On the aisle

Sofia POV

As I walked down the aisle with my father's arm linked through mine, my eyes glistened with tears as I looked at the man waiting for me at the altar.

"Dad..." My voice came out shaky as I tried not to trip over my heels with the anxiety burning through me. "Why did you do this to me?"

"He's not bad, Sofia. He'll take care of you." He gave me a tight smile.

"More like I'll be taking care of him," I bit back harshly.

"Behave, Sofia. People are watching."

How in the hell was I supposed to behave?

The world was about to watch me marry a man who didn't just have a pot belly. He was older than my father, used a walking stick, and could barely stand on his own without the two bodyguards planted on either side of him.

The worst part?

He was smiling.

Actually smiling.

Like he'd just won the biggest prize of his life.

I tightened my grip around the stupid bouquet in my hands.

I hated roses.

I preferred lilies.

But of course none of this had been planned with me.

I glanced around the hall. There couldn't have been more than twenty guests. My father, my mother, Emily, and a few people from our side. That was it. Even Chloe wasn't here.

The rest of the guests belonged to my soon-to-be husband. Men and women around his age, dressed in expensive clothes, chatting amongst themselves like this was some ordinary afternoon gathering instead of a wedding.

Not a single familiar face looked excited for me.

Because there was nothing to be excited about.

The past two days I'd cried over and over again, thinking about the possibilities of what my life would become.

Dad wrote me a beautiful handwritten letter, telling me how much he loved me and cared about me. That was basically the reason I agreed to go through with this.

But looking at the man waiting at the altar now...

Every part of me screamed to run.

The short white dress hugged my body way too tightly, barely covering my ass. My father said my husband had personally picked it out for me.

He was a pervert. There was no way I should be wearing something like this to my own wedding, but then again, this was more like a giveaway than a marriage.

We finally reached the altar. My husband's frail, spotted arm stretched out toward me. I winced at the sight of his wrinkled, liver-spotted fingers. My chest throbbed with a dull ache. How long will I have to stay married to this man? Maybe I should just kill him and inherit his fortune.

God, none of this was funny.

My father nudged my side slightly, urging me to take his hand. I looked up at my father through a blur of tears, shaking my head as I mouthed, "Dad, please."

Murmurs rippled through the pews. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Emily right beside Mum, practically biting her head off for allowing this to happen. I knew it was tradition in our family to marry whoever Dad chose, but I was supposed to be his favorite child. I expected a rich, handsome billionaire—not an old man on the verge of death who was definitely going to die in my hands.

There was no point in pulling back now. I placed my palm in my husband’s hand. He took it and gently pressed a soft, lingering kiss to my knuckles.

Eww. Fucking eww.

I stared blankly at the priest as he began reading the vows. I couldn't believe a holy man was standing here watching this nightmare unfold. Just how much had they paid him?

The priest smiled at us before opening the Bible in his hands.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony..."

His voice faded into the background.

I wasn't listening anymore.

I was too busy wondering how my life had gone downhill so fast.

A week ago, I was worrying about what to wear to college.

Now I was standing at the altar beside a man old enough to be my grandfather.

Life is funny.

The priest finally looked up.

The priest cleared his throat. "Do you, Rico Drake, take Sofia Ross as your lawfully wedded wife...?"

Rico Drake. Just great. I had to find out my own husband’s name at the altar on my wedding day. How fairytale of us.

"I do," Rico croaked in a raspy, papery voice.

The priest turned his gaze to me. "And do you, Sofia Ross, take Rico Drake as your lawfully wedded husband...?"

The silence dragged. My throat felt like sandpaper. I hesitated, my jaw clenched so tight it hurt, before grumbling out a bitter, low, "I do."

"May we have the rings?"

One of the bodyguards stepped forward, holding out a small velvet box.

Of course his bodyguard was carrying the rings.

I watched as my soon-to-be husband struggled to take mine out. His wrinkled fingers trembled so much that one of the bodyguards had to help him.

My skin crawled as he grabbed my left hand, sliding the ring onto my finger. It felt icy cold against my skin, like a shackle locking me into this prison.

I took the second ring from the velvet cushion with numb fingers. Looking down at his hand, I had to physically force myself to touch him. I quickly shoved the band onto his ring finger, instantly recoiling my hand back to my side the second it was on.

"With these rings, I now pronounce you husband and wife," the priest declared. "You may now kiss the bride."

My heart stuttered hard against my ribs. I think I’m going to be sick.

The bodyguards on either side of Rico shifted him forward. He leaned heavily on his walking stick, attempting to balance his frail frame as he shuffled toward me. His hand reached out for my chin, and I flinched violently—a reaction that was completely visible to every single guest in the room.

I squeezed my eyes shut, taking a shallow breath. The old man's dry palm rested on my cheek.

"My beautiful wife," he rasped, leaning in. His mouth parted, releasing a heavy, suffocating wave of stale cigarette smoke. I couldn't believe he still smoked at his age.

I kept my eyes squeezed tight as his face drew closer. "Please don't kiss me," I whispered through my teeth.

Somebody kill me.

The exact second Rico's breath ghosted over my lips, pure chaos erupted.

A loud bang echoed through the hall as the church doors flew open. Masked men stormed inside with guns raised.

"Nobody move!"

Screams erupted around the church. My mother shrieked, guests threw themselves to the floor, and Emily grabbed frantically onto Mum.

"What the hell is going on?" someone shouted.

My father stepped in front of us. "What do you people want?"

Before I could even process what was happening, a pair of strong arms grabbed me from behind.

"What are you doing? Let me go!" I screamed, kicking wildly.

I was thrown over one of their shoulders like I weighed nothing.

"Put me down! Dad! Mum!" I thrashed so hard my bouquet slipped from my fingers and fell to the floor.

"Sofia!" Emily screamed.

"Dad! Mum!" I cried again, reaching out for them as they carried me out of the church. No one could get to me—the masked men surrounded us with their guns raised, blocking any path.

Fresh tears streamed down my face as I kicked and fought. "LET ME GO!"

Outside, they threw me into the back of a waiting van. I scrambled backward across the floor, trying desperately to get away. "Please... please let me go."

One of the masked men pulled out a white cloth.

"No..."

He pressed it firmly over my nose and mouth. A strange, chemical smell filled my lungs.

"No... please..."

My body suddenly felt lead heavy. The last thing I heard was my mother's piercing scream before everything went completely black.