AMARA POV
The morning air felt heavy, almost too still.
I stood by my apartment window, watching the sunlight crawl lazily over the buildings. It should have been a normal day — coffee, work, maybe a quiet evening — but nothing in my life was normal anymore.
In two days, I'd be married.
The thought alone made my chest ache. I tried not to think about it, but my trembling hands betrayed me. My phone buzzed against the table, breaking the silence.
A message.
"I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Be ready."
— Alexander.
Just his name on my screen was enough to send my stomach twisting into knots.
I wore something simple — a cream blouse and long skirt — nothing that screamed wealth or elegance, just me. But as I looked at myself in the mirror, I wondered if that "me" would even exist after this marriage.
A loud knock echoed through the apartment. I hesitated before opening the door.
He stood there — tall, sharp, dressed in a dark suit that made his presence impossible to ignore. Alexander Voss.
Behind him, his car waited, sleek and black — like everything about him.
"Morning," I managed, my voice softer than I intended.
He gave a small nod, his expression unreadable. "Are you ready?"
"As I'll ever be."
He turned and started walking, expecting me to follow. Typical.
The ride was silent. The air between us was thick, laced with tension neither of us dared to break. I could hear the faint ticking of the car's clock, each second a reminder that I was running out of time to change my mind — not that I had a choice.
"Where are we going?" I asked quietly, staring out the tinted window.
"The designer's," he replied, eyes fixed ahead. "We'll do the final fitting today. Then we stop by the jeweler's for the ring selection. After that, the planner will show you the venue details."
His tone was efficient. Cold. As if he were listing items off a company agenda.
I forced a smile that didn't reach my eyes. "You make it sound so romantic."
He didn't even flinch. "It's not supposed to be."
That shut me up.
The rest of the drive was painfully quiet. Occasionally, he'd check his phone or glance out the window, completely composed. Meanwhile, my heart was doing somersaults.
When we arrived, the butler opened the car door for me, and I stepped out, clutching my purse like it was the only stable thing left in my life.
The boutique was breathtaking — marble floors, golden chandeliers, and gowns that looked like they were spun from dreams. Everything screamed luxury. Everything screamed his world, not mine.
The designer — a petite woman with red lipstick and kind eyes — greeted us warmly. "Mr. Voss, Miss Stone. Welcome. The gown is ready for final adjustments."
Alexander gave her a curt nod and followed us in.
Inside the fitting room, I changed into the gown.
It fit perfectly — too perfectly. The lace hugged every curve of my body, delicate yet suffocating. I stared at my reflection, trying to find excitement, joy, anything. But all I saw was fear.
When I stepped out, Alexander was seated on a velvet chair, his long legs crossed, looking like a king waiting to judge his subject. His eyes lifted when he saw me.
For a moment — just a brief flicker — his gaze softened. Then it was gone.
"Well?" the designer asked, beaming. "What do you think, Mr. Voss?"
He stood up slowly, walking around me like he was assessing a sculpture. "It's… fine."
Fine.
The word hit me harder than I expected.
The designer looked uncertain but smiled politely. "Shall we try the veil next?"
I nodded, barely breathing. She placed the veil over my head, and when I looked at myself again, tears pricked my eyes.
I looked like a bride.
But not one walking into love — one walking into a deal.
The designer excused herself for a moment, leaving us alone.
Alexander's reflection stood behind mine in the mirror. His presence was overwhelming, not physically, but emotionally.
"Why do you look like someone just told you your sentence?" he said quietly.
I turned around to face him. "Because that's what this feels like."
He didn't respond. His jaw tightened slightly.
"You really don't care, do you?" I asked, voice trembling. "This is all just… business to you."
He looked down at me, expression blank. "You knew what this was when you signed."
My heart cracked a little. "You think that makes it hurt less?"
For a moment, silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating.
Then he spoke again, low and calm. "Pain is optional. Weakness isn't."
I blinked back tears. "You talk like you've never felt either."
He didn't answer. He didn't have to. His silence was an answer.
The designer returned, chirping about accessories and makeup looks. I nodded along numbly, but my mind was far away — back to the girl I used to be, the one who dreamed of love and freedom.
After the fitting, we went to the jeweler's. Rows of diamond rings sparkled under the lights. I didn't even reach for them. He did.
He chose one — a simple band with a single diamond. Elegant, cold, perfect. Just like him.
"It's beautiful," I said quietly.
He didn't look up. "It's practical."
Later, the planner discussed shoes, flowers, and color palettes, but I barely listened. My head throbbed, my heart heavier than ever.
By the time we got back to the car, the sun was setting.
As we sat in silence, I couldn't hold it anymore.
"Why me?" I asked softly. "Out of all the women you could've chosen — why me?"
He turned to face me, his eyes like winter. "Because you were available."
That broke me.
I turned away, biting my lip until I tasted blood, refusing to cry in front of him.
The rest of the ride was silent. Not the peaceful kind — the kind that screams.
When he dropped me off, he didn't say goodbye. Just a nod, and he was gone.
I stood there on the pavement long after the car disappeared. The streetlights flickered above me, casting my shadow long and thin against the ground.
And for the first time, I wondered if there would be anything left of me by the time this marriage was over.