3. Tainting Perfection

Sara wasn’t given the chance to descend from the altar with any semblance of grace. Brutal hands, belonging to guards in black suits, clamped onto her arms and dragged her away like trash being cleared out.

Without a word, they hauled her through the front door, tearing her apart from her father, who was shoved roughly into a different car.

By late afternoon, the separate vehicles arrived at an isolated pavilion on the hilltop, still within the Moretti estate. Even there, they were kept under heavy guard, as if they were high-profile criminals.

The mountain air seeped into her bones, chilling her to the core, matching the terror that had taken root in her heart. Night brought a suffocating cold into the vast master bedroom of the pavilion.

​Sara sat on the edge of the bed, still in her wedding gown. Her mind was a whirlwind of unanswered questions.

​She had already asked her father, but even Albert Sterling knew nothing of the Moretti family. Her father had never been involved with such dangerous people—let alone the mafia.

‘And… why does he look at me with such hatred?’

​Sara dug through her memories, searching for some past transgression. But she had never wronged anyone.

​BANG!

​Her thoughts shattered as the bedroom door was kicked open.

​Damon Moretti strode in. He discarded his suit jacket carelessly, leaving him in a white shirt with the top two buttons undone, exposing his sturdy throat. His footsteps were heavy. He reeked of expensive whiskey, and his eyes burned with a rage capable of incinerating anything in its path.

​Sara scrambled up, her voice trembling despite her attempt to remain steady. “What do you want from me and my father?”

“Silence.”

​A brutal shove to her shoulders sent her crashing back onto the mattress, the force stealing the breath from her lungs. Before she could recover, his heavy frame loomed over her, pinning her wrists above her head with a single hand as hard as iron.

“What are you doing?! Let me go!” Sara shrieked, her voice raspy as her fragile lungs struggled for air amidst the mounting panic.

​He grabbed her chin, forcing her face up to meet his glare. “Do you think you’re the most perfect woman alive?”

​Sara shook her head frantically, reeling from the irrational hatred radiating from his hot breath. She didn't understand his question. 

“No—”

“Just because you have functioning legs, do you think you're better than her?”

​Sara thought of Iris. Still, she couldn't fathom why the woman’s misfortune was being blamed on her. She had never considered herself perfect just because she could walk.

“I don't understand what you mean—” she choked out.

​Damon squeezed her jaw, cutting off her excuses. His fury surged every time he remembered the pure-hearted request of the woman he loved to make Sara happy.

​His gaze dropped, tracing the pristine white of her wedding dress. His eyes burned with pure hatred and a destructive desire.

​To him, Sara’s healthy body was an injustice. How could a rotten woman who had abandoned her sister years ago grow up so whole and beautiful, while his guardian angel was confined to a wheelchair for life?

​​“You feel so holy, don’t you?” He sneered, his tone dripping with venom.

​He loomed closer, his eyes raking over her form with predatory malice. “You think you deserve this perfect body?”

​A cruel, twisted smile curled his lips. “I’ll stain it. I’ll tear away every bit of the perfection you don’t deserve.”

​RIP!

​The bodice of her wedding dress tore open in one violent tug. Sara screamed, tears spilling over as she realized her future would end in this man's hands.

​Damon didn't come for her out of lust. He came as an executioner, turning their intimacy into a weapon to stain, crush, and strip away her dignity to the very core.

“Why are you doing this—” Her words were silenced by a brutal, painful kiss.

​That night, amidst the cold silence of the pavilion, she was forced to swallow the bitter pill of her contract marriage in the form of physical and mental agony, leaving questions unanswered in the storm of the mafia’s cruelty.

​Why did this man suddenly appear and choose her as his prey?

As the storm of his violence finally subsided, Damon pulled away. His expression returned to that same bone-chilling indifference. 

He didn't look at her with a shred of remorse as he adjusted his clothes. Instead, he leaned down, his shadow completely eclipsing her shattered form, and pressed his lips close to her flushed ear.

“This is your life now,” he whispered, his low voice dripping with a promise of endless torment. “Get used to the dark. Because as long as she’s broken, I will make sure you never see the light again.”

With those parting words, he turned and strode out. The heavy click of the door locking from the outside echoed through the room. 

Left alone in the freezing silence, Sara lay completely still on the ruined sheets. Her body was aching and her mind was numb. 

She didn't cry. The sheer speed of her ruin had trapped the tears inside her, leaving only a cold, hollow space where her life used to be. She was locked in a cage with a monster, completely blind to the sins she was supposedly paying for.