All Chapters of The Forced Bride: Chapter 1 - Chapter 8

This was supposed to be the start of something new. At least that’s what I kept telling myself as I walked down the hallway of the Martin’s mansion in my wedding dress. The heavy fabric brushing against the carpet with every step. Soft, breathy moans drifted from the honeymoon suite ahead. I stopped. The sound cut through the quiet like a warning. Then came the slow, rhythmic creak of the bed. My fingers tightened around the bouquet. It can’t be what it sounds like. But the moans continued. Low. Intimate. Familiar. I moved closer. Arthur’s deep voice rumbled through the door. “I still don’t understand why they chose your sister over you, for me when you are this good.” Elena’s breathless laugh answered. “Stop talking about her and go faster, Arthur… please.” My chest twisted painfully. I hesitated, hand hovering near the doorknob, then pushed the door open. The sight hit me like a punch. My husband had my sister bent over the edge of the bed, her pink dress bunched arou

The next three days disappeared in a blur of relentless activity. From sunrise to late evening, people surrounded me without a single moment to breathe. Dress designers measured every inch of my body, pinning expensive lace against my skin and arguing over tiny details as if I were a mannequin. Florists arrived in waves, carrying thousands of white roses, orchids, and lilies until the Martin’s mansion smelled like a luxury garden. Workers hung crystal chandeliers, rolled out imported carpets, and polished every surface until it gleamed. Everyone was excited. Everyone except me. The wedding wasn’t about love. It was about business, saving my family’s failing restaurant through this alliance with the Martin’s. On the morning of the ceremony, I stood before a full-length mirror while two makeup artists applied the final touches. The woman staring back looked beautiful. The white gown hugged my figure perfectly, long lace sleeves covering my arms while tiny crystals sparkled with eve

Arthur’s voice cut through the silence behind me. “And where do you think you’re going?” I froze with my hand on the garden door handle. My heart slammed against my ribs. Slowly, I turned around. His eyes moved over me, the gown, the small bag in my hand, my bare feet. He didn’t look angry. Just… calm. “Don't make me repeat myself, Sophie.” I swallowed hard. “I… I needed some air.” He started walking toward me. Each step was steady. Unhurried. I backed up until my back touched the door. He stopped just close enough that I could smell whiskey and his cologne. “Air?” He glanced at the bag in my hand, then back at my face. “Still on your wedding dress?” Before I could answer, he reached out and took my wrist. Not hard, but firm enough that I couldn’t pull away. “Come with me.” He turned and started walking. I had no choice but to follow. My legs felt weak as we moved down the hallway. Every closed door we passed made my stomach tighten. He stopped at the quiet guest room

The figure leaned over the bed. Cold air brushed my face, but the scent that came with it was wrong. Not Arthur's sharp cologne. Something softer. Sandalwood mixed with faint tobacco. A warm voice spoke near my ear, low and calm. "Don't scream." I kept still, my lungs locking in my chest. The man studied my face in the dark like he was examining something rare he had already decided to keep. I could hear the dark smile lingering in his breathing. Then he straightened, turned, and left the way he came. The door closed without a sound. I did not move until the house settled completely back into silence. Sitting up, I pulled the sheet tight against my chest and stared at the dark doorway. Every tiny creak of the floorboards made my stomach turn. He had walked into a locked room, stood over me in the dark, and vanished into the shadows like a ghost. I stayed awake until dawn, watching that door with my mind racing. By first light, the heavy lock on the corridor door clicked from th