Elena's POV
"Stop fidgeting," Damien's voice cut through my panic. "You look fine."
Fine. I was about to marry a man who'd bought me like property, and he thought I looked fine.
We stood outside city hall—I could hear traffic rushing past, people talking, the world moving on like this was just another normal day. But for me, this was the day my life ended.
Or maybe it had already ended the night Owen drugged me. This was just making it official.
"Your mother," I said quietly. "Is she really strong enough for this?"
"She insisted." Damien's hand gripped my elbow. "Said she'd crawl here if she had to. So yes, she's here. In a wheelchair. Barely breathing. But here."
Guilt twisted in my stomach. Catherine Cross was dying, and her last wish was to see her son married. To believe he'd found love. And I was the liar making that happen.
"I can't do this," I whispered.
"Yes, you can." Damien's fingers tightened. "Because if you don't, I'll let Victoria Harris know exactly where to find you. And trust me—you won't like what happens next."
Always threats. Always control. This was my life now.
The doors opened. Someone—Gabe probably—said, "They're ready for you."
Damien pulled me forward, and I stumbled. My white cane tapped against the ground, counting steps, trying to map this new space. But everything was happening too fast.
We entered a room that smelled like old paper and floor polish. My footsteps echoed on tile. A man's voice—official, bored—said, "Mr. Cross, Miss Carter, please step forward."
This was real. This was actually happening.
"Damien!" Catherine's voice called out—weak but happy. So happy it broke my heart. "Oh, my boy, you look so handsome!"
I heard wheels rolling. Catherine's wheelchair came closer. Then her thin, cold hands grabbed mine.
"Elena, sweetheart," she said, and I could hear the tears in her voice. "Thank you. Thank you for giving my son a chance. Thank you for loving him when the rest of the world fears him."
My throat closed. I couldn't speak.
"He's not easy to love," Catherine continued. "I know that. He's built walls so high, even I can barely reach him sometimes. But you—you broke through. I can see it in how he looks at you. How he holds your hand so carefully, like you're precious."
She thought he was being gentle. She didn't know his grip was a leash.
"Mrs. Cross," I started, but she cut me off.
"Call me Catherine. Or Mama, if you'd like. You're going to be my daughter in just a few minutes." She squeezed my hands harder. "Promise me something, Elena. Promise me you'll take care of him. That you'll remind him he's not the monster he thinks he is. That you'll love him even when he makes it impossible."
Tears burned my eyes. "I promise."
Another lie. But what else could I say? Your son blackmailed me into this marriage. He threatened to throw me to his enemies if I didn't cooperate. He's exactly the monster he thinks he is.
I couldn't destroy her last moments of happiness.
"Good," Catherine whispered. "Then I can die in peace."
"Don't talk like that, Mama," Damien said roughly. His first words since we entered, and they were thick with emotion he was trying to hide.
"It's the truth, baby. But it's okay. I'm not afraid anymore." Catherine released my hands. "Now marry this girl before she realizes she can do better and runs away."
A few people laughed—nurses, probably, and Gabe. Like this was a normal wedding with normal people.
The official cleared his throat. "Shall we begin?"
"Yes," Damien said firmly.
I wanted to scream no. Wanted to run. But Catherine's happiness, her joy—it trapped me more effectively than any chains.
"Damien Cross, do you take Elena Carter to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
"I do." Damien's voice was flat. Empty. Like he was agreeing to a business deal, not a marriage.
"And Elena Carter, do you take Damien Cross to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
My mouth opened. Closed. Everyone waited.
Damien's hand found mine and squeezed—hard enough to hurt. A reminder. A threat.
"I do," I whispered.
"Then by the power vested in me by the state, I now pronounce you husband and wife." The official paused. "You may kiss the bride."
Oh God. I hadn't thought about this part.
Damien's hands cupped my face—large, warm, completely impersonal. He leaned in, and his lips touched mine.
Ice. That's what it felt like. Cold, hard ice pressed against my mouth for exactly two seconds before he pulled away.
Our first kiss as husband and wife, and it had all the warmth of a corpse.
"Beautiful!" Catherine was crying now—happy tears. "Oh, my babies, you're so perfect together!"
Perfect. We were the opposite of perfect. We were a disaster wrapped in lies and held together with threats.
But I smiled. Turned toward where Catherine's voice came from. Let her believe in fairy tales while she still could.
Someone put a ring on my finger—heavy, cold metal that felt like a shackle. I heard Damien's sharp intake of breath when I slid a ring onto his finger too. Like he hadn't expected that part to feel real.
Too late now. We were married. Legally bound. No going back.
"Pictures!" a woman's voice called out—Sophie, the nurse I'd met at the hospital. "We need pictures for the memory book!"
Memory book. For a dying woman who wanted proof her son had found happiness.
I let them position me. Felt Damien's arm slide around my waist—stiff, reluctant. Heard cameras clicking.
"Smile, Elena!" Sophie encouraged. "This is your wedding day!"
I smiled. Another performance. Another lie.
