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Elsa paused. She smoothed her daughter's hair and whispered, "He will. And if he doesn't… you will still walk away as his wife. That is why the Morpheus family arranged it this way—quietly, privately. There is nothing to fear."
Abigail's lips trembled. "How can they force him, if he doesn't want me?"
"Shhh." Elsa hushed her quickly. "He doesn't want any one, and don't forget—they are desperate for an heir. You are their only hope. Be strong."
The door creaked open again. Wilford entered, tall and dignified in a black suit. Abigail's eyes glistened, her heart swelling.
"Father…" She ran to embrace him.
"My beautiful daughter," he whispered, voice cracking.
She laughed softly through her tears. "You look so different. I barely recognize you."
"And your mother too," Wilford teased gently, pulling Elsa close.
They all sat together. Slowly, Wilford opened a small wooden box. "I have nothing grand to give you, my child. But I saved this… for today."
Inside gleamed a delicate necklace, a green pendant catching the light.
Abigail gasped. Her eyes blurred with tears. Memories crashed over her—years ago, staring at that very necklace in a shop window with her father, dreaming of the day he'd buy it.
She touched it with trembling fingers. "You remembered…"
Wilford's voice broke. "I promised you. And I always keep my promises."
Tears streamed freely down her cheeks. She hugged her parents tightly, her heart both breaking and blooming at once.
Elsa wiped her daughter's tears gently. "Don't cry, sweetheart. You'll ruin your makeup."
But Abigail couldn't stop. "I love you. I don't want to leave you."
Wilford's own tears betrayed him. "And I don't want to let you go."
Elsa's voice steadied them both. "We will visit you often. Everything will be fine. Today is not the end—it is the beginning."
The chamber filled with silence, broken only by their trembling breaths, as destiny knocked louder at the door.
MORPHEUS HOTEL – GRAND HALL
The Morpheus Hotel no longer looked like a hotel. Tonight, it had been reborn into a palace of gold and silver. Crystal chandeliers dripped light like diamonds across the marble floor, every surface gleaming as though wealth itself had come alive.
Yet the splendor felt hollow. No music swelled, no crowd whispered. Only seven souls occupied the grand hall — the two families, the priest, the pianist, and a trembling bride who felt more like a prisoner than a princess.
Behind the heavy double doors, Abigail stood frozen. Her veil shimmered like spilled starlight, but her hands shook violently as she clutched the bouquet. Her heart thudded so loudly she feared the others might hear it.
This is it… my future, she whispered to herself.
Elsa, her mother, kissed her forehead. "Be brave, my angel."
A deep voice intruded from behind. "Here comes the bride!"
Abigail turned sharply. Morpheus stood there, smiling like a man who owned not just the hall, but her very fate.
"Mr. Morpheus," Wilford greeted stiffly.
"Oh, come now, Wilford," Morpheus chuckled, his voice warm but heavy with authority. "We're about to become family. Call me Morpheus as usual." He looked at Abigail, his gaze sharp yet admiring. "You look stunning, princess."
She dipped her head slightly, forcing a polite smile.
"And you too, Elsa," he added smoothly.
"Thank you, Mr. Morpheus," Elsa replied with a forced composure.
"Shall we?" He gestured, and the great doors creaked open.
Abigail stepped forward. Each step echoed like thunder in her chest. Her breath caught the moment she entered and realized the truth — the room was nearly empty. Only her parents, Morpheus, Aurora, the pianist, and the priest awaited her. No laughter, no witnesses, no joy. Just an arrangement wrapped in silence.
Why isn't he here? she blurted aloud before she could stop herself.
Aurora forced a nervous laugh. "He'll be here soon."
"Of course he will," Morpheus said smoothly, though his eyes flickered with irritation. "Come now, ladies. Take your seats. It's time for the father to do his duty."
Elsa squeezed Abigail's trembling hand before joining the others, leaving the bride with her father.
But as the women sat, Morpheus excused himself, slipping outside. His mask of civility dropped the moment the doors shut.
"Klein!" he barked at his personal assistant.
"Yes, sir!"
"Have you heard from Jasper?"
"Yes, sir… but—"
"But what?" Morpheus's voice cracked like a whip.
Klein swallowed hard, his words tumbling. "He said… he said the young master may not… be coming."
Morpheus's face twisted into something monstrous. His voice was ice. "Gather the guards. Drag him here if you must."
"Sir… perhaps we should give him—"
"Enough!" Morpheus thundered, sending shivers down Klein's spine. "Do not test me. Call him again. Now."
Inside, Abigail was offered a chair before the priest. Minutes bled into hours. What should have been a celebration curdled into despair. Elsa's face grew pale, Aurora fidgeted nervously, and Wilford's patience frayed into anger.
Finally, Wilford rose. "Morpheus, your son has insulted us long enough. I say we end this charade. Give us two months, and we'll return every cent we owe."
"Sorry, Bernard," Morpheus snapped, his voice laced with venom. "But that was never our agreement."
The room bristled with tension.
"Gentlemen, please," Aurora pleaded. "This is not how it should be. Can't we be reasonable?"
The priest cleared his throat, his voice sharp. "We have waited for hours. If the groom cannot respect this union, then perhaps… replace him."
The suggestion stunned the room into silence.