Chapter Six

(Selena's POV)

I didn’t cry when the dress was zipped up or when the veil was placed gently over my head. I caught my reflection in the full-length mirror and barely recognized the girl staring back at me.

She looked like a bride. But I didn’t feel like one.

I felt like a sacrifice.

Three days locked away in my room had drained everything out of me. The pleading, the protesting, the aching questions. All of it has dried up like an old wound. I screamed until my voice cracked, cried until my chest hollowed.

Today, I wasn’t walking down the aisle. I was being led to a grave I've been groomed for.

The room buzzed with muted excitement—stylists, assistants, housemaids fluttering around me like anxious birds. They spoke softly, moving quickly, careful not to upset the porcelain doll they were dressing up. That’s what I had become—a delicate figure dressed in lace and expectation, soon to be delivered.

Sophia was ready, wearing an emerald dress and her hair styled in an elegant ponytail. She had offered to be my maid of honor, trying her best to be here and comfort me.

“I'm really sorry you have to go through this Sel. I wish there was something I could do to get you out of this.” She had said earlier this morning.

I wish there was something I could do to get myself out of this too. But this was my life now.

“Almost ready, Miss Valenci,” one of the stylists said with a forced smile.

Not once did anyone ask how I felt.

But even if they had, what would I say? That I felt like I was being auctioned? That I wished the ground would open up and swallow me whole before I had to say "I do"?

“Selena,” my mother whispered, entering the room. She looked breathtaking in her navy-blue gown, her hair pinned perfectly, her face painted with practiced elegance. But her eyes held something like sorrow or maybe guilt.

“I know this isn’t what you wanted,” she said softly, brushing a curl away from my cheek. “But sometimes, duty outweighs desire. You’ll understand one day.”

I turned away.

Will I? Or will I spend the rest of my life pretending I’m okay with being sold for power?

She kissed my forehead, ignoring my silence, and murmured, “You’re going to make a beautiful bride.”

I wasn’t sure if she was trying to comfort me or herself.

The ceremony was held in the grand ballroom of the Valenci estate—transformed into a cathedral of wealth and perfection. White roses cascaded from crystal vases. Violinists played as if the music could mask the coldness of it all. Guests filled the pews, dressed in silks and diamonds, murmuring praises, trading business cards, congratulating themselves more than the bride and groom.

Damien stood at the altar, a flawless picture in a black tuxedo, his expression unreadable.

As I walked down the aisle, arm in arm with my father, I kept my face frozen, my steps measured. Each click of my heel echoed like a death toll. My father’s grip was iron around my arm, his chin high, proud. We were closing a deal, a multi-billion-dollar union. A future shaped in boardrooms and sealed with my signature on a marriage certificate.

Damien didn’t smile when he saw me. He didn’t reach for my hand when I joined him. We faced the officiant like two statues cast in gold.

“Do you, Selena Valenci, take Damien Delacroix…”

No.

My soul whispered it over and over. No. No. No.

“…to have and to hold, from this day forward…”

I could feel my throat closing, my palms damp inside my gloves.

“…for better or worse…”

This is the worse. This is the worst it could possibly be.

“…till death do you part?”

I hesitated.

The silence was noticeable. A murmur rippled through the room.

But I lifted my chin, forced my lips to shape the word I didn’t believe.

“I do.”

Damien didn’t flinch. When it was his turn, he said it smoothly, almost bored.

“I do.”

And just like that, it was done.

The applause rose around us like static. Flashing lights went off. I felt nothing.

At the reception, I moved like a ghost. I smiled when prompted, danced the first dance with Damien, who kept one hand too far from my waist and the other stiff in mine. His voice was low as he leaned in.

“This is business, Selena. Let’s not make it more than that.”

I blinked at him.

“I wasn’t going to.”

He gave me a faint, cold smile. “Good.”

It was official, I was his. In name, if not in heart. A Delacroix by law, a Valenci by blood, a woman in mourning.

Later, when I slipped away to the terrace, the air was cool, the sky painted in soft moonlight. I stood there alone, staring into the night, wondering if Luca was somewhere beneath that same sky.

I wrapped my arms around myself, breath hitching.

I was married, but I've never felt more alone.

*****

(Damien's POV)

The morning of my wedding arrived like any other business deal—cold, calculated, and inevitable.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror as I adjusted the cufflinks on my sleeves. My initials, D.D., intertwined like an emblem of legacy. I was about to get more than just a bride—I was sealing an alliance between two of the most powerful families in the region. A merger disguised as matrimony.

There was no love in this. It was purely business.

My bride, Selena Valenci, soon to be Selena Delacroix is undeniably beautiful, regal, elegant, but stubborn in all the wrong ways.

When she came back from her little escapade, I was livid. I went to her father's mansion the moment I heard she was back and found her in the east hallway, flanked by guards and her mother.

I pulled her aside, pressed her back against the wall, and looked her dead in the eyes.

“If you ever run again,” I told her, my voice low and clipped, “there will be consequences. Not just for you but for your family and for whoever helped you. Don’t test me, Selena.”

She didn’t flinch. She just glared at me, her jaw clenched like she was daring me to follow through.

She was brave, stupid or both.

I had half-expected my brother to show up today. I wanted to see the look on his face as he watched me get married even if it was for show. But he didn’t come.

The ballroom had been transformed into a cathedral of luxury—white roses everywhere, a string quartet humming elegance into the air. Guests filled the space with murmurs and moneyed laughter. This was their kind of celebration.

I stood at the altar, expression unreadable, hands clasped behind my back, waiting.

And then the doors opened, ushering in Selena with slow music playing in the background.

Dressed in ivory lace, moving like a ghost down the aisle. Her face was porcelain—flawless and empty. Not a single emotion cracked through her mask.

She took her place beside me without a word. I didn’t reach for her hand and she didn’t offer it. We stood there like two well-dressed strangers in a very expensive photograph.

The officiant spoke.

I barely heard him.

My eyes were on her.

Her hesitation when it was time to say “I do” was brief. A flash of rebellion, a glint of resistance.

“I do,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

I almost smirked.

My turn came, and I said it easily.

“I do.”

The applause followed. Cameras flashed and people cheered.

During the first dance, I kept my hand light on her waist, the other curled around her fingers. We moved like two professionals choreographing a performance. Her eyes didn’t meet mine once.

“This is business, Selena,” I murmured as we turned in slow circles. “Let’s not make it more than that.”

Her gaze lifted then—sharp, hollow.

“I wasn’t going to.”

I nodded once.

Good.

Because anything more would be dangerous.

The reception passed in a blur of handshakes and congratulations. I gave a smug toast. Selena’s father boomed about alliances, strength and the future. Her mother kept glancing at her like she might crumble.

She sat beside me, quiet, poised, playing the perfect bride. But I knew she hated this, she hates me.

Later, I slipped away from the crowd, scotch in hand, and leaned against the marble railing on the balcony. The stars stretched across the sky like witnesses to my triumph.

I sipped my drink, gazing at the stars.

Selena might have been forced into this, but she was mine now. She needs to act like my wife and I'll make sure she does, even if I have to remind her every day that love isn’t necessary, just obedience.