The Billionaire’s Forgotten Bride

Amelia POV

The woman in the mirror looked nothing like the person I once dreamed of becoming. Dream? Did I just say dream? It was something I couldn’t afford.

 

I hardly recognized the woman before me, her—eyes swollen and rimmed red, hair tangled from restless nights, and a face that held no joy. I had become a shadow of myself, and today was no different. Today, I would take one more step down a path I never chose.

 

I stared at the simple, ivory wedding gown that hung on my slender frame. It wasn’t the gown of a bride anticipating her happiest day, but a cold symbol of my captivity. My hands trembled as I adjusted the veil. This wasn’t how I imagined my wedding day—no laughter, no love, no one to hold my hand and tell me it would be okay. Just the suffocating silence and the crushing weight of duty.

 

“Amelia!” My mother’s sharp voice snapped me out of my thoughts. “Stop dawdling and get out here. You don’t want to embarrass yourself more than you already do.”

 

I flinched at her words, as I always did, and hurried to the door. Margaret Hayes never missed an opportunity to remind me how little she thought of me. I opened the door to find her standing there, her critical eyes scanning me from head to toe.

 

“You’ll do,” she said dismissively, before turning on her heel. “And don’t you dare embarrass me in front of Maxwell’s family?”

 

I bit my tongue, swallowing the sharp words I longed to say. What would be the point? My mother had decided my fate, and there was no escaping it now.

 

Lisa’s voice echoed down the hall, sharp and full of mockery. “I still can’t believe you’re going through with this, Amelia. I mean, marrying him? What’s the matter? No decent man could ever want you, so you settled for… well, that? It’s understandable though!”

 

Her friends erupted into laughter, their voices like nails scraping against my skin. I clenched my fists but said nothing. Lisa thrived on my silence. If I ignored her, maybe she would get bored and stop.

 

But she didn’t.

 

“Just wait until you see him up close,” Lisa sneered, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. “You’ll understand why they call him the ‘Beast of Cole Industries.’”

 

I forced myself to keep walking, head held high. Or at least as high as I could manage. If I let her see me falter, it would only fuel her cruelty.

 

The church was packed. Rows of strangers turned to watch me as I entered, their eyes a mix of curiosity and maybe….pity. My legs felt like lead as I walked down the aisle, Margaret clutching my arm like a vise.

 

And then I saw him.

 

Maxwell Cole stood at the altar, his towering frame clad in a sharp black suit that seemed to emphasize his intimidating presence. His face was hard, the scar running down his left cheek only adding to his severity. His green eyes locked onto me with a piercing intensity that made my stomach churn.

 

Lisa hadn’t been lying. He was older—far older than I had imagined—and the limp in his stride was unmistakable as he shifted his weight. He looked every bit the ruthless billionaire the tabloids described, a man who consumed everything in his path.

 

And now, he would consume me too.

 

I wanted to run. My feet itched to turn around and bolt out of the church, but Margaret’s iron grip on my arm kept me rooted. The whispers among the guests were deafening, though I couldn’t make out the words. Were they pitying me? Laughing at me? Judging me? Did they know that I was nothing more than a pawn in my mother’s schemes?

 

The priest’s voice broke through the haze. “We are gathered here today to witness the union of Maxwell Cole and Amelia Hayes…”

 

My heart hammered in my chest as the ceremony began, each word blurring together into a meaningless hum. Maxwell’s gaze never left me, his expression unreadable but intimidating. Did he hate this as much as I did? Or was he simply indifferent, like everyone else in my life?

 

When the priest turned to him and said, “Maxwell Cole, do you take Amelia Hayes to be your lawfully wedded wife?” my breath caught.

 

For a fleeting moment, I thought he might say no. That he might refuse this farce of a marriage and set me free. But instead, his deep, gravelly voice cut through the silence.

 

“I do.”

 

It was my turn now. The priest’s words swirled around me, but I couldn’t focus. All I could see was Maxwell’s scarred face, his cold eyes boring into mine.

 

“Amelia Hayes, do you take Maxwell Cole to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

 

I hesitated, my throat dry and tight. Every fiber of my being screamed at me to say no. To run. To fight. But what would be the point? Margaret would drag me back, and Maxwell… Maxwell would likely ensure I paid for the embarrassment.

 

“I… I do,” I whispered, the words barely audible.

 

The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur. Before I knew it, a ring was on my finger, and Maxwell’s lips brushed against mine in a cold, perfunctory kiss. There was no tenderness, no warmth—just an icy detachment that made my skin crawl.

 

As we left the church, I stole one last glance over my shoulder, hoping for some sign that this wasn’t real. And just maybe, this once, I hoped that someone would come and save me. But the doors closed behind us, sealing my fate.

 

The car ride to Maxwell’s mansion was silent. I sat rigidly in my seat, staring out the window as the city blurred past. Maxwell didn’t say a word, his presence was as overwhelming as it was silent.

 

When we arrived, his mother, Rebecca, greeted us with a cold smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Welcome home, Amelia,” she said, her tone laced with disdain.

 

Home.

 

The word felt like a cruel joke. This wasn’t a home. It was a prison, and I was its newest inmate.

 

As I stood in the grand foyer, the weight of my decision crashed down on me. I had traded one cruel family for another, and there was no escaping this time.

 

Tears pricked my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me break. Not yet.

 

Later that night, as I stood before the mirror in the guest room—my room—I traced the wedding ring on my finger, the cold metal biting into my skin.

 

“How did it come to this?” I whispered to my reflection.

 

But the woman staring back at me had no answers. Only fear, regret, and a flicker of something I hadn’t felt in years.

 

Hope.