012

Elara Kings

The wedding had been settled, along with the arrangements—none of which I took part in.

A day was set, a venue was fixed, and even my dress was picked out—although I had to get measured for that one. Otherwise, I stayed out of everything else. That was my last show of pride.

I would not help prepare for a wedding that I was forced to be a part of.

That did not stall the progress, however, and the days seemed to pass by more quickly than I expected.

Now, as I stood before the large full-length mirrors in the hotel room, examining myself in the wedding dress, I knew there was no way I would be getting out of this.

“Fucking Blackbourne brothers.”

The door creaked open behind me, accompanied by a voice to grab my attention.

“Miss, the ceremony is starting.”

My eyes narrowed into a sharp glare at the planner as she approached me, stopping in her tracks immediately.

It didn’t take a genius to realize that I was displeased with the wedding.

But I took a deep breath, swallowing my anger and wearing a fake smile, which I directed at the woman.

Not because I felt bad or anything.

But because I knew the things that were at stake if I messed this up, either for me or for the two brothers.

As much as I detested my current circumstances, I would rather not spend the end of the day behind bars.

So I turned to the woman with a faux light tone, my eyes crinkling at the sides with a practiced smile.

 “Thank you, would you show me the way?”

Her brows furrowed for a moment before she regained her composure. “Ah, yes. Let's go.”

I ignored my reflection in the mirror because I didn’t want to think about the heavy dress any longer, even though I knew it would pay off all my debts.

My intrusive thoughts crept in as I considered running off in the dress and the diamond jewelry.

I could run off, sell the expensive dress and accessories,  clear my debts, and flee the country. It sounded tempting, and I actually entertained the thought for a second.

But I knew that a handcuff would be snapped on my wrist faster than I could blink, so I dismissed the thoughts with a shake of my head.

“Lovely, lead the way,” I said to the woman who had been patiently waiting.

The moment we stepped out of the room, the act began.

I wore the brightest smile I had ever had in my life, my steps hitting the linoleum floor lightly as though I wasn’t about to crumble under the weight of this heavy dress.

As we neared the chapel doors, my smile threatened to fall.

There he was—Cassian Blackbourne, waiting at the doorway to walk me in.

“Thank you, I will take it from here,” he waved off the attendant with that charming smile I had first associated him with. I knew now the cruelty that hid behind that smile.

“You clean up nicer than I expected. Just don’t grow a conscience at the altar, yeah?” he said with the same smile, stretching out his arm for me to take.

I did not miss the threat underneath and knew the hidden meaning behind his words.

Fuck this up and you’ll end up behind bars.

“Let’s just get this done and over with,” I gritted out, taking his arm and maintaining my faux smile.

The chapel doors opened with a slow creak, and I didn’t look up. I didn’t want to meet the eyes of strangers who were only here to witness a pretty show. A fake union dressed up with flowers and pearls.

Cassian’s grip tightened slightly as we walked forward, his steps calm like he’d done this a hundred times. Mine were stiff. The dress was heavy, the silence heavier.

And then I saw him.

My husband-to-be;

Xander Blackbourne.

Seated at the altar in that sleek black wheelchair, his hands resting neatly in his lap, head slightly tilted up, like he already knew I was here. His face was unreadable, eyes empty—blind—but somehow still haunting.

My stomach twisted.

He looked like a groom and this moment belonged to him. But it didn’t belong to either of us.

Cassian leaned in just slightly, voice low near my ear. “No theatrics. Smile.”

I forced it.

A brittle curve of my lips that didn’t reach my eyes.

When we reached the altar, Cassian stepped aside. My hand dropped to my side, trembling slightly before I curled it into a fist. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want any of this.

The priest began the ceremony, but I wasn’t really listening. His words blended into a soft hum. Something about unity. Trust. Lifelong devotion.

I almost scoffed.

Then it was my turn.

“Do you, Evelyn Rose, take Xander Blackbourne—”

“I do,” I cut in, voice flat, the smile still frozen on my face.

A pause.

“Do you, Xander Blackbourne, take Evelyn Rose to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

There was a beat of silence. My heart thumped.

“Yes.” His voice was even. Calm. As though he’d been waiting for this moment.

I stared straight ahead.

“Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

The words landed like a death sentence.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

I turned slightly, forcing myself to face him. Xander raised his hand slowly, reaching out with practiced precision. His fingers brushed my cheek, just enough to guide me closer.

The kiss was nothing more than a brush of lips. Cold. Mechanical.

Like a signature on a contract.

He pulled away first, and I didn’t move.

“Face the guests,” the priest prompted.

Xander turned his chair slowly, and I matched his pace, my hand slipping into his. It felt rehearsed. Forced.

The moment we turned toward the crowd, I pasted the brightest smile I could muster on my face.

The show had only just begun.