BOUND BY FATE, HEALED BY LOVE

Ava’s POVThe cold marble floor sent shivers through my feet as I stood in the grand Carrington mansion. Its towering walls and expensive art screamed luxury, but to me, it was nothing more than a golden cage. My mother had worked here as a maid for ten years before she died giving birth to me. That single act had marked me as a stain on the pristine image of this family.Mr. Carrington—my father—acknowledged me in silence, never in words. His wife, Mrs. Carrington, despised me with every breath she took. To her, I was the daughter of “the help,” an unwanted reminder of her husband’s mistakes. My half-siblings? They barely remembered I existed unless they needed someone to blame.But today, something was different. Something was brewing.“Ava,” Mrs. Carrington’s sharp voice cut through my thoughts, dragging me into the sitting room where she waited with my father. She sat stiffly on one of the ornate chairs, her lips pressed into a thin line. Mr. Carrington stood by the fireplace,

Ava’s POVThe 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. Th

Ava"s POVI never thought silence could feel this loud. But here I was, sitting across from Lucas in our dimly lit living room, the air so thick with tension you could cut it with a knife. His eyes were distant, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest of his wheelchair.He’d been quiet all morning, more quiet than usual, and that was saying something. We were still getting used to this whole “married strangers living together” arrangement, but today, something was off.I set my cup of tea down, watching the steam swirl up like a ghost between us. “You good?” I asked cautiously.He didn’t respond right away, his gaze fixed on the window as if it held the answers to every question in his life.“Lucas?” I tried again, leaning forward. “You look like you’re about to explode.”His jaw tightened, his fingers stopping their tapping. “Do you know?” His voice was low, barely more than a growl.I blinked, confused. “Know what?”His eyes finally met mine, sharp and piercing like