The air inside the grand cathedral was thick with the scent of roses and secrets.
Elena Greyson stood at the altar, her fingers trembling inside her lace gloves. The crowd behind her held their breath as she stared up at the man she was about to marry — Lucas Hart, billionaire heir, media darling, and the coldest pair of eyes she had ever seen.
His gaze locked on hers, but it wasn't the kind of gaze a groom gave his bride.
It was the way a predator watched a trap snap shut.
He lifted the corner of his mouth in what the crowd mistook for a smile.
She knew better.
"Elena Greyson," the priest began, "do you take this man..."
A flicker of something passed through Lucas's eyes. Triumph.
Danger.
"...to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
Elena's throat was dry, her voice barely a whisper. "I do."
A lie. A necessary one.
She had convinced herself this was love or something close to it. After all, Lucas had said the right things. Done the grand gestures. Sent the flowers. Whispered the promises.
But now, as the vows were exchanged and the ring slipped onto her finger, Elena couldn't shake the chill that had crept beneath her skin.
It was like the church itself was warning her.
Run.
But it was too late.
The priest turned to Lucas. "Do you, Lucas Hart, take Elena Greyson..."
"I do," Lucas interrupted smoothly, but his hand gripped hers just a little too tight, like he was claiming her or branding her.
You're mine, his touch said.
The kiss that followed wasn't romantic. It was a performance. One he delivered flawlessly. But in that moment, Elena felt something shatter behind his lips not her heart, but her illusions.
He held her close for the cameras, whispering something no one else could hear.
"Welcome to hell, Mrs. Hart."
********
Later That Night
The reception was a blur of lights, music, and distant laughter.
Elena smiled through every photo, every toast, every lie.
Lucas never left her side, but he also never looked at her with anything resembling affection. His words were polite. His touches cold. And when she slipped away to the balcony to catch her breath, he followed.
"Quite the fairy tale, isn't it?" he said from behind her, his tone mocking.
Elena turned, startled. "Why are you acting like this?"
His face changed the charming mask slipped, revealing something sharp beneath. "I'm not acting. This is me. You've just never seen it before."
"This isn't the man I agreed to marry," she said, voice trembling.
"No," he said, taking a step closer. "The man you agreed to marry died the moment you said yes. I did what I had to do to get you here, Elena. And now, I don't have to pretend anymore."
Her chest tightened. "Why? Why would you..."
"Because your father destroyed mine."
Elena's world tilted.
"What are you talking about?"
Lucas leaned in close, voice low and venomous. "You'll figure it out. Eventually. In the meantime... play the part. Smile. Be the perfect wife. Or things will get very ugly, very fast."
He turned to walk away, then paused.
"Oh, and one more thing..." He looked over his shoulder, eyes dead. "Don't even think about leaving. I've locked every door you think you can escape through."
Elena stood frozen as he disappeared into the crowd.
The fairy tale was over.
She was married.
But not to a man.
To a monster.