Masuk
Zara Alaric moved quietly through the rooms, adjusting ribbons on the flower arrangements and straightening Selene’s bridesmaid's gown hem. Today was supposed to be Selene’s big day, the moment every detail had been planned for months, the day she would become Adrian Boss's bride.
Zara had spent hours making sure everything was perfect. After all, Selene deserved it. She had always deserved everything. Zara, in contrast, had grown accustomed to the quiet, overlooked corners of the world. She was the “good girl,” the stepdaughter who never spoke up, who always stayed in the background while Selene soaked up praise, attention, and affection. Her stepsister had been pampered since the day Margot had married her father after the death of Zara’s mother. Selene’s whims were the law. Her desires were fulfilled without question, while Zara learned early to remain invisible, to bend and endure. Her father, Richard Alaric, loved her in his quiet, timid way, but he was powerless in the face of Margot. Wealth, status, and fear of his wife kept him muted. He rarely spoke out; when he did, Margot's sharp rebukes silenced him immediately. Today, Zara was prepared to play her part as always: a supporting figure, someone in the wings while Selene claimed the spotlight. But the day had other plans. A sharp knock at the door startled her. Margot entered without waiting for an answer, her posture rigid, her expression impossibly controlled. “Zara, come here,” she said, voice sharp as a whip. Zara walked over cautiously. “Is everything ready for Selene’s wedding?” she asked, trying to mask the unease creeping in her chest. Margot's eyes were cold, calculating. She held out a folded envelope. “Read this.” Zara’s hands trembled as she took it. Opening the envelope, she froze at the familiar handwriting: “I cannot do this. I cannot marry Adrian Voss . I need to live my own life. I have a man I love and we are both so happy in love. Don’t look for me, gone. Selene .” The words blurred before her eyes. Selene was gone. The golden girl, the one who had been adored by everyone in the house, who had been pampered and shielded from every inconvenience, had run away. “Selene , she… she left?” Zara whispered. Margot's lips pressed into a thin line. “Yes. And that means you will walk down the aisle today.” Zara’s head snapped up, disbelief twisting her features. “I… I’m not Selene ! I’m just… the bridesmaid! This isn’t my life!” I am sorry Mother but I can’t take up Selene’s place. Her father shifted uneasily, mumbling, “Zara… for the family… please…” But he didn’t meet her eyes. He never did when Margot was around. Blinded by her manipulation and the wealth she commanded, he was no more than a shadow, weak and silent, a man who had long ago surrendered the reins of the household to Margot's iron grip. “You will do this,” Margot snapped. “You are the only one who can preserve the family’s honour. Adrian expects a bride tonight, not excuses. This is not optional.” Zara felt as though the room had collapsed in on her. She was being forced into a life she had never imagined, stepping into the shoes of a woman she had admired and envied in Selene for years for having all the love and attention. Her mind raced. How could she possibly…? “There is no time,” Margot said, her tone brooking no argument. “Get dressed. Your father will… help where necessary,” He sighed quietly, nodding, his hands twisting nervously. “I… I’m sorry, Zara, but you have to do this to save the family’s reputation. I am old and weary of what will happen if my name tarnishes at the end. While he muttered, while avoiding her eyes, he added words of apology, meaningless in the face of Margot's domination, and fell into the void between them. With no choice and red puffy eyes after sobbing for minutes, Zara moved mechanically, pulling on the gown that Selene had meant to wear. The satin slipped over her skin, heavy and foreign, transforming her into someone else entirely. She barely recognised the reflection in the mirror. It wasn’t her, it was Selene , glowing, poised, perfect house was uncomfortably silent as Zara descended the staircase in Selene’s gown, her fingers trembling as they gripped the railing. The satin pooled around her feet, heavy like chains. Every step felt like a betrayal of herself. At the bottom, Margot waited. Her sharp eyes travelled slowly from Zara’s pale face to the hem of the dress. She folded her arms, lips curling into something that wasn’t quite approval. “Remember this, Zara,” Margot said, her voice low and crisp. “Today you are Selene . You will walk with grace, smile when expected, and keep your mouth shut unless someone addresses you. Do you understand?” Zara nodded faintly. “Yes, Mother.”Then you will make sure he doesn’t,” Margot cut in sharply. “Adrian Voss is a man of pride, a