Wedding Night Betrayal: A Five-Year War

t me in a room with his best friend. That single act of betraya

shattering my family' s name. Dorian accused me of orchestrati

had my father imprisoned on false charges and my

te mental breakdown. The last time I saw her, sh

n us!" she shrieked. "Go

to record my humiliation, I finally decided to obey my mother's wish. I swallowed the pil

pte

a Mcn

al ignited a war that would ultimately consume us all. I was Ariana Mcneil, a name synonymous with D.C. influence, daughter of a powerful political dynasty. Dorian, a brilliant

an, his muscles straining against his tailored suit, his eyes dark with predatory intent. Panic seized my throat, a silent scream trapped behind my lips. I thrashed, my limbs heavy and useless. He pinned my wrists above my head with one hand,

e me, circulated online. It showed me in a compromising position with Blake, shatterin

f cold fury, his eyes devoid of any warmth I might have once imagined. He saw the

d, his voice flat, devoid of emotion.

his shadow falling

ily," he continued, his words like ic

t a raw wound. I did not speak. There was no point. His eyes held only hatred. I turned my back on him. I f

imprisoned on trumped-up charges. My older brother, James, a rising star in the military, died in a "training accident" overseas, a casualty I knew, in my gut, Dorian had a hand in. My mother, Frances Montoya, a woman of g

ases, discredited him in the media, and created legal obstacles at every turn. He faced public humiliation, formal investigations, and stalled promotions. There were mo

both. Our marriage was a battlefield, our home a cage. My love for him, a secret I had cherished

, her hair disheveled. She sat in a sterile room at the institution, staring blankly ahead.

rse and broken. "You provoked him!

angry red marks. Her words cut

screamed, her eyes wide with mad

me, wishing me dead. The will to live drained from me completely. I had hidden a small, potent bottle of pills for months. I reached into my pocket,

lled me into the bedroom, his eyes blazing. He shoved me onto the bed, then leaned over me, his lips assaulting mine. His kiss was brutal, tasting of aggression and resentment. I felt the

ightly, his eyes

is voice low and contemptuous. "Still trying to m

othing, only a profound weariness. My eyes welled up, but he did no

a. Just submit

ed him. He paused, his brow furrowed in confusio

ked, his voice laced with sus

manipulation. He still saw me only as a r

angerously soft. "The night you brought shame to us all.

I felt a wave of nausea, the other woman's pe

y had often appeared, seemingly by chance, at critical moments during our war, her innocent expressions and tearful accusations always turning Dorian

barely a whisper, flat and devoid of emotio

him. He grabbed my

yr?" he scoffed. "Still trying to manip

He tossed a small velvet box onto the bed. It stru

der this your compensation. A new title

box lay beside me, a

hardening. "You too. You had a chance to accept your fate, but you ch

nd him, the sound echoin

ords rang in my ears: "Go die, Ariana!" I looked at the bottle, then at the window where twilight painted the sky in somb