Then, just before we reached the church, a man approached me. He moved swiftly, slipping into the car before the guards could react.
He didn’t say much.
Just held up a photo.
My breath caught in my throat.
It was my family.
Tied up. Eyes wide with terror.
"If you try to run, if you do anything stupid," the man whispered, "Bryant won’t hesitate to kill them."
My stomach dropped. I wanted to scream, to fight, to tear this dress off and disappear. But I couldn’t.
I couldn’t risk their lives.
So I walked down the aisle, silent and obedient.
The church was packed with powerful people—investors, politicians, business moguls. Men who controlled the world with their wealth and influence. They all watched as I took slow, measured steps toward my captor.
Bryant stood at the altar, looking as handsome and arrogant as ever in his tailored suit. His dark eyes gleamed with victory.
I felt like I was walking toward my execution.
The ceremony was a blur. I barely heard the priest’s words. My body was ice-cold, my hands trembling in Bryant’s grip. And then—
"You may now kiss the bride."
My lips were claimed by a man I despised. His grip was firm, possessive, as he sealed my fate in front of everyone.