THE GOLDEN WEDDING
The wedding of Damien Ward and Amelia Ward was not a ceremony; it was a coronation.
Westbridge City came to a standstill. The press dubbed it the "Union of the Century," a romantic story of healing and destiny. The wealthy and powerful clamored for invitations.
But in the dressing room of the cathedral, Amelia felt a strange knot in her stomach.
She stood before the full-length mirror, staring at her reflection. The dress Damien had chosen for her was magnificent—a custom-made designer gown of silk and lace, encrusted with tiny crystals. It cost more than Amelia's college tuition.
But it was tight. The corset constricted her ribs, making it hard to take a full breath. The long sleeves hid her arms completely. The high neck felt like a chokehold.
"You look like a queen," Sophia, her best friend and maid of honor, said from the doorway. But Sophia's voice lacked its usual bubbly enthusiasm.
Amelia turned. "Do I? I feel… overwhelmed."
Sophia walked over, fixing Amelia's veil. "Amelia… are you sure about this? It's all happening so fast. He… he's intense, isn't he?"
Amelia frowned. "He loves me, Sophia. He's just protective. You know how much tragedy this family has seen."
"I know," Sophia hesitated. "It's just… when I tried to call you last week to plan the bachelorette party, Damien answered your phone. He said you were resting and didn't want to be disturbed. He wouldn't let me talk to you."
Amelia felt a flicker of unease but quickly pushed it down. "He was right. I was exhausted. He was just looking out for me."
Sophia didn't look convinced. "Just… be careful, okay? You're marrying the Iron Wolf. Don't let him eat you."
Before Amelia could respond, the door opened. Damien's personal assistant, a stern woman named Ms. Kray, stepped in.
"Mr. Ward is waiting," she said sharply. "It's time."
The ceremony was a blur of flashing lights and organ music. As Amelia walked down the aisle, hundreds of eyes watched her. But she only saw Damien.
He stood at the altar, looking devastatingly powerful in a black tuxedo. He wasn't smiling. He was watching her approach with a look of intense, burning focus. It felt less like a groom waiting for his bride and more like a collector waiting for his rarest acquisition.
When she reached him, he didn't take her hand gently. He gripped it.
The vows were traditional, but the way Damien said them sent a shiver through the congregation.
"To have and to hold," he said, his voice echoing in the silent cathedral. His eyes bored into hers. "To love and to keep."
He emphasized the word keep.
Amelia smiled nervously, her hand sweating in his tight grip.
"I do," she whispered.
When he kissed her, the crowd erupted in applause. Damien didn't let go of her waist. He guided her—steered her, really—down the aisle and into the waiting limousine.
The reception was held at the Ward Estate. It was an extravagant display of wealth. Champagne flowed like water. The orchestra played waltzes.
Amelia tried to go over to Sophia's table to say hello, but Damien's hand was instantly on the small of her back.
"Stay with me, darling," he murmured in her ear. "We have guests to greet. The Governor is waiting."
"I just wanted to say hi to Sophia," Amelia said.
"Sophia can wait," Damien's voice hardened slightly, though his smile for the cameras never wavered. "You are the hostess now. Your place is by my side."
Amelia swallowed her protest and nodded. "Okay."
Later, during their first dance, Damien pulled her close. The music was slow and romantic, but his words were anything but.
"Do you see them, Amelia?" he whispered, looking out at the hundreds of guests. "They all want you. They all envy me."
"They're just happy for us, Damien."
"No," he corrected. "They are jealous. Because I have the most beautiful thing in the city. And I am never letting you go."
He spun her around, his grip tightening on her ribs. The corset dug into her skin.
"You are my wife now," he said, his lips brushing her ear. "My property. My life. No one will ever touch you again. Not the press. Not your friends. Not even the memory of my brother."
Amelia pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes. They were dark, swirling with possessiveness that bordered on madness.
"Damien… you're hurting me," she whispered.
He immediately loosened his grip, his expression shifting back to the doting husband. "I'm sorry, my love. I just… I love you so much it hurts. I want to keep you safe from everything."
He kissed her forehead. "Forgive me?"
"Of course," Amelia said, resting her head on his chest.
She told herself it was passion. She told herself it was love born of trauma.
But as the night ended and the heavy oak doors of the Ward Estate closed, shutting out the world, Amelia felt a strange sensation.
The silence of the mansion didn't feel peaceful anymore.
It felt suffocating.
Damien locked the front door. The sound of the deadbolt sliding into place echoed loudly in the foyer.
He turned to her, loosening his tie, a slow smile spreading across his face.
"Finally," he said. "Home. Just you and me. Forever."
Amelia smiled back, but her hands were trembling.
The wedding was over.
The marriage had begun.
And the golden cage was locked.
Here are Chapter Five and Chapter Six of "ENSLAVED BY MY HUSBAND'S BROTHER."
The story now transitions from the "Romance" phase into the "Cage" phase. The golden bars are being set in place, one by one.