man who despises scandal more than anything. He will be angry, yes, but he will not humiliate himself or his family in public. That is our shield, and you will hide behind it.” Her father shifted uncomfortably beside them, but, as always, said nothing. Margot stepped closer, her perfume sharp in the air. She lifted a hand and adjusted the veil over Zara’s hair with almost mocking care. “Do not embarrass me, Zara. Do not stumble, do not cry, and above all do not forget the only reason you are doing this. Our reputation. Without it, we are nothing.” Zara swallowed hard, her eyes burning. “And what about me?” she whispered. “What am I, then?” For the briefest moment, something flickered in Margot's expression of impatience, maybe even contempt. “You are useful,” she said flatly. “That is enough.” The words landed like a slap. Zara turned her face away, blinking back tears. The drive to the cathedral was a blur. Margot's sharp glances reminded her that any misstep would bring humiliation, not relief. Her father sat silently, eyes downcast, a helpless spectator in his own house. And then… she saw him. Adrian Voss. Tall, imposing, and impossibly precise, he stood at the altar. His silver-gray eyes scanned the room, then locked onto her. A flicker of confusion, then sharp anger passed across his face. “Wait… that’s not…” His voice cut through the whispers of the assembled guests. Zara froze, heart hammering. “I’m…” “Selene, Selene , Alaric. She’s supposed to be here.” “She ran away,” Zara whispered, trembling. “I… I’m filling in. I had no choice.” His jaw tightened, eyes like steel. “You… you’re a replacement? Do you understand what you’ve done? I agreed to marry Selene , not you.” Margot stepped forward, her smile sharp and rehearsed. “Sir, she’s only helping preserve the family’s honour. Selene abandoned her responsibilities, and Zara stepped in to prevent a scandal.”Adrian’s step mum snapped, “ If it weren’t for my reputation I wouldn't let my son be in this scum. Isabella Adrian’s sister tried to calm her down but it was of no use. And Zara felt more horrible. Adrian’s fists clenched at his sides. “A replacement,” he said slowly, venom curling in each syllable. “And I despise it.” “Yes,” Zara whispered, voice trembling but firm. “I know you don’t want me here.” But trust me, I also didn’t want to be here either, but I had no choice. He studied her, the weight of his gaze pressing against her chest. Every step down the aisle felt heavier than the last. She was forced, exposed, and utterly powerless, yet beneath the fear was a spark of defiance. She would survive this. She had no choice. And as the priest began the ceremony, Zara realised the truth: her life had just changed forever. Selene had run away, leaving her in the eye of a storm named Adrian voss and survival would demand everything she had.The fifth-floor library was not a room; it was a mausoleum of knowledge. Floor-to-ceiling shelves of dark oak lined the walls, casting the vast space in permanent twilight. The air here was dry and thick with the scent of aged paper and leather binding, a world away from the cold polish of Adrian’s office.Zara ran a gloved hand along the spine of a massive volume, feeling the embossed title beneath the fine kid leather. This was her sanctuary, her chosen prison cell, and the material of her eventual weapon. She had dismissed the estate manager, Mr. Hayes, with a brief, formal nod, making it clear she required no company and no supervision.Adrian had given her access, but he hadn't given her a key. He'd given her a test.Her 'private suite'a luxurious, impersonal apartment within the main wing felt stifling. Here, in the library, she felt a quiet kind of focus. She wasn't just planning to read; she was planning to understand the foundation of the Voss empire, piece by meticulous pie
The faint, mocking echo of Adrian’s laughter faded, leaving the office colder than before. Zara stood still, her hand pressed to the place on her dress where she had wiped away his touch. That small flicker of defiance inside her hardened into something stronger, tougher like steel forged in fire.Adrian signed the contract with a sharp, dramatic stroke, as though he was stamping his claim on her life. He didn’t even bother to look at her when he spoke, his tone flat and commanding.“You’ve made your little declaration, Zara Alaric. Now, you’ll live by mine.”He slid a sleek silver card case across the desk. Its polished surface caught the dim light, almost blinding.“Your first lesson in obedience,” he said. “Inside are two things: the emergency number for my estate manager, Mr. Hayes, and the account details for your allowance. Every coin you spend will be tracked. Any large purchase, any step outside the rules, any contact with creditors I will know immediately. Do you understand?”
