The heavy wedding dress weighed on Ella like a sentence.
She stood in the dim dressing room, staring at her pale reflection in the mirror. Her long hair was neatly combed back, and her delicate features were softened by light makeup, but there was no joy in her eyes—only numbness, and a deep, sinking despair.
Today was her wedding day. But she was not marrying for love. She was marrying to save her father's crumbling company.
"Stop moping. You should be grateful," her stepmother, Mrs. Tan, snapped from the doorway, her voice sharp with disdain. "Marrying into the Lucian family is a blessing you could never dream of. Even if your husband is blind, he's still the sole heir to one of the wealthiest families in the country."
Ella's fingers tightened around the lace of her dress. She knew the truth all too well. The entire upper class whispered about Lucian: the handsome, reclusive heir who had lost his sight in an accident years ago. He was rumored to be cold, withdrawn, and undesirable. No prominent family was willing to marry their daughter to him.
But to Ella, he was her last hope.
Her father's business was on the edge of collapse. Creditors were knocking at the door, and the family was days away from losing everything. The Lucian family had offered a way out: a marriage between Ella and Lucian. In exchange, the Lucians would pay off all the family's debts and save the company.
It was not love. It was a transaction.
"Lina could have married a real wealthy man," Mrs. Tan went on. "But we sacrificed you instead. You'd better obey your husband and make yourself useful. Otherwise, you'll be thrown back to us, and we'll leave you to starve."
Ella said nothing. She had long stopped arguing with her stepmother. Since her mother died, she had been nothing but a burden, a servant, and a tool to be traded away at will.
The door opened, and a servant stepped in politely. "Miss Ella, it's time. The ceremony is ready."
With her heart heavy, Ella walked slowly down the long, flower-lined corridor. The mansion of the Lucian family was grand beyond imagination—marble floors, crystal chandeliers, high ceilings, and silent servants who bowed as she passed. It was a world of wealth she had never known, but it felt like a gilded cage.
At the end of the corridor stood the man she was going to marry.
Lucian leaned lightly on a walking cane, his tall frame straight and dignified despite his blindness. He wore a perfectly tailored black suit, his broad shoulders and narrow waist making him look effortlessly elegant. His face was sculpted like a piece of fine art—sharp jawline, high nose bridge, pale skin, and thick, dark lashes. The only thing out of the ordinary was the soft white blindfold covering his eyes.
Even blind, he was breathtakingly beautiful.
Ella's breath caught for a second. She had seen photos of him before, but in person, he was far more striking. There was a quiet, unshakable power about him, as if even without sight, he controlled every corner of the room.
The ceremony was short and silent. No guests laughed, no one wiped happy tears. It was a formal, cold exchange of vows. When the priest asked if she would take Lucian as her husband, Ella whispered "I do" almost soundlessly.
Lucian's voice was low and calm, without a single tremor. "I do."
And just like that, she became his wife.
After the ceremony, the servants led Ella to the spacious, luxurious bedroom that she would share with her new husband. The room was decorated in soft, neutral tones, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a quiet garden. It was beautiful, but it felt foreign.
She stood nervously by the bed, unsure of what to do. She had heard terrible stories—blind men were often irritable, bitter, or even cruel. She braced herself for a cold, or even hostile, reception.
The door opened again. Lucian walked in, alone.
He removed his suit jacket and placed it neatly on a chair, his movements precise and graceful, as if he could see perfectly. He turned his face toward her, and even though his eyes were covered, Ella felt as if he was looking straight into her soul.
"You must be tired," he said softly. His voice was gentle, like warm water on cold skin. It was nothing like she had expected.
Ella lowered her eyes. "A little, sir."
He let out a faint, almost imperceptible chuckle. "There's no need to call me sir. We're married now. My name is Lucian."
He took a slow step toward her. Ella held her breath, her whole body stiff. But he stopped at a safe distance, not wanting to scare her.
"I know this marriage is not what you wanted," he said quietly, his tone sincere. "And I know you did it to save your father. I want you to know: you are safe here. No one will hurt you, no one will force you to do anything you don't want to do."
Ella lifted her head in shock. No one had ever spoken to her like this—with kindness, with respect. Not even her own family.
Tears stung her eyes unexpectedly.
Lucian seemed to sense her emotion. He reached out his hand, his fingers hovering gently near hers, not touching, just offering comfort.
"You don't have to be afraid," he repeated, his voice warm and steady. "This is your home now. Rest. I'll be in the study."
With that, he turned and walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind him.
Ella stood alone in the quiet bedroom, her heart still racing.
She had married a blind stranger to save her family. But in that brief moment, she felt a strange, unfamiliar feeling—hope.
Little did she know that the man she had just married was not helpless at all.
Beneath that blindfold, his eyes were clear, sharp, and wide open.
And he was the hidden richest man alive.