Oops! I Am My Bully's Bride

“Marceline, please, just put the wedding dress on. We don’t have time for this.” Her mother’s voice cracked the second the door shut. She shoved the heavy white gown into Marceline’s arms before the butler even finished unloading the single suitcase. What? No!" Marceline answered, half confused. The silk felt cold and stiff against Marceline’s skin, nothing like the soft practice clothes she usually wore. She stood frozen on the marble steps of the Moretti estate, the invitation still crumpled in her other hand. After six years in the countryside she had expected awkward silence or maybe a polite hug. She had not expected panic. Inside the grand foyer her twin sister sat on the bottom stair in a thin slip, mascara running in dark lines down her cheeks. Marina rocked back and forth, arms locked around her knees. Their father paced near the tall windows, phone pressed hard to his ear, muttering numbers that made the color drain from his face. “She’s refusing,” her moth

A few Years later... Marceline learned the rules of the Cross estate quickly. And she learnt to accept her family's biggest lie, the contract was nevef for a year. It was the biggest trap shed faced. Speak only when spoken to and to keep her eyes down in the hallways. She remembered her grandma's teachings as she was growing up, rich people liked being above..Hence never cross them. She learnt the house rules like the back of her hand....like to never enter Adrian’s study without permission. The servants moved like ghosts, answering questions with single words and vanishing the moment their tasks were finished. No one asked about the thin scar on her upper arm or the way she still favored it when the weather turned cold. Adrian never mentioned the bullet either. He simply left for business trips that lasted weeks, sometimes months, and returned with the same cold expression he had worn at the altar. The Cross family made their disappointment clear. At every formal

Marceline locked the bedroom door with shaking hands and leaned against it. The tears came hard and fast. She slid down to the floor, her blue dress pooling around her heavily swollen belly, and pressed both palms over her mouth so the sound would not carry into the hallway. Four years. She had given four years of her life to a man who looked at her like furniture. She had practiced in secret until her slightly crippled arm burned, applied to the Paris dance academy hoping for a chance, and still ended up here...mockery in the sitting room, cold eyes from her own husband, and a family that treated her like a borrowed object. “I should have run that day,“ she thought, rocking slightly. “I should have left the dress on the floor and taken the next train back to Grandma’s farm.. I would be dancing by now surrounded by real music. Not this.“ She had overheard the aunts two weeks earlier in the garden. “That arm will never work properly again...Adrian shot her good. The doctors s

Marceline paused in the doorway of the bedroom, one hand resting lightly on the frame. Adrian was now standing next to her with nothing but a dark towel around his waist. Water still clung to his shoulders and traced slow paths down the inked lines of his chest. “Don’t forget the Romano project report,” she said, her voice calm and even. “It’s due tomorrow morning. The projections on page fourteen are still off by almost two percent. You’ll need to correct them before the meeting.” Adrian froze. His fingers tightened on the edge of the towel. He had expected tears, accusations, or at least a sharp question about the woman currently waiting in his home office. Instead she spoke about contracts and numbers as if they were the only things that existed between them. “That’s really all you have to say to me right now?” he asked, staring at her. “I’m standing here in a towel. Victoria is in my office. And you’re reminding me about a report?” Marceline adjusted the soft cardigan

Adrian’s smirk lingered as he looked up the staircase. He dug his hands in his pockets, barely looking at the women he had brought home. The three women from the club stood behind him, still shifting and whispering. Victoria remained near the study door, arms crossed. He expected fire. He expected Marceline to come down already raising her voice. He expected her to break out of her shell, because he couldn't believe a woman could have such composure even when faced with the worst. And instead her voice floated down, it was so calm.. “Adrian…It's good you're back. Can you grab me a glass of water?” He blinked. “Water? That’s it?” Victoria let out a high pitched annoying laugh, as she flipped her hair. “Oh, this is rich. She’s too fat and lazy to walk down the stairs and get it herself? Look at her standing up there like she owns the place. Pregnancy turned her into a complete freeloader.” Adrian's heart almost ached at the words, he wanted to scold Victoria. Because at th