Forced Marriage I Married The Prince

It was a bitter, overcast day, the kind where the wind felt sharper, and the sky hovered close enough to make breathing feel like a chore. Lily Hart adjusted the delicate lace trim of her wedding gown, hands trembling as she watched her reflection in the grand mirror of the bridal suite. The dress was flawless, a masterpiece of silk and pearls, chosen by her father himself-of course, without her say. It clung in all the right places, radiating an elegance that felt more like a cage than a celebration.

"Are you nervous?" came a voice behind her. Lily looked over to see her best friend, Eliza, who stood with an expression as pale as her own. She was fidgeting with the hem of her dress, looking as if she'd bolt from the room if she could.

"Nervous?" Lily forced a smile, though it tasted bitter. "What's there to be nervous about? I'm just... signing my life away."

Eliza's mouth twitched with sympathy. She walked over and took Lily's hand, squeezing it tight. "I don't know why you're doing this. You don't have to, Lily."

But they both knew that wasn't true. Lily was doing this because her father had forced her hand, because he'd made promises to the infamous Adrian Blackwood, the dark-eyed CEO with a reputation as sharp as his suits. The kind of man who, in another life, she might have avoided, a man who haunted high society with a presence that was felt more than welcomed. He was cold, calculating, and, from the few times she'd encountered him, utterly dismissive of her.

And now she was marrying him.

"Dad would never forgive me if I didn't go through with this." Lily's voice came out softer than she intended, almost a whisper. Her father had made it clear that her worth was tied to her obedience, and to defy him would mean more than just disinheritance; it would mean exile from everything and everyone she'd known.

The sound of the door creaking open caught her attention. A man dressed in sleek black entered, clearing his throat. "Miss Hart, it's time."

Lily's heart sank. She wasn't ready. Every fiber of her being screamed to run, to grab Eliza's hand and flee into the city. But her feet felt rooted to the floor. The weight of duty, of family expectation, pressed her forward.

With a final look at her friend, she nodded. Eliza gave her a supportive smile, but Lily could see the worry in her friend's eyes. She was as scared as Lily was.

The aisle stretched out like an endless road, lined with faces she barely recognized, guests brought in by her father's influence, business allies, and people who would whisper about her lack of power and the fact that she, Lily Hart, was just another pawn in a bigger game.

As she took one step after another, her gaze fell upon Adrian, who waited at the end of the aisle with a gaze that looked as cold as stone. His eyes met hers, unreadable, his jaw clenched. He didn't smile, didn't nod. He merely waited, as though he was as impatient to get this over with as she was.

When she finally reached him, his hand reached out for hers, firm and unyielding. His touch was cold, almost lifeless. She shivered at the contact, but he didn't notice-or perhaps didn't care. As they turned to face the officiant, Adrian leaned slightly toward her, his voice a low whisper meant only for her ears.

"Don't think this changes anything. You're only here because I needed to secure your father's company."

Her breath caught, but she quickly steadied herself. She glanced up at him, her voice barely a murmur. "And you think I want this? I didn't have a choice."

His expression didn't change. "Neither did I."

The words stung more than she expected. Of course he didn't want her-he already had someone else, someone he actually cared about. Celeste. The woman with piercing beauty and a confidence that radiated, a woman who already held his heart. And now, in some twisted irony, Lily was to be his wife, while Celeste remained in the shadows, a mistress with far more power over him than Lily would ever possess.

The officiant's voice droned on, but her mind was elsewhere. Her life as she knew it was over. Whatever dreams she'd once held, whatever hopes-those were all irrelevant now.

"You may kiss the bride," the officiant finally announced, his voice breaking through her daze.

Lily turned to Adrian, her lips slightly parted, waiting, tense. His face betrayed nothing, but he leaned in with the precision of someone performing a transaction rather than sharing a moment. His lips brushed hers-cool, controlled, devoid of affection. The kiss was fleeting, almost a ghost of a touch, and it left her feeling even colder than before.

As they turned to face the crowd, the applause washed over her like a distant wave. She felt Adrian's hand tighten on hers, as though he was reminding her, staking a claim. She was his now, no matter how little he actually wanted her.

The reception that followed was a blur of forced smiles and hollow toasts. People fawned over her dress, her beauty, the "lucky" union she had landed. She laughed when she was expected to, smiled until her cheeks hurt, and exchanged empty words with strangers congratulating her on what was, in reality, a slow descent into captivity.