Adrian’s office was a fortress of shadows. The tall windows let in little light, their heavy curtains drawn to keep the world outside at bay. The air was cold, sharp with the scent of polished leather and faint cigar smoke, a space designed to intimidate anyone who stepped inside. Zara stood in the center of it, her pulse hammering in her ears. The silence stretched, thick and oppressive, pressing against her chest.Her legs ached from the weight of exhaustion. The gala had drained her, every smile forced, every glance burning. And then there had been his mother ruthless, merciless who had humiliated her before in the morning Zara’s pride still smarted like an open wound. She had wanted, foolishly, for Adrian to defend her, to take her side. But of course, he hadn’t. Because he didn’t see a thing and even if he had seen it he wouldn’t have taken her side .Now, facing him across the wide expanse of his mahogany desk, she felt stripped bare. He hadn’t even offered her a seat. The messa
The sudden sharpness in Adria’s voice sliced through the heavy silence like a knife.“What are you doing with her? And why didn’t you tell me you were coming…!”Zara froze. Her chest tightened at those words so full of judgment, so void of defense. Disappointment pooled in her heart because it was painfully clear Adrian hadn’t seen the fight between them. He hadn’t noticed her tears, her trembling. And worse, he wouldn't have even considered taking her side.After all, why would he? He hated her just as much as his mother did.“Uhmm… I came because of the news,” Clare muttered nervously, breaking the tension.“Oh, that…” Adrian sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck as though the weight of the world pressed against him. His eyes flicked toward Zara, sharp and cold.“Are you happy now? That my name is being dragged through the mud because of you? Tarnished like that? Go to your room. The sight of your face disgusts me.”The words struck harder than any slap. Zara’s throat burne
Adrian’s Mother’s POVClaire Voss slammed the door behind her daughter, Isabella, who ran out of the house like a frightened rabbit. Alone in the living room, the echo of the door reverberated through the house until it was swallowed by the shrill voice of the evening news.Her eyes darted to the television. And there it was her family name flashing across the screen in bold, ugly letters. The camera replayed the humiliating scene from last night: her daughter-in-law, Zara, stumbling, awkward, completely disgracing herself in public. The reporters didn’t even try to soften their words “embarrassing,” “classless,” “shameful.”Claire’s lips curled in disgust.“So this is why she came into my family?” she muttered under her breath, voice trembling with rage. “To ruin us… to mock the Voss name. If she thinks she can embarrass me, embarrass us then she’s about to learn what Claire Voss can do.”With a sharp flick, she turned off the TV, unable to endure another second of the humiliation.
Later, the music swelled. Couples filled the dance floor, swirling under golden lights.“Dance with me,” Adrian said, his hand extended.Zara’s stomach dropped. “I’ll just embarrass you. And myself.”He exhaled sharply, irritation clouding his features. “You already embarrassed me the day you agreed to take your sister’s place. What’s one more mistake?”Her chest burned. She swallowed hard, slipped her hand into his, and stepped onto the floor.The moment his hand settled at her waist, the world shrank to the steady rhythm of his movements. Zara kept her gaze locked on his shoulder, refusing to meet his piercing stare.But then Rip.The sound was soft, but in the echoing hall, it may as well have been thunder. Gasps rippled across the floor. Zara froze, horror flooding her as she felt the zipper at her back give way.Adrian reacted instantly. With one swift motion, he shrugged off his black coat and wrapped it around her shoulders, shielding her from hungry eyes and whispers.His gri







