Ava’s POV
The grand wedding hall sparkled with wealth and power. Golden chandeliers hung like crowns from the ceiling, casting a warm glow on the marble floors. Rows of expensive floral arrangements lined the aisle, their sweet fragrance doing little to mask the sour tension in the air. Guests sat on either side, their eyes darting between the Carringtons and the Williamses like spectators waiting for a fight to break out.
From my seat in the bridal suite, I could hear the soft hum of the crowd. My fingers gripped the edge of my chair as I stared at my reflection. The woman in the mirror didn’t look like me. The girl staring back wore a gown fit for royalty — lace sleeves, a perfect bodice, and a train so long it could mop the entire floor behind me. My hair was curled into soft waves, a glittering tiara pinned in place like a crown.
I looked like the perfect bride.
Too perfect, I thought bitterly. The perfect pawn in a game I never asked to play.
My eyes shifted to the window. The world outside seemed so open, so free. It called to me like a silent invitation. Run, a voice in my head urged. You still have time. Just run. My heart thudded harder at the thought. If I ran now, I’d finally be free from them — the Carringtons, their rules, their lies.
Run, Ava. Run before it’s too late.
I glanced at the door. No one was watching me. I could make it if I moved fast enough. The thought made my fingers twitch. My gaze shifted back to the window, my breath quickening.
But reality hit me like a cold slap to the face. Where would you even go? I knew the answer. Nowhere. The Carringtons didn’t care about me, but they wouldn’t let me go. They’d hunt me down, not because they loved me, but because I was a "Carrington responsibility." My stepmother’s words from earlier echoed in my mind.
“Don’t embarrass us, Ava,” Mrs. Carrington had said, her eyes sharp as glass. “This is your one chance to be useful.”
My nails dug into my palm. Every ounce of me wanted to snap back at her, but I’d learned long ago that showing anger only gave her more power. I glanced at my reflection one last time. My face was calm, but my eyes weren’t. They burned with quiet rebellion. You’ve survived worse, Ava. You’ll survive this too.
A sharp knock on the door startled me. Mrs. Carrington swept in, all grace and venom, her smile as fake as the diamonds on her neck. Her eyes scanned me like I was a product she was about to sell.
“Time to go, dear,” she said with false sweetness. “Try not to trip. It’s bad enough you’re wearing that dress.”
I stood slowly, letting her words roll off me like rain on stone. Don’t react. Don’t give her the satisfaction. As I passed her, I glanced at her face, keeping my voice cool.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll be the perfect bride.”
Her smile faltered for a split second, and I held onto that moment like a prize. Good. Let her choke on it.
The Wedding Hall
The moment I stepped into the hall, every eye turned to me. The violins played a soft, sweeping melody, but it did little to calm the pounding in my chest. I focused on the end of the aisle where he waited. Lucas Williams. My soon-to-be husband.
He sat in a wheelchair, his white suit crisp and clean. His gaze wasn’t on me at first. He stared straight ahead, his face unreadable. But as I moved closer, his eyes shifted to me, sharp and assessing. He wasn’t smiling. Good. Neither was I.
I didn’t walk like a bride floating toward her prince. I walked like someone heading into battle, each step heavier than the last. Just reach him, I told myself. Reach him, and it’ll be over
When I finally stood beside him, the air between us felt… odd. Not cold. Not warm. Just unfamiliar. We didn’t look at each other at first, both of us facing forward like strangers on a crowded bus.
“Nice dress,” Lucas muttered, low enough for only me to hear.
“Nice wheelchair,” I shot back, not missing a beat.
He blinked, then glanced at me. A slow, surprised grin tugged at his lips. He let out a short laugh, barely more than a breath.
At least he has a sense of humor.
The officiant began to speak, but halfway through, the tension that had been brewing between the two families finally exploded.
“Watch your mouth, Carrington!” Mr. Williams’s voice boomed, slicing through the air like thunder.
The crowd gasped. Every head turned toward him.
“Sit down, Williams,” Mr. Carrington said with that maddening, smug smile. “Your son is getting married. Don’t make it about you.”
“You wouldn’t have a company if it weren’t for me,” Mr. Williams growled, his face red with anger. “Don’t act like you own me.”
Mrs. Carrington gasped, clutching her chest as if she’d been struck. “Such hostility,” she said, her voice laced with mock concern. “No wonder you’re losing.”
Mrs. Williams shot to her feet. “Watch your tone, Lydia.”
“Or what?” Mrs. Carrington’s smile turned wicked. “You’ll scream at me like your husband does?”
The room fell silent. Everyone stared, wide-eyed, like they were waiting for a punch to be thrown.
“Alright!” the officiant clapped his hands together, his voice high with forced cheer. “This is a wedding, not a board meeting!”
“Could’ve fooled me,” someone muttered from the Williams side. I bit down a laugh, quickly looking away.
I felt Lucas shift beside me.
“Are they always like this?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
“Every holiday,” he replied. His voice was calm, but I could hear the amusement hidden beneath. “You’ll get used to it.”
“I doubt it,” I muttered, shaking my head.
He smirked, leaning just a little closer. “You’re catching on quick.”
The officiant, clearly exhausted, powered through the rest of the ceremony. “Do you, Lucas Williams, take Ava Carrington to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
Lucas’s gaze flicked to me for a brief second. I saw it then — that flicker of understanding. He knows I didn’t choose this either.
“I do,” he said firmly. No hesitation. No fear.
The officiant turned to me. “And do you, Ava Carrington, take Lucas Williams to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
My throat felt tight. For a second, I thought I’d choke on the words. Run, the voice whispered again. Run.
I glanced at Lucas. He didn’t say a word, but his eyes were steady. If I run, they’ll make me regret it.
“Yeah,” I said, nodding once. “I do.”
The officiant smiled, clearly relieved. “Then, by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Both Lucas and I hesitated. For a second, I thought we’d both refuse just to spite everyone watching.
“Go on!” Derek’s voice rang from the back. “Don’t be shy!”
I rolled my eyes, and Lucas snorted a quiet laugh. He turned his chair slightly, leaning toward me. I thought he might kiss my cheek, but at the last second, he turned his head and pressed a quick kiss to my temple instead. It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t sweet. It was an agreement.
“Happy now?” he muttered as he pulled back.
“Not even close,” I replied, but my voice didn’t have as much bite as before.
For a moment, we just looked at each other. No words. No smiles. Just two people who’d been shoved into the same storm.
Maybe this won’t be as bad as I thought, I realized.
The crowd erupted into applause, the noise filling the hall like a thunderclap. But I barely heard it.
Because for the first time all day, I didn’t feel alone.
