“You’ll look beautiful walking down the aisle toward me.” Rafael’s voice is smooth, almost too smooth, as he brushes his fingers against Elena’s lips. The touch is possessive, lingering, as if marking her, staking his claim.
Elena freezes for a moment, her breath catching at the way his eyes glimmer with something dark, something possessive. But she quickly schools her face, letting a soft smile play at the corners of her mouth. On the outside, she looks every bit the bride he expects her to be—calm, collected, resigned. Inside, though, her heart is a storm. She’s so close. Just a little longer, and she’ll be free.
The wedding is mere hours away. She can feel the weight of the dress pressing down on her, not just physically, but emotionally, as it feels like a shackle rather than the symbol of joy it’s meant to be. She pulls at the lace nervously, but Rafael’s hand still lingers too close, his thumb gently tracing the outline of her lips as if savoring the moment. He’s always so close now. He won’t let her out of his sight. Not even for a second.
She wants to pull away, to tell him to stop, but that’s not an option. Not now. Not yet.
“Thank you,” Elena says quietly, trying to keep her voice steady, though it trembles just a little as she forces the words out. "I’m honored."
The words feel like poison in her mouth, but they’re necessary. Rafael grins, pleased by her obedience, and leans down to press a soft kiss to her forehead. Elena stiffens but doesn’t flinch. She’s learned the art of pretending, of masking the storm inside. She’s played the role of the docile fiancée for weeks now—this is no different.
She watches him as he moves around the room, checking every detail of the wedding preparations. The flowers are arranged exactly as he wants them. The caterers are prepared, waiting for the signal. Everything, from the music to the seating chart, is perfect—at least, according to Rafael’s standards. He’s been controlling every aspect of the ceremony, taking full charge as though this was his world, and she was simply a part of the decor.
And in a way, that’s exactly how he sees her. As an object. Something to be shown off. A prize to be claimed.
Elena swallows hard, her mind racing. Every fiber of her being is screaming at her to fight back, to escape, to get out of this mess. But the truth is, she’s stuck. She can’t leave. She can’t run. Not yet. Not when Rafael is watching her every move, not when he’s got everything locked down so tightly.
The silence between them stretches as he inspects the final touches. Elena watches his back, her heart pounding in her chest. She knows she has only one chance to escape, and that moment is coming soon. She can feel it. Every instinct tells her that tonight will be the night. Tonight, she will either be trapped forever or free.
Rafael finally turns around to face her, his eyes catching hers. “I’m so glad you’ve accepted your fate, Elena,” he says, his tone almost mocking, though there’s a twisted satisfaction in his smile. “It’s going to be perfect.”
Elena smiles back, though it’s thin and forced. “I’m sure it will,” she replies, keeping her voice steady. Her heart races in her chest, and she feels the familiar weight of the ring on her finger, as if it’s grown heavier with every passing day.
Rafael eyes her carefully, narrowing his gaze, as if trying to see through her facade. “You look perfect today, mi amor,” he says, his voice soft, but with an edge that makes Elena’s stomach churn. “Are you ready for the wedding? Ready to be mine in every way?”
Elena forces herself to nod, though she feels like her body is on fire with the need to escape. “Yes, I’m ready.”
But she’s not. She’s not ready to marry him. She’s not ready to give up her life, her freedom. The thought of walking down the aisle toward him makes her stomach turn. But she’s going through the motions. She’s pretending.
A soft knock sounds at the door, and one of Rafael’s men steps inside. His eyes flicker briefly to Elena before he speaks to Rafael in a low voice. “Everything is ready for the ceremony, boss. We’re just waiting for you.”
Rafael nods, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. “Good. Let’s get this over with.” He turns to Elena, his eyes narrowing slightly. “We’ll be married soon, and then we can begin our life together. I’ll take care of everything from here on out. You’ll never have to worry again.”
Elena’s insides twist at the thought. She knows what that means. He wants to control everything about her life—who she sees, what she does, where she goes. He wants to own her. She has no illusions about what this marriage will be like.
But there’s still hope. There’s always hope. And Alexander...
Her mind flashes to the message she received earlier, a secret, hidden in the folds of her dress where Rafael can’t see. It’s from Alexander.
“I’m coming for you.”