Chapter Three

Amelia’s POV

My breath hitched. Who the hell would be sending me such a message?

I lifted my eyes, only to lock gazes with a pair of piercing green ones. God, I almost peed my pants. This man… he had a dangerous aura. Everything about him screamed danger. And yet, he was dangerously handsome.

His green tuxedo fit him like a second skin, making him look like he had just stepped out of a magazine cover. My eyes betrayed me, roaming his body until they landed on his chest, where one button was undone, exposing a glimpse of firm muscles dusted with dark hair.

I tore my gaze away, shoved my phone into my purse, and forced my spine straight. Whoever sent that message could come lick my ass. I was going through with this wedding.

My legs trembled, my palms slick with sweat. Mum must have noticed, because she slipped her hand into mine. Her grip was warm, offering a sliver of comfort. I breathed a little easier.

Slowly, I walked toward the priest… and toward him.

The world seemed to freeze, as though everyone else had disappeared, leaving just me and my soon-to-be husband. His eyes never left me, scrutinizing every inch, as if he could already see through my family’s lies and deceptions.

With my heart in my throat, I took that deadly step closer.

The priest began, speaking about love, commitment, the sanctity of marriage. His words slid over me like water against stone. None of it mattered. Not until I heard the words that made my stomach twist.

“Do you take Justin De Russella as your lawfully wedded husband, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer?”

The hall grew silent. My voice, my choice, suddenly seemed like the only thing holding my family’s fate together.

After what felt like an eternity, I muttered a shaky, “Yes.”

The priest nodded, then turned to Justin. He answered quickly, firmly, like a man eager to throw me into the abyss of his ruthlessness.

“Good. Now exchange your rings.”

The rings were handed to us. When I held mine, my breath caught, it sparkled with the kind of brilliance that screamed millions. For a moment, temptation clawed at me. Should I run away with it? Sell it, start a new life? No. Too risky.

I slid the ring onto his slender finger. His hands were clean, strong, perfectly manicured. When he picked up mine, his fingers brushed my skin, sending an involuntary jolt of electricity racing through me. I masked it quickly, forcing my face into indifference.

“You may kiss your bride.”

The hell? I yelled in my head.

Why hadn’t I thought about this part? My lips belonged to Maxwell. The idea of letting this man claim them made my stomach churn.

I hesitated, but then cold lips brushed against mine. The kiss didn’t linger. Instead, he leaned close, his breath ghosting over my skin as he whispered:

“Behave, little wife.”

He pulled away, and I froze. Thank God for the veil, no one could see the storm of emotions twisting across my face.

Dad’s words kept echoing in my head like a curse.

Talk like her. Laugh like her. Behave like her.

This task wouldn’t be easy. It wasn’t just a wedding, it was a masquerade. I couldn’t be myself. I had to become my sister.

The problem? We were nothing alike.

I was gentle. She was sassy.

I was quiet. She was sharp-tongued.

I avoided the spotlight. She lived in it.

How long could I pretend before the mask slipped, and this dangerous man with green eyes uncovered the truth?

The session ended, and Mum hugged me with tears in her eyes. For the first time ever, I saw pain in Dad’s. That meant more to me than I could put into words. I hugged him too and bid them farewell. Whatever this was, I only prayed I would live long enough to see them again.

A warm hand slid against mine, making me freeze. I hated to admit it, but I liked the feel of Justin’s hand on mine, steady, commanding, inescapable.

“Time to go, wife,” he murmured, his tone low, unreadable.

My heart skipped. Go where? Reception? Or straight into the lion’s den?

His grip tightened, and without waiting for my reply, he led me toward the black limousine waiting outside. The crowd cheered, but I barely heard them. My pulse thundered in my ears.

Halfway to the car, I felt the vibration in my purse. My phone.

With trembling fingers, I sneaked a glance at the screen.

Unknown Number: “The wedding was the easy part. Tonight, you’ll learn what marrying your doom truly means.”

My knees buckled, but Justin’s grip only tightened as he shoved me gently into the car beside him. His green eyes cut into mine, sharp and dangerous.

Who the hell is sending this message is watching me and I think I need to dig out some information.

Justin entered the car through the other side, and the engine roared to life. The driver pressed the accelerator, and we zoomed off, leaving behind the cheers of the wedding ceremony and driving straight into uncertainty.

When we finally pulled into the estate, my jaw dropped. Mansion wasn’t the right word. This was a fortress dripping with wealth and intimidation. Every corner screamed power. The paintings were shades of black and brown, cold and imposing, exactly what I expected from a ruthless man.

Then my eyes landed on the garage. I froze. Rows upon rows of sleek, gleaming cars stretched before me. Was this an automobile company? Even the president wouldn’t own this many cars.

The driver parked, and I stepped down, my gaze immediately softening at the sight of the garden. At least there was something here I could love, something alive, something that didn’t suffocate me with danger.

A line of maids and guards stood waiting. They bowed their heads in greeting. My throat was too tight for words, so I merely nodded, following Justin up the golden staircase that felt more like a path to the gallows than a home.

He led me into a bedroom. The bed was massive, the walls adorned with dark, expensive paintings. My eyes wandered, clinging to details to distract myself from the reality of being alone with him.

Then his voice cut through the silence like a blade.

“Strip, wife.”

My head snapped toward him, blood rushing to my ears.

“The hell?” I whispered under my breath.

His eyes narrowed, unreadable, predatory. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, as if he had all the time in the world.

“I said strip. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

My breath hittch. This wasn’t a request, it was an order.