After what felt like hours, Catherine said she was tired. The nurses wheeled her away, but not before she grabbed both our hands one last time.
"I'm so proud of you, Damien," she whispered. "You finally learned to love. That's all I ever wanted."
Then she was gone, and it was just me and Damien standing in the empty city hall room.
"Well," he said coldly. "That's done. You're officially Mrs. Cross now."
Mrs. Cross. The name felt wrong. Foreign.
"What happens now?" I asked.
"Now we go home. To my mansion. You'll live there as my wife."
"And after your mother—" I couldn't finish the sentence.
"After she dies, we'll discuss next steps." Damien's hand gripped my elbow again, pulling me toward the door. "But until then, you'll play your role perfectly. Understand?"
"I understand that I'm trapped."
"Trapped?" Damien laughed without humor. "You're protected. There's a difference."
"Not from where I'm standing."
"You're not standing," he pointed out cruelly. "I'm holding you up. Without me, you'd collapse. So maybe be a little grateful."
We walked outside into cold air that bit at my skin. A car door opened.
"Get in," Damien ordered.
I climbed in, and he followed. The door slammed shut like a prison cell closing.
We drove in silence until Gabe's voice came from the front seat: "Boss, we have a situation."
"What now?" Damien sounded exhausted.
"Marcus Steele just sent a message. He knows about the wedding. And he's not happy."
Ice flooded my veins. Marcus Steele—the man who'd killed Owen. The man who wanted to destroy Damien.
"What kind of message?" Damien asked carefully.
"He said, and I quote: 'Congratulations on your marriage. Your wife is beautiful. I can't wait to meet her properly.'"
Silence. Heavy and terrifying.
"He's threatening her," Damien said quietly.
"He's declaring war," Gabe corrected. "He's saying he's coming for Elena. And there's nothing you can do to stop him."
My hand instinctively went to my stomach—to the baby that might be growing there. Marcus Steele wanted to hurt me to hurt Damien. And I was blind, helpless, completely vulnerable.
"Double security," Damien ordered. "No one gets near her. No one."
"Already done, boss."
Damien's hand found mine in the dark car. For the first time, his touch wasn't cruel or threatening. It was almost... protective.
"I won't let him touch you," Damien said quietly. "I don't care what it costs. You're mine now, and I protect what's mine."
Mine. Not wife. Not partner. Mine. Like property.
But right now, being his property was the only thing keeping me alive.
The car pulled up to massive gates that creaked open. We drove through, and I heard gravel crunching under the tires. A huge building loomed ahead—I could sense its size even without seeing it.
"Welcome to Cross Manor," Damien said coldly. "Your new home. Or your new prison, depending on how you look at it."
The car stopped. Damien helped me out, and I stood there, holding my white cane, trying not to shake.
"Staff is lined up to meet you," Gabe said quietly. "They've been instructed to treat Mrs. Cross with respect."
Mrs. Cross. That was me now.
Damien pulled me forward. "This is my wife, Elena," he announced to people I couldn't see. "She's blind, so you'll need to announce yourselves when you enter a room. She's also pregnant—"
"Damien!" I hissed. "We don't know that for sure—"
"—so she's to be treated with extreme care," he continued, ignoring me. "Anyone who disrespects her answers to me. Understood?"
A chorus of "Yes, sir" echoed around us.
"Good. Now someone show her to her room."
"Her room?" I repeated. "Not our room?"
"Did you think we'd share?" Damien's voice was mocking. "This is a business arrangement, Elena. We're married on paper. Nothing more. You'll have the east wing. I'll have the west. We don't need to see each other unless necessary."
He was abandoning me. On our wedding day, my husband was abandoning me in a strange house where I couldn't see, couldn't navigate, couldn't function.
"Damien, please—" I started.
But he was already walking away. I heard his footsteps fade into the distance, leaving me standing alone with strangers.
"Mrs. Cross?" A woman's voice—kind, gentle. "I'm Maria, the head housekeeper. Let me take you to your room."
I followed her because I had no choice. Up stairs, down hallways, through a maze I'd never remember.
Finally, we stopped. A door opened.
"This is your room," Maria said. "The bed is straight ahead. The bathroom is to your right. There's a button by the bed if you need anything. Just press it, and someone will come."
"Thank you," I whispered.
Maria hesitated. "Mrs. Cross? Are you... are you okay?"
No. I wasn't okay. I'd just married a monster. I was trapped in a mansion I couldn't navigate. I was pregnant with a baby I didn't plan. And a dangerous criminal was threatening to kill me.
But I said, "I'm fine."
Another lie. My life was built on lies now.
Maria left. The door closed.
I stood alone in the darkness that was my whole world now, my hand pressed against my stomach.
"I'm sorry," I whispered to the baby that might be there. "I'm so sorry I brought you into this nightmare."
Then I heard it—a sound that made my blood freeze.
Footsteps. In my room. Someone was here with me.
"Who's there?" I called out, my voice shaking.
A man's voice—not Damien's, not Gabe's—answered from the shadows.
"Hello, Mrs. Cross. Marcus Steele sends his regards. And a wedding gift."