena,” he murmured, his voice low. “You’re doing the right thing.”

She didn’t reply.

Because deep down, she wasn’t sure if this was right.

The doors opened, and all eyes turned to her.

A sea of strangers watched as she took her first step forward, walking toward the man who would become her husband.

Damien Sterling stood at the end of the aisle, tall and composed, his face as cold as ever. He didn’t smile. He didn’t look at her with love or admiration.

He was just… waiting.

Waiting to complete the transaction.

Elena swallowed hard. Each step felt heavier than the last, her breath shallow.

She should have been happy. A wedding was supposed to be a joyous occasion. But with each step, she felt like she was walking deeper into a prison she could never escape.

Finally, she reached the altar.

Damien didn’t offer his hand. He didn’t even look at her properly.

The officiant began speaking, but Elena barely heard the words. Her mind was spinning.

This is real,

This is happening.

When it was time for the vows, Damien spoke first. His voice was steady, businesslike, as if he were reading a contract instead of making a lifelong promise.

“I, Damien Sterling, take you, Elena Carter, to be my lawfully wedded wife.”

There was no emotion, no warmth.

Elena’s fingers trembled.

It was her turn.

She opened her mouth, but for a second, no words came out.

She felt the weight of Damien’s gaze, the weight of every person in the room waiting for her to speak.

“I… I take you, Damien Sterling, to be my lawfully wedded husband.”

The words tasted bitter.

When the rings were exchanged, Damien slid the band onto her finger without hesitation. His touch was firm, but there was nothing gentle about it.

Then came the final moment.

“You may kiss the bride,” the officiant announced.

Elena’s heart pounded.

Damien turned to her, his expression unreadable. Slowly, he leaned in—not out of affection, but because it was expected.

His lips brushed against hers for the briefest moment. It was cold, emotionless, over in an instant.

The guests erupted into applause, But inside, Elena felt numb.

A Reception for Appearances

The reception was grand, filled with the richest and most powerful people in the country.

Elena sat beside Damien at the head table, barely touching her food.

People came to congratulate them, offering smiles and praises, but Elena knew the truth.

They weren’t celebrating love, they were celebrating an alliance.

Victoria Sinclair, the woman from the engagement party, approached them with a smirk. “I must admit, Elena, you look stunning tonight. Though I do wonder… how does it feel to marry a man who sees marriage as just another business deal?”

Elena stiffened.

Before she could respond, Damien spoke. “Careful, Victoria. You wouldn’t want to insult my wife.”

His voice was calm, but there was an underlying warning.

Victoria held up her hands in mock surrender. “Of course not. I was just curious.”

She walked away, leaving Elena feeling exposed.

She turned to Damien, her voice low. “Why did you defend me?”

He sipped his wine, not looking at her. “Because no one insults what belongs to me.”

Her stomach twisted,

We , Belong to him?

She wasn’t a person to him. She was just a possession.

The Wedding Night

After the reception, they arrived at Damien’s mansion. It was grand, luxurious, and far too big for just the two of them.

The butler greeted them, bowing slightly. “Welcome home, Mr. and Mrs. Sterling.”

Elena flinched at the words.

Home.

But this wasn’t her home.

This was another gilded cage.

Damien led her inside, walking through the massive hallways until they reached a pair of double doors.

He pushed them open, revealing a bedroom larger than any she had ever seen. A massive bed sat in the center, the silk sheets perfectly arranged.

Elena’s heart pounded.

She turned to Damien, her hands clenched. “I know what you expect, but—”

He cut her off. “Relax.”

She frowned.

“I don’t expect anything from you,” he said simply. “Our marriage is a contract. You will have your own room.”

He gestured to another door across the hall.

Elena blinked. “You’re… serious?”

He nodded. “You’re free to live as you please, as long as you follow the rules.”

Rules.

Everything about this was so cold, so calculated.

Elena should have felt relieved. He wasn’t forcing intimacy on her.

But instead, she just felt… empty.

She was married, yet completely alone.

As Damien walked toward the door, he paused. “One more thing.”

She turned to him, waiting.

“There will be public events where we must act like a real couple,” he said. “You will smile. You will hold my hand. You will do whatever it takes to maintain the image.”

Elena swallowed hard.

“And when we’re alone?” she asked.

He met her gaze, his expression unreadable.

“When we’re alone, you’re free to hate me as much as you want.”

With that, he left, closing the door behind him.

Elena sat on the edge of the bed, her heart heavy.

This wasn’t a marriage.

It was a prison.

And no matter how beautiful the cage, she was still trapped inside.

though this was never what she intented for our future but she found herself in what never looked real