Chapter 5 : Forced On Me

My eyes widened. I shot out of my chair and stared at him cautiously.

“U-Uncle.” I looked at him, then back at the gun.

“Relax Velma.” He turned it down. “It’s for you.”

Slowly, he handed it over to me, along with a strap. I took them, and the familiar weight of the gun settled into my palm.

Immediately, old memories resurfaced. Long afternoons at our private shooting range. Sneaking around so dad wouldn’t know I was training to be strong

“This is definitely the strangest wedding gift anyone has ever received.” I remarked, trying to lighten the mood.

But he didn’t laugh. His expression remained serious.

“Strap it to your leg.” He said. “You still remember your training?”

I nodded, and did as he asked.

“Good.” I looked at uncle and realised his shoulders were tense, and he looked at me with so much worry.

I swallowed. “Uncle Marcus...why are you giving me this today?”

I had always asked for a personal gun, but he had always turned down my request.

His forehead creased as he let out a heavy sigh.

“I would never forgive myself if I watched my niece get sent to the devil, without even a weapon.”

That’s when I realised, this gun wasn’t just a gift.

Uncle Marcus genuinely believed I would need it.

Before I could muster a response, a loud knock echoed through the dressing room.

The door burst open a second later. Three stylists hurried inside, followed closely by my mother.

Unlike Uncle Marcus, she looked thrilled. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she rushed toward me.

“He’s here.”

I stared at her, still dazed. “What?”

“The groom.” She clasped her hands together. “The Volkovs just arrived.”

Oh.

So this was really happening. No last-minute cancellation. I was about to get married.

Uncle Marcus glanced at me one final time. His expression remained troubled.

Then he squeezed my shoulder, his eyes communicating all he couldn’t say in front of mother.

As he left, I looked down toward my weapon hidden beneath my wedding gown. The weight against my leg suddenly felt much heavier.

The room immediately became chaos.

Stylists adjusted my dress. Someone fixed my makeup. Someone else arranged my veil. Voices overlapped until I could barely hear myself think.

Through all of it, one thought kept repeating in my head.

Who meets her husband for the first time at the altar?

The answer was me.

Twenty minutes later, I stood outside the chapel doors.

The veil covered most of my face.

The bridal march played, and guests filled the entire hall.

Father appeared beside me. He offered his arm which I grudgingly hooked unto.

“You look beautiful.”

The compliment sounded hollow coming from him.

I said nothing to that, and just moved along with him, because I wanted this nightmare over with.

The doors opened and every head turned. Together, we walked down the aisle.

Father leaned closer.

“I’m proud of you.” I still didn’t say anything, and allowed him add. “You should continue upholding the Moretti family name.”

Even at this moment, all that mattered to him was his empire, and duty.

I smiled beneath the veil, but there was nothing sweet about it.

“You should be proud.”

He glanced toward me.

“I managed to make it all the way down the aisle without shoving you away.”

His eyes widened, not expecting that comeback. I felt strangely satisfied. He finally shut up.

We reached the altar, and I looked up.

Every coherent thought vanished.

Because the man standing before me was not what I expected. Not even close.

The photograph hadn’t done him justice.

He was taller than anyone I’d ever seen. Broad shoulders beneath the tuxedo that looked like it wanted to burst from the muscles beneath.

The scar near his jaw somehow made him look even better instead of worse.

And those eyes.

God.

Those eyes.

They reeked danger, and were even colder and intimidating in reality.

The worst part was that even though he was thirty-three, and ten years older than me, he could pass as a man in his mid twenties.

For one embarrassing second, I forgot to breathe.

Then his gaze met mine.

The spell shattered immediately.

Because there was absolutely nothing warm inside those eyes.

Even though this marriage was arranged, I hadn’t anticipated such an apathetic reaction.

The ceremony began. As priest spoke and I barely heard any of it.

My attention kept drifting toward the man beside me.

I wondered what he was thinking. I wondered if he hated this as much as I did. I wondered if he even wanted to be here.

Eventually it was time for the vows.

The traditional words sounded strange leaving my mouth.

“I do.”

Izaak said the same, his voice a low bass that sent a shiver down my spine. “I do.”

We exchanged rings, and when I slipped the ring unto his finger, his hands felt inhumanly cold.

The priest smiled.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it is my honor to present Mr. And Mrs. Volkov.”

Polite applause erupted around the room.

Mrs. Volkov. I hated the sound of it already.

Then came the final part.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

I turned toward Izaak, everyone else did too. Waiting for him to move.

Instead, he turned away from me, his face completely stone-cold.

“No.”

The entire hall fell silent. Even the priest looked confused.

“Pardon?”

Izaak slowly turned toward him. His face remained completely unreadable.

Then he repeated himself even louder. “No.”

Whispers immediately spread through the crowd.

I felt heat flood my face. Humiliation thrummed through me.

The priest laughed nervously. “Um, Mr Volkov, it’s part of the ceremony.”

The whispers grew louder.

I stared at my new husband. Unable to understand what was happening.

Then for the first time all day, Izaak looked directly at me.

And somehow that made the mortification worse.

Because there was no affection in his gaze. No curiosity, nor the slightest hint of attraction.

Just cold indifference.

His eyes swept over me.

“I have no intention of kissing a woman who was forced on me.”

A gasp rippled through the chapel. I felt every pair of eyes in the room shift toward me.

I stood, struggling to come up with a response. Before I could open my mouth, he continued, with a deadly calm tone.

“I agreed to an alliance. I never agreed to a bride.”