The Heiress They treated like a Servant

Celine’s POV

I stood in front of the massive, gold-framed mirror and turned very slowly. I watched the thick white silk catch the soft light of the bridal boutique. The dress was absolutely stunning. It was everything I had dreamed about since I was sixteen years old. I ran my shaking fingers over the hand-stitched lace on the bodice. A long train pooled behind me on the velvet floor like fresh, untouched snow. Every single tiny bead was placed by hand. It was a true piece of art.

Tomorrow, I was going to marry Kyle Steel.

We had spent an entire year planning this perfect day. The expensive flowers, the live music, the massive cake—everything was finally ready. Tomorrow, I was going to be his wife.

So why did my chest feel so painfully tight? Why was it so hard to breathe in this beautiful room?

"It fits you perfectly, Miss Celine," the young salesgirl said, smiling at me through the mirror. "You look like an absolute angel."

"Thank you, Lily," I said. My voice sounded thin and hollow.

Why did my hands keep shaking? No matter how many times I pressed them flat against the smooth, cool fabric of my skirt, the trembling just would not stop.

I told myself it was just regular nerves. Every bride gets nervous before the big day. That was completely normal. You are just overthinking things, Celine, I thought to myself.

But the heavy feeling sitting right in the pit of my stomach was not normal. It felt heavy and sick. It felt like something terrible was already on its way, and I just could not see it yet.

BANG.

The heavy wooden door of the dressing room slammed open so hard the large mirror rattled on the wall. The sudden, violent noise made me jump in terror.

Kyle stood in the doorway. His jaw was locked tight. His dark eyes were completely bloodshot. His chest was rising and falling in heavy, angry breaths.

And the way he looked at me was not the way a man looks at the woman he is about to marry. It was not a look of love, excitement, or warmth.

It was the way a man looks at something he wants to destroy.

"Kyle? What's wrong? Why are you here?"

He crossed the room in three long, quick steps. Before I could even raise my hands, he grabbed my throat and shoved me backward into the wall. My skull cracked against the hard plaster. White sparks exploded across my vision, blinding me for a second.

"You filthy little whore."

His thick fingers squeezed tighter around my neck. I clawed at his wrist, gasping loudly for air. My feet were barely touching the ground. The expensive silk of my dress bunched up around my waist.

"Kyle, stop! What are you doing? You are hurting me!"

"Shut your mouth!"

He shoved his phone right into my face with his free hand.

On the bright screen, a video was playing. A woman, completely naked, tangled in white hotel sheets with a tall man. The man's face was turned away from the camera. But the camera was angled just right to show the woman's face clearly.

My face.

The audio was loud in the quiet shop. The man's voice was deep, hot, and teasing.

"Do you like that, baby? Tell me how much you want it. Tell me I am better than him."

"More. Please, give me more. It feels so good."

"That's a good girl. Beg for it."

I stared at the screen in pure shock. My heart stopped beating. The man beneath me on the screen moved, and I clearly saw a dark, butterfly-shaped birthmark on his right shoulder.

"You want to explain this to me, Celine? Or should I just let everybody in this shop watch it for themselves? Because guess what, baby? They already have."

Loud gasps echoed around the room. I looked past Kyle's shoulder. The other women in the shop—the brides, the mothers, the workers—were all staring at us. A few of them pulled out their phones, looking at their own screens.

"Oh my God, that is her. That's the Blackwood girl."

"I saw it on my feed five minutes ago. The video is everywhere."

"It's not what you think! Kyle, I swear to God, I don't know who that man is! I don't remember any of this happening!"

"You don't remember spreading your legs for another man the night before our wedding?"

His voice was so cold it didn't even sound like him anymore. This was not the sweet man who kissed me yesterday.

But the terrible video, the hot and teasing words, the sight of that messy hotel room—it cracked something open in my head. A hidden memory pushed through the dark fog. It was broken and blurry, like looking through shattered glass.

My bachelorette party. The crowded bar downtown. The loud music pumping through the floor.

Jia had been with me. My best friend.

"Drink up, Celine. Tonight is your last night of freedom. Let's make it hot and wild. Drink the whole thing."

I remembered taking a long sip of the bright pink drink. The sweet taste on my tongue. And I remember feeling so incredibly dizzy a few minutes after that. The room started spinning fast. My skin was burning hot like I had a terrible fever. I could not stand up straight. Someone took my arm. A man's voice said I needed to lie down. A door opened. A large bed in a dark room.

And then, nothing. Empty darkness.

I woke up the next morning completely naked, all alone, and hurting in places that made my stomach turn over. I didn't know what happened. I didn't know who was in that room with me. I was too scared and ashamed to tell Kyle. I thought I had just drank too much and fallen asleep.

"See? You can't even deny it."

He let go of my throat. I stumbled forward, choking and holding my neck, trying to pull air into my burning lungs.

"The whole internet has seen this video, Celine. Every single person in this city knows exactly what you did."

"I was drugged! Someone did this to me, Kyle. You have to believe me! Please, just listen to me for one second."

"Kyle, look at me. Look into my eyes. Do you really think I would do this? We have been together for three years!"

"Three years of a joke."

He fixed his expensive shirt cuffs calmly, like he was completely bored of me already.

"The only thing I am going to do is cancel this damn wedding. We are done."

A woman near the entrance covered her mouth and laughed cruelly.

"I always thought she looked like the type. All that money and no class at all."

Another one shook her head in disgust.

"Imagine doing that the night before your own wedding. She is worse than an animal."

"She is disgusting. Like a cockroach crawling out of a dirty sewer in a white dress."

Every single word hit me like a hard slap to the face. The humiliation burned my skin like acid.

But I didn't care about them. I didn't care about their nasty words or their pointing fingers. The only person who mattered in the whole world was turning his back and walking away from me.

"Kyle, wait! Please don't leave me!"

I rushed forward. I grabbed the back of his dark jacket with both hands.

He spun around furiously. He shoved me so hard with both hands that I flew sideways through the air. My hip caught the sharp edge of the wooden dressing table. I went down hard. My head smashed right against the sharp corner.

A loud crack echoed in my ears.

Something warm and wet ran down the side of my temple.

Blood.

I touched it with shaking fingers. I stared at the bright red smear covering my pale hand.

But even that didn't matter. The sharp pain in my head didn't matter. Nothing mattered except making him stay. I had to make him understand the truth.

I pulled myself up off the floor. My arms were weak and trembling. The wedding dress was so heavy it felt like it was trying to drag me down to the ground. My head was pounding like a hammer. My vision kept going in and out of focus, making the bright lights blur.

Hot blood dripped from my face onto the white lace. It bloomed like tiny red roses across the clean fabric.

I looked up. He was already out the door.

"Kyle!"

I grabbed the thick hem of my ruined dress with both hands. I lifted it and ran after him. I stumbled blindly through the fancy shop. I ran past the whispering women, past the salesgirl who looked at me with deep pity, past the heavy glass doors, and out into the blinding, bright afternoon sun.

His big black car was already pulling away from the curb.

"Kyle! Kyle!"

I ran. I ran down the hard sidewalk in that ruined dress with blood on my face and tears blurring everything around me. I chased the red taillights of his car down the busy street like some pathetic, broken thing that simply did not know when to stop.

Because I couldn't stop.

If I stopped running, it meant this horrible nightmare was real. It meant the man I had loved for years just threw me away like I was nothing.

And I was not ready to believe that. Not yet.