MARRIED FOR VENGEANCE

CHAPTER #1

The rain poured heavily against the glass walls of the Adnersoin mansion, each drop echoing the chaos inside Izabelleh’s heart. She stood by the tall window, her reflection faint against the storm outside. Her eyes, once bright with hope, now carried the dull weight of fear and resignation. In less than an hour, she would marry a man she no longer recognized—the same man who once made her believe that love could last forever.

Aion Ynrowelz.

His name alone was enough to send a shiver through her. Every syllable reminded her of promises whispered under city lights, of stolen laughter, of how his arms used to feel like home. But those memories had turned to ashes the day he walked away, believing every lie told against her.

“Izabelleh,” her mother’s gentle voice broke the silence. She turned, meeting the tired eyes of a woman who had fought too long for dignity. “It’s time. The ceremony will begin soon.”

“I know,” Izabelleh answered softly.

Her mother reached out, fixing a strand of hair that had escaped the veil. “If only there were another way,” she said, her tone trembling.

“There isn’t,” Izabelleh replied, forcing a small smile. “We both know this marriage is the only thing that can save Dad’s company.”

The gown felt heavier with every breath. Each step down the grand staircase echoed like a countdown to surrender. The chandeliers above shimmered coldly, catching the silver in her earrings. At the end of the aisle stood Aion—tall, sharp-featured, unreadable. His black suit fit perfectly, as if power itself had been stitched into its seams.

He didn’t smile when he saw her. Not even once.

The ceremony began, but the priest’s voice blurred into a faint hum. Izabelleh focused on the sound of the rain outside, as if it could drown out the tension pressing between them. Her fingers trembled slightly when she lifted the bouquet. Aion didn’t notice—or maybe he just didn’t care.

When it was time for the vows, he spoke first, voice steady and deliberate. “I promise to honor this marriage,” he said, eyes locked on hers, “for as long as it serves its purpose.”

A quiet gasp came from the guests, but Aion remained stone-faced.

Her throat tightened, yet she refused to falter. “I promise to fulfill my duty,” she answered gently, “for as long as my heart allows it.”

The rings slid onto their fingers—cold metal that sealed them together not in love but in necessity. His touch was mechanical, almost cruel.

When the priest declared them husband and wife, polite applause rippled through the room. Izabelleh’s father smiled, relief washing over his face, but to her it sounded like chains closing.

As they walked down the aisle, Aion leaned closer, his whisper a blade. “Congratulations, Mrs. Ynrowelz. You finally got what you wanted.”

She paused mid-step. “And what exactly do you think I wanted?”

He turned his head slightly, smirking without warmth. “My name. My wealth. My ruin.”

Her chest ached, but she refused to look away. “Then I hope my ruin satisfies you too.”

The drive to the Ynrowelz estate was silent except for the rain tapping against the windows. The city blurred by, lights melting into streaks of silver and gold. Aion sat beside her, his gaze distant, while she stared at her reflection in the dark glass. She wondered when love had turned into this—two souls sitting inches apart yet living in different worlds.

When the car stopped, the mansion loomed ahead—majestic, intimidating, and lifeless. Inside, the marble floors gleamed beneath the chandeliers. Every step echoed against the vastness of the hall. Portraits of Aion’s ancestors lined the corridor, their eyes stern and judging.

The maids bowed as they entered. Aion’s voice cut through the air. “Leave us.”

Silence fell once more.

He turned to her, his tone sharp. “Don’t expect this marriage to mean anything. We may share a house, but that’s where it ends.”

Izabelleh met his gaze, her own steady and calm. “Don’t worry, Mr. Ynrowelz,” she said, using his name like a shield. “I stopped expecting anything from you a long time ago.”

For a split second, something flickered in his eyes—pain, regret, maybe longing—but it disappeared as quickly as it came. “Good,” he muttered, walking past her.

His footsteps faded down the corridor, leaving her in the hollow silence of his home. She stood still, clutching the hem of her gown, the diamond ring glinting like a cruel reminder of everything she’d lost.

Izabelleh walked toward the nearest window, her heels clicking softly against the marble. Outside, the rain had not stopped. It poured harder, as though the heavens were mourning with her. She pressed her palm to the cold glass, feeling the rhythm of each drop.

For a moment, she allowed herself to remember the Aion she used to love—the man who wrote songs for her, who waited outside her apartment in the rain just to walk her home, who swore that no rumor could ever break them apart. But that man was gone, buried under pride and misunderstanding.

A tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it. She quickly wiped it away, straightening her shoulders. She would not cry. Not tonight.

If this was the life she had chosen to protect her family, then she would endure it. But she would not break.

The thunder rolled in the distance, deep and low, shaking the windows slightly. The storm outside mirrored the one inside her chest. Yet even through the sound of the rain, her voice was steady when she whispered to herself, “If this is war, I will fight. I may have lost him, but I won’t lose myself.”

In the stillness that followed, Izabelleh turned away from the window. Somewhere down the hallway, she could hear faint footsteps—Aion’s, perhaps pacing in another room, restless and angry. Maybe he was as lost as she was.

But it didn’t matter anymore.

Because tonight marked the end of the love they once shared, and the beginning of something far colder—a marriage bound not by affection, but by survival.

And as the storm raged on outside, Izabelleh lifted her chin and whispered to the silence, “So be it.”

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