The velvet veil covering her face felt suffocating, just like the weight of betrayal crushing her heart. Amelia Quinn stood frozen in front of the grand doors of St. Marcus Cathedral, her trembling fingers clenching the hem of her white gown.
She never imagined her wedding day would come like this—unwanted, unplanned, and forced.
Behind her, two towering bodyguards blocked the exit. There was no way out. Her mother's voice still echoed in her ears from that morning: "You'll marry him, Amelia, or we're finished. Your father's debt won't disappear on its own."
Debt. That cursed word.
She had never even seen the man she was about to marry. All she knew was his name—Elias Blackwood, the enigmatic CEO of Blackwood Holdings. Ruthless, cold-blooded, and notoriously vengeful. And yet, somehow, her family thought selling her off to him was a brilliant solution.
The cathedral doors creaked open.
A soft gasp escaped her lips as the music started, and all eyes turned toward her. Rich guests lined the pews, dressed in designer suits and gowns, but their expressions ranged from boredom to curiosity. No one cared who she was. All they cared about was the groom.
At the far end of the aisle stood a tall man in a black tuxedo, his features sharp and unreadable, like carved obsidian. His cold gray eyes met hers across the distance.
Elias Blackwood.
Even from here, Amelia felt the chill of his gaze pierce through the layers of lace and silk.
She hesitated. Her feet wouldn't move.
The bodyguard behind her gave a subtle nudge.
And so, with shaky steps, Amelia walked toward a future she never agreed to.
The ceremony was a blur.
The priest spoke, the audience watched, and Elias said his vows like he was reading a business contract. When it was her turn, Amelia's lips trembled as she whispered, "I do," her voice barely audible.
There was no kiss.
No smile.
Just a cold glance and a ring slipped onto her finger—heavy, expensive, and suffocating.
As they walked down the aisle together, Amelia felt like she was walking beside a stranger… no, not a stranger. A predator.
In the limousine that whisked them away, silence stretched between them like a noose. Amelia couldn't help sneaking glances at him.
He was beautiful in the way dangerous things were—sharp cheekbones, stormy eyes, and lips that never curved into a smile.
"I didn't want this," she finally said, her voice quiet but steady.
Elias didn't look at her. "Neither did I."
"Then why agree?"
He turned his head slowly, eyes narrowing. "Because your father owed me, and I always collect."
Her breath caught.
She had guessed he might be using her as a pawn, but hearing it out loud stung deeper than she expected.
"So I'm a payment?" she whispered.
"Not quite," he replied, his voice smooth as ice. "You're collateral. I intend to make your father regret ever crossing me."
Amelia's hands curled into fists in her lap. She wanted to scream. To run. But where? Her mother had abandoned her to save face. Her father was missing. And now she belonged to a man who viewed her as nothing more than a tool of revenge.
That night, at the penthouse Elias called home, Amelia stood at the bedroom door, refusing to enter.
"I want a separate room," she said, arms crossed over her chest.
Elias removed his cufflinks with methodical indifference. "This isn't a honeymoon, Miss Quinn. I have no interest in pretending."
"Good," she snapped. "Because I wouldn't pretend to like you even if someone paid me."
A faint smirk tugged at his lips—mocking, amused, dangerous. "You've got a spine. I wonder how long it'll last."
With that, he walked into the room and shut the door in her face.
Amelia slept on the couch that night, tears soaking into the designer cushions. She hated herself for crying. Hated that her life had become a transaction. Hated that Elias Blackwood haunted her dreams even when she tried to push him away.
But the worst part?
She was hiding a secret.
A week ago, she had taken a test. Twice.
Both came back positive.
She was pregnant.