5

The grand doors of the wedding hall swung open, and Isabella stepped inside, her heart pounding beneath layers of silk and lace.

The murmur of the guests dimmed into a faint hum. Rows of familiar faces blurred together—relatives, friends of her late father, distant cousins she barely recognized. Everyone turned toward her, their eyes bright with admiration and curiosity.

The melody of the wedding march filled the air, but the music couldn’t drown out the rush of blood in her ears.

Then she froze.

At the far end of the aisle stood a tall man—broad-shouldered, sharp-featured, and utterly impossible to mistake.

Her chest tightened.

Maximilian Martez.

What on earth was he doing here?

Her mind spun. Martez… Maximilian Martez? That cold, arrogant CEO from the partner company?

He must be the eldest son of the Martez family. How had she never realized it before?

But then—where was Miguel?

A wave of unease rippled through her. Something wasn’t right.

“Ahem… let’s welcome the bride!” the preacher’s voice echoed, pulling her back into the moment.

The guests clapped politely, unaware of the confusion flashing across her eyes. Isabella forced herself to breathe, to walk forward, even though her steps felt heavier with each beat of the music.

When she reached the altar, Maximilian’s gaze locked on her. His eyes were cold and unreadable, like twin pieces of polished obsidian.

“Why are you here?” Isabella whispered, her lips barely moving. “You’re not Miguel, are you?”

“Miguel is my brother,” Maximilian replied smoothly, as if discussing business. “He couldn’t make it. I’ll be marrying you instead.”

Her heart stuttered.

“What?” she hissed under her breath. “Is this some kind of joke?”

He didn’t blink. “No joke. Consider it a… family adjustment.”

Her stomach twisted. A family adjustment? What was she, some product being exchanged between brothers?

He leaned closer, his voice dropping low enough that only she could hear.

“Honestly,” he murmured, “whoever the groom was, it wouldn’t have mattered to you, would it? So why not make this simple and finish the day?”

For a heartbeat, she was too stunned to reply. Then disbelief gave way to fury.

She wanted to tell him off—to shout that she wasn’t some accessory for the Martez family’s convenience—but before she could, she saw her mother’s radiant smile from the front row.

It was the first genuine smile her mother had worn in years.

Isabella’s throat tightened.

“Miss Hernando,” Maximilian whispered again, his words sharp as glass. “I’m only doing this because my mother asked. Don’t expect to enter this family easily. One year from now, this farce ends.”

Her pulse spiked. “One year?”

He tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Too long for you? Six months, then?”

Isabella clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms.

“Mr. Martez,” she hissed, voice trembling with fury, “if it weren’t for our mothers pushing for this, I would never agree to marry you.”

His chuckle was low and mocking. “Didn’t you agree to this marriage just to prove yourself worthy of our family? And now that I’ve taken Miguel’s place, you don’t seem to mind.”

Her eyes flashed. “Enough, Mr. Martez,” she said through gritted teeth. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve your contempt—but I’m not as lowly as you think.”

“Really?” he murmured, his gaze lingering on her face. “All women say that. Until they need something.”

The words hit her like a slap.

Her breath caught. She wanted to fight back—to throw his arrogance in his face—but her mother’s voice from the audience echoed faintly in her ears, “Be calm, my dear. Don’t make a scene.”

So Isabella smiled instead. A small, practiced smile. Cold and unyielding.

“Then you’ll learn soon enough,” she whispered. “I’m not one of those women.”

The ceremony continued.

The preacher’s voice filled the room, solemn and distant, as if from another world. Rings were exchanged, vows spoken through gritted teeth. Applause broke out as they sealed their vows with a mechanical grace neither believed in.

Isabella stood there, expression unreadable. Not a flicker of joy touched her eyes.

---

After the ceremony, as the crowd dispersed into laughter and chatter, Isabella caught her mother’s soft voice calling out.

“Isabella.”

She turned, quickly wiping away the faint sheen of tears threatening to form.

“Yes, Mom.”

Mrs. Hernando reached for her daughter’s hands, holding them tightly. Her eyes shimmered with pride and something else—relief.

“My dear child,” she began, her voice trembling, “you’re now Maximilian’s wife. My only advice is this: no matter what happens, stay by your husband’s side. Be patient, be kind. A good marriage takes time.”

Isabella blinked, confused. Maximilian’s wife?

“Mom,” Isabella said softly, her voice trembling, “did you know about this? About him?”

Her mother hesitated—just for a moment—but that flicker of guilt didn’t escape Isabella’s eyes.

Mrs. Hernando sighed quietly and squeezed her daughter’s hands.

“My dear… after the ceremony began, Mrs. Martez told me everything,” she said gently. “Miguel… ran away, Bella. He left a message saying he couldn’t go through with the wedding.”

Isabella froze, her breath catching. “He… what?”

“She was devastated,” her mother continued, her voice quivering. “But she begged me not to let everything fall apart. And then—then Maximilian stepped forward. He offered to take responsibility. He didn’t want to disgrace either family.”

The words tumbled out of her, a desperate blend of explanation and comfort.

“Bella, I know it’s sudden, but maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. Maximilian is more mature, more stable. He’s responsible, successful… he’s the kind of man who’ll protect you. Any mother would be grateful for a son-in-law like him.”

Isabella stared at her mother, disbelief clouding her eyes.

“So, because Miguel ran away, you just—let his brother marry me?”

Mrs. Hernando’s expression wavered. “It wasn’t like that, Bella. Think about it—would you rather have faced humiliation in front of everyone? Mrs. Martez was trembling with shame. And when Maximilian volunteered… I thought—maybe it was fate’s way of giving you a better future.”

“Fate?” Isabella echoed faintly, her chest tightening. “Mom, I don’t even know him. I mean, I didn’t know Miguel that well either, but at least we shared childhood memories. But this Maximilian…”

“I know,” Mrs. Hernando whispered, brushing a tear from her daughter’s cheek. “But he’s not like other men. He could’ve walked away too—but he didn’t. That shows something, doesn’t it? Responsibility. Honor. Maybe he’s not easy to read, but I believe there’s kindness underneath.”

Isabella bit her lip hard, trying to keep her emotions from spilling over. Her mother’s sincerity hurt more than anger ever could.

Mrs. Hernando’s tone softened again, trembling with hope.

“Bella, please… don’t see this as misfortune. Sometimes, what feels wrong at first is what saves us in the end. Maximilian will take care of you—I can feel it.”

Isabella lowered her gaze, her vision blurring. “Take care of me…” she murmured, her voice hollow.

Her mother pulled her into an embrace, holding her close as if to shield her from a truth too heavy to bear.

“Promise me, Isabella,” she whispered. “Be patient. Be kind. No matter what happens, stay strong.”

Warm tears slipped down Isabella’s cheeks as she clung to her mother. The hum of laughter and clinking glasses faded into the distance.

In that moment, her world felt smaller—heavier—like a dream she hadn’t chosen but could no longer escape.

Across the room, Maximilian Martez watched her silently, his expression unreadable.

And when Isabella finally lifted her gaze, their eyes met—clashing like two enemies who had never even spoken.

God… how am I supposed to live with a man this narcissistic?

***