4. A Bride’s Reflection

Lana's POV.

I stood in front of the mirror, surrounded by a group of maids all trying to doll me up for the big day. They chattered and laughed as they worked, but I was silent-a thousand miles away.

How did I end up here? I thought, my eyes glazing over as I stared at my reflection. Just a couple of weeks ago, I was working as a lowly receptionist, barely making ends meet. And now, I was about to marry one of the wealthiest men in the city.

But as I thought of my mother, of how healthy and happy she was now that she'd gotten the surgery, courtesy of Max, my thoughts were tempered. I'd done this for her, I reminded myself. I'd made this sacrifice for her.

Until at last, they finished their job, and I was transformed into a bride. My hair flowed in soft cascades down my back, the makeup was subdued yet elegant, and my white wedding gown fitted to perfection.

But I did not see a bride beautiful standing and staring back in the mirror, but a girl who had sold herself for the health and life of her mother, who gave up her happiness and freedom just for somebody.

I felt this pang of sadness and regret creep in, which I pushed back. I did what I needed to do. Now I should live with the decision.

"It's time to go, Miss Lana," one of the maids said, breaking into my thoughts.

I took a deep breath and smoothed my gown, then turned to follow the maids as they left the room. Now was the time to face whichever future lay in store for me.

I stepped out and found a sleek black limousine waiting for me, its silent motor purring. The maids helped me into the car, and we just glided through the streets so smoothly, with all the scenery outside a blur as mind was elsewhere.

Before I knew it, we were there. The cool air hit my face in as the steamed door pushed open, and I stepped onto the sidewalk, my eyes fixed on the great stone building in front of me.

There was a soft hymn on the air as I entered the doors, sweet voices of a choir rising and falling together. I walked up the aisle and scanned the sea of unfamiliar faces.

They were all elites; I knew that much.

But I did not know one of them. Not one face was familiar to me.

That was, until I reached the altar.

My mother was sitting in a wheelchair, a soft smile dancing around her lips. She was pale and slender, but her eyes shone so bright with happiness as she watched me approach.

"Lana, darling," she whispered, shaking with emotion in her voice.

I smiled at her, feeling a lump form in my throat. It's all for her, I thought to myself, and all worth it.

The priest cleared his throat and began.

"Dearly beloved," he rumbled, the voice echoing through the church. "We are gathered here today to witness the union of Max Donovan and Lana."

He stopped, looking at me expectantly.

"Reynolds," I said, my voice no louder than a whisper.

The priest nodded and started again.

".Lana Reynolds. Max and Lana, you have come before us today promising your love and commitment to live together in marriage. Do you, Max take Lana to be your wife?"

Max's voice was strong and sure as he said, "I do."

The priest now turned to me.

"And you, Lana take Max to be your husband?

I wavered, my heart thundering in my chest. Then I looked over at my mom, and I knew what I had to do.

"I do," I said, my voice firm.

The ceremony droned on, some priest talking and talking as Max and I exchanged vows. It all felt so surreal, like I was watching myself from outside my body.

But then, just as the priest pronounced us husband and wife and Max leaned in to seal it with a kiss, it hit-me: I was a married woman now-for better or worse-to this perfect stranger.

The reception is a blur of chatters and giggles.

Max and I first danced as husband and wife; our bodies swaying to the rhythm of the music, our eyes locked on one another.

As we danced, I saw my mom, her chair pulled off to the edge of a front table. A smile was beaming from her face but a lump formed in my throat.

I excused myself from Max after our dance, making my way over to her, kneeling beside her chair.

"Mom," I whispered, taking her hand in mine, "I am so glad that you are here."

My mother's eyes were brimming as she looked into mine. "I wouldn't have missed it for the world, sweetie," she replied in a breaking voice.

Suddenly overcome, I clutched her tightly. It was for her, all this was worth it, I told myself.

As the reception was finally clearing, Max and I went toward the limousine, waving to our onlookers while driving away from them.

But the moment we were alone in the car, Max became a different person. Cold, his eyes glinted in the dim light.

"So," he said, his voice detached. "Now that the ceremony is over, I suppose it's time for us to go over the terms of our agreement."

I felt a shiver run down my spine as the truth dawned on me. It was all just business to him. A piece of paper, a contract to be fulfilled.

"What do you mean?" I asked, trying to keep my voice from shaking.

Max's gaze held mine hostage. "What I mean," he said slowly, "is that I need you to step up and start acting like a wife. You will be expected to be always available to me when I demand it, attending social functions as my partner and sharing my life with me as any wife should. And no room for mistakes.”

"I understand," I attempted to say steadily.

"Good," he finally said. "I'm glad we understand each other."

The rest of the ride was silent, save for the low hum of the engine. My mind wandered aimlessly, trying to comprehend my cruel reality.

I was married to a man who didn't love me-a man who considered me no different from a worthless piece of paper. And I was trapped, bound to him by a contract that I could never get free from.