"Does it matter?" Ethan Cruz's voice thundered through the church as he stood in front of his son like a judge preparing an execution.
The priest flinched, nearly dropping his holy book.
"W-Well…" he stammered, pale blue eyes darting everywhere except the gun. "The wedding vow… the groom must… speak…"
Yes.
Say it louder, priest.
Say it like you actually want to live.
Because if the groom is unconscious, this whole thing is invalid, right? That had to mean something. A wedding wasn't a kidnapping ceremony. You couldn't marry a corpse.
Could you?
Chloe held her breath, staring at Ethan's face, waiting for the explosion.
But instead…
Ethan's brows lifted.
"Oh," he said, nodding slowly. "I see."
Chloe blinked.
He… understood?
For the first time since she'd been dragged into this nightmare, the mafia boss looked almost reasonable, as if he'd been politely reminded of proper table manners.
He nodded again.
"He needs to say his vows," he murmured, as if repeating it helped him process it. "I see… I see…"
Hope flickered inside her chest.
Maybe this would be postponed.
Maybe Adam's drunken body would be dragged out, and this whole farce would collapse under the weight of basic human logic.
Adam hung between the two men like a marionette with its strings cut. His head lolled forward, blond hair hiding his face. If they let go, he'd hit the marble floor like a sack of dead meat.
Ethan stared at him for a long moment.
Then, without warning…
SMACK!
The sound cracked through the church like thunder.
A gasp rippled through the crowd, sharp and collective.
Her entire body jolted.
Ethan had swung the base of his gun and slammed it into Adam's temple.
Hard.
So hard the impact echoed against the marble walls.
Her mouth fell open.
Oh God.
Did he just…
Did he just kill him?
Adam's head jerked sideways.
Blood bloomed instantly, dark red against pale skin, spilling from his temple and sliding down the side of his face like a cruel ribbon.
Her stomach lurched.
"He's bleeding…" Chloe whispered, barely aware she'd spoken.
Ethan didn't even blink.
"Wake up, son!" he barked, voice loud enough to shake the stained-glass windows.
Chloe covered her ears instinctively.
This man was insane.
Not violent, insane. Not angry, insane.
He was something worse.
A man who genuinely believed the world was his personal object, including his own children.
Adam twitched.
"hmm…"
Chloe froze.
He moved.
Adam's head lifted slowly, heavy and unsteady, like he was crawling out of a grave. His eyelids fluttered, struggling to open.
Ethan leaned closer and shouted directly into his ear.
"Adam! Wake up!"
Adam's eyes opened.
And the first thing he saw…
Was her.
Their gazes collided.
The air in her lungs turned into ice.
His eyes were blue.
Not ordinary blue.
Not soft blue.
A cold, violent shade, like winter seas right before a storm swallows ships whole.
For a second, he stared at her in silence, unfocused and dazed. Confusion clouded his face, his brows knitting as if he couldn't decide whether Chloe was real or another hallucination.
Her fingers tightened around her dress.
He was drunk.
Bleeding.
Half-awake.
And still… terrifying.
Slowly, Adam shrugged off the men supporting him, pushing them away with lazy irritation as he forced himself upright. His balance wavered, but his height was undeniable. Even unsteady, he towered over everyone around him.
"Hands off," he muttered, voice low and rough.
The two men stepped back instantly.
Ethan moved to his side, inspecting the blood like it was nothing more than spilled wine. Adam lifted a hand to his temple, touching the wound, then stared at the blood smeared across his fingers with faint surprise.
"Did Chloe I my head?" he asked, voice slurred.
Ethan's answer came like a slap.
"No. I hit you with a gun to wake you up," he snapped. "You need to get married. This is no time to be drunk!"
Adam stared at him for a beat.
Then, almost casually, he wiped his blood onto his white blazer, staining the fabric crimson.
"Well… fuck," he murmured.
Her skin crawled.
This wasn't a family.
This was a pack of wolves eating each other alive.
Ethan turned toward the priest. "Proceed. We haven't got all day."
The priest's lips trembled.
"O-Of course…"
Her heart sank so hard it felt like it hit the floor.
No.
No, no, no.
This couldn't be happening.
Chloe could feel sweat forming along her spine despite the cold air. her hands went numb inside her lace sleeves.
If this ceremony happened… her life was finished.
Not ruined.
Literally Finished.
Ethan then grabbed Adam's arm and yanked him forward toward the altar. Adam stumbled, catching himself at the last second, boots scraping against marble.
Then suddenly…
He stopped.
Like a thought finally reached his brain through the fog of alcohol.
Adam turned his head slowly.
His gaze landed on her again.
"Who is she?" he asked, pointing directly at her.
Her throat tightened.
I'm the girl you're being forced to marry, you drunken idiot, Chloe screamed silently inside her head.
Ethan's patience snapped. "That is your bride, Adam!"
