~Abigail's POV~
"Stop that," Taro grunts in irritation, and I freeze, my leg finally going still. His disapproving glare cuts through my thoughts, and I can't help but scoff, rolling my eyes before looking away.
"Are you giving me an attitude, Abigail?" he snaps, his voice sharp with anger.
My grip tightens around the folds of my wedding dress. A dress I hadn't even known existed until he presented it to me at four in the morning.
I had just returned from my best friend Alex's apartment, after spending the entire night crying and convincing her not to get involved in my mess of a life like showing up at the wedding to make a scene.
Now, as our car pulls into the church compound, I stare out the window, my stomach twisting. The place is crawling with press. Expensive cars line the driveway, cameras flashing as guests step out, smiling and waving like this is some royal event.
I can't believe Darius actually made this public.
It's bad enough that I'm being forced into this marriage but for it to be plastered across the media? For everyone to see that I, the lawyer who beat him in court just yesterday, am now marrying the same man I humiliated?
How the hell was Trevor going to see this? His own lawyer suddenly marrying the man who sued him?
Fuck. I hate this.
"Take us to the underground driveway," Taro suddenly tells the driver, who obeys without question, steering the car down to avoid public attention.
The forced bride.
When the car stops, Taro snarls, "Get out," while the driver rushes to open his door.
I step out, refusing to look at him, even as he moves to stand beside me like some overbearing guard. Two more cars pull up behind us, his men stepping out thick-necked, suited, and secretly armed like thugs.
We move inside, and my father quickly hands me over to a staff member, who leads me toward the bridal room.
From there, it's all hands on me. Powder dusting my face, my dress fluffed, my hair retouched by two women who don't say a word.
I sit still, silent, feeling more like a doll. An object being polished for display.
When they finish, one of the staff members gives me a polite smile.
"Do you need anything, Mrs. Rassais?"
My entire body stiffens. I glare at her. "It's Abigail."
Her eyes widen. She glances nervously at the other two women, who immediately avert their gazes either to hide their shock or their laughter. I don't care which.
"I apologize, Miss Abigail. Do you need anything? Water? Juice?" she asks again, her professional smile shaking.
"I'd like some walnuts," I say, keeping my voice deliberately slow. "Please."
"Yes ma'am!" She nods quickly, clueless, before hurrying out of the room.
A smile threatens to slip out, but I bite my lip to hide it. Rising from the chair, I walk to the full-length mirror to take a proper look at myself.
I actually look like a bride. The bride.
There's no trace of exhaustion on my face, no hint of the hollow ache clawing inside me. I don't even look sad... though I am.
I'm sad because I once dreamed of a calm garden wedding, surrounded by friends, sunlight, laughter. And Liam as my groom.
Liam, who I caught buried between his secretary's legs just last night.
"You look beautiful, Mrs. Rassais," one of the women who dressed me up says suddenly, her reflection beaming behind me. The other nods in agreement, both of them starry-eyed and proud of their work.
Mrs. Rassais.
Darius Rassais's bride.
I turn to them with a small, polite smile. "Thank you."
I'm about to ask about the walnuts when the door opens. The staff member from earlier walks in, handing me the bowl, but behind her enters a woman with sleek black hair streaked with elegant grey, her emerald eyes a brighter mirror of Darius's.
Sofia Rassais.
I've seen her in the media countless times, but those pictures did her no justice. The woman is breathtaking. Regal. Effortless. Dangerous.
"Oh, my dear!" she gushes, her voice melodic as a dimpled smile lights her face.
My heart jumps. I quickly set the bowl of walnuts on the table beside the mirror and step forward, forcing another smile as I go to greet her.
She takes my hands in hers, looking at me like I'm some kind of precious gem. "You look so gorgeous. I knew my son had great taste. I apologize for not coming earlier. I just arrived in the city."
She seems genuinely excited that her son is getting married.
If I tell her now that I was forced into this, would she still beam at me like this? Or would she curse her darling son?
I simply smile while she continues to glow with pride. She parts her lips to say something, but then her phone rings.
The moment she checks the screen, the smile fades from her face, and for a split second, I see Darius in her. That same cold, composed sharpness. But just as quickly, she replaces it with another practiced smile.
"I'll see you soon, my dear." She waves lightly and leaves the room, the scent of her perfume lingering long after she's gone.
I turn back to the table, pick up a walnut, and bite down hard. Then another. And another. The rhythm numbs me until the bowl sits empty like the pit in my chest.
The door opens again, and my father, Taro Nakamura, steps in.
"It's time to seal your marriage," he says flatly, completely ignoring the women in the room, who rush out immediately under his intimidating gaze.
"Bullshit," I hiss, giving him a twisted smile. "You're happy, aren't you? That I'm saving your miserable ass by paying off your debt to the Rassais in exchange for becoming their daughter-in-law."
"You're the one who should be happy," Taro says, walking toward me. I instinctively step back. A damned reflex I can never shake.
His grin widens as mine fades. "You're the one who's always dreamed of getting married. Too bad it's not with your Prince Charming."
"At least you won't get to kill me like you killed Mom."
I give him a flat look, and his eyes widen before rage floods them.
"How dare you…"
He raises his hand to slap me. I flinch, bracing for it but the blow never comes. Slowly, I open my eyes and see that he's actually restraining himself.
He drops his hand with a huff, then grabs my arm roughly, dragging me out of the room. When we reach the main hall, which is filled with guests and eager eyes, he finally lets go.
My whole body tenses, but Taro gives me a firm push, forcing me to start walking. He stays beside me like a shadow.
Camera flashes burst across the hall. Every gaze feels like a spotlight burning through my skin. I keep my eyes moving, refusing to meet anyone's too long until they land on the groom.
He stands at the end of the aisle, dressed like the devil in a tailored black suit, those hard green eyes locked on me.
I lick my lower lip slowly, holding his gaze.
Ready to say, I do.