Adam stared at her for another long moment, eyes narrowing as if trying to recognize a stranger in a dream.
Then he spoke, voice steady now, cold and absolute.
"She's not my bride."
Silence.
The words fell like a knife into the room.
Her breath caught.
Her heart jumped.
And then, against all logic, something bright and dangerous rose inside her.
Relief.
Pure, shameless relief.
Oh, her God.
He's refusing.
He's refusing!
Chloe almost wanted to laugh. Chloe almost wanted to cry. Chloe almost wanted to grab his bleeding hand and kiss it like he'd just saved her life.
Ethan stepped closer, face darkening.
"What the hell are you saying?" he growled. "We went over this. If I say she's your bride, then she is your bride."
Chloe flinched at the venom in his voice.
The guests sat frozen, their bodies stiff as statues. No one dared speak. No one dared move.
The church felt less like a holy place now and more like an execution chamber waiting for the axe to fall.
Chloe glanced sideways.
Her grandmother looked paler than before, her eyes half-lidded, her breathing shallow. The nurse behind her gripped the wheelchair handles like she was afraid Granny might slip away right there.
Her stomach twisted with panic.
Please… not here.
Not now.
Adam's gaze remained on her.
Then, unexpectedly, he spoke to her directly.
"What is… your name?"
His voice was slower, clearer, as if he was forcing himself to stay conscious just long enough to understand the situation.
Chloe froze.
He was talking to her.
Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
His eyes narrowed further, waiting.
Demanding.
Her throat felt dry as sand.
"Chloe," Chloe finally managed. "My name is Chloe Lefeuvre."
Adam's expression shifted.
Not softening.
Not apologizing.
Just… deciding.
"Emma," he said, like the name was sacred. Like it belonged in his mouth more than air. "I will not marry anyone besides Emma."
Then he pointed at her again, eyes sharp as blades.
"She is not my bride."
Her chest tightened.
Emma.
The name rang in her skull.
So he had someone.
Someone he loved.
Someone he'd chosen.
A strange bitterness rose in her, sharp and painful. Not because Chloe wanted him, but because she understood that kind of love.
Because she had once believed she would marry the man she loved too.
Until reality laughed at her.
Adam shook off his father's grip and turned away.
He took one step.
Then another.
He was leaving.
Her pulse raced.
Yes.
Leave.
Run.
End this.
Ethan's voice exploded behind him.
"What are you saying? Emma?! Argh!"
Then he snapped his fingers like a king calling his dogs. "Men. Hold him down. Now."
The men in black moved instantly, rising from their seats in perfect unison. They rushed Adam like wolves converging on prey.
Adam tried to twist away, but he was still drunk, still bleeding, still unsteady.
They grabbed his arms.
His shoulders.
His legs.
He cursed, struggling violently, but there were too many hands and too much strength.
Within seconds, they forced him down.
Adam's knees hit the marble floor with a sickening sound.
He was held there, pinned, restrained like an animal at his father's feet.
Ethan stepped closer, gun still in hand, face twisted with fury.
Chloe stood frozen at the altar, unable to breathe.
This was the heir of the Cruz syndicate.
Dragged into his own wedding unconscious.
Hit in the head with a gun.
And now forced to kneel like a slave.
If they treated him like this…
What would they do to her?
Her stomach churned.
Her fingers trembled.
Adam's head drooped again, his body sagging as the alcohol reclaimed him. His eyelids fluttered, his breath uneven, his blood still dripping slowly down his cheek.
He mumbled something incoherent.
Then his body went limp.
He passed out again.
No matter how much they shook him, no matter how much Ethan shouted, Adam didn't wake up.
The chaos continued.
Shouting.
Swearing.
Orders barked like bullets.
Men restraining a man who couldn't even stand.
The priest was trembling so hard he looked like he might collapse.
And her…
Just standing there in white, watching her future almost happen.
Eventually, reality won.
The ceremony couldn't proceed.
Not with the groom unconscious and bleeding on the floor like a broken doll.
Ethan's rage filled the church, but even his power couldn't force words out of an unconscious mouth.
For the first time that day… Chloe felt like the universe had thrown her a single crumb of mercy.
She wasn't free.
Not even close.
But she had escaped marriage for one more day.
One more breath.
One more chance.
Later, after Chloe changed out of the wedding dress, men in black escorted her grandmother and her back to her hospital room like they were prisoners being transported.
The gown, the church, the altar… it all felt like a nightmare fading into something worse.
Because Chloe knew this wasn't over.
Not for Ethan Cruz.
Not for Adam.
Not for her.
Chloe never saw Adam again that day.
But his blue eyes stayed in her mind like a bruise.
Cold.
Confused.
And dangerous.
And somewhere deep inside, beneath her fear, Chloe realized something that made her skin crawl.
Adam Cruz wasn't refusing the marriage because he cared about her.
He refused because he already belonged to someone else.
And men like him didn't lose what they considered theirs.
Not without blood.