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The muted hum of voices outside barely registered a distant buzz against the pounding in my ears

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The muted hum of voices outside barely registered a distant buzz against the pounding in my ears. My heartbeat was a relentless drum, drowning out everything else as I stood motionless before the mirror, my fingers curling into the fabric of my dress. The heavy oak doors loomed ahead, an unforgiving barrier between me and the inevitable—the moment I would step through them and into a future I hadn't chosen. A future I hadn't asked for.

My lungs tightened, the air suddenly too thick, too heavy. It wasn't fear—at least, not the kind that made you run. It was the kind that rooted you in place, that whispered this isn't yours to escape.

The woman in the mirror didn't look like me.

She looked like a fantasy—like something out of a dream, spun from silk and lace and illusions. The gown clung to my body, a masterpiece of delicate embroidery and whispered promises, the kind of dress I never thought I'd wear. Every stitch, every shimmering bead, felt like a secret meant for someone else. And yet, here I was, wrapped in it.

The veil cascaded from my pinned-up hair, catching the soft light and turning it into something ethereal. I should've felt like a queen, untouchable and breathtaking. Instead, a strange weight settled in my chest, pressing against my ribs like a warning.

To anyone else, I looked like the perfect bride. But perfection had never been mine to claim.

The dress felt like a cage, a gilded trap woven from silk and suffocation. Beneath the layers of satin and expectation, I felt nothing. No flutter of anticipation. No dizzying joy. Just the cold weight of a fate I never asked for, wrapping around my ribs like a vice.

I was about to marry Luca Moretti.

The weight of those words settled in my chest, heavy and unrelenting. Like a chain wrapped around my ribs, tightening with every breath.

Luca Moretti. The name alone sent shivers down my spine, and not the good kind. The kind that warned of danger, of stepping too close to the edge of a cliff and daring gravity to do its worst.

Now, he was about to be my husband.

Whether I wanted him to be or not.

My heart twisted a sharp, unforgiving ache. Luca—the man who had handed me an escape wrapped in silk and steel. A man whose presence was both salvation and threat. Marrying him wasn't just about slipping into a world of wealth and power. It was about stepping into the unknown, into a life carved from shadows and bound by unspoken rules. A life where danger wasn't a possibility but a certainty. Where they would watch every move and every breath.

I tried to swallow, but my throat tightened, the sensation raw and unforgiving as if something thick and unrelenting had lodged itself there, refusing to let me breathe freely.

A knock shattered the silence, abrupt and sharp, like the snap of a guillotine. Before I could find the strength to tell whoever it was to go away, the door swung open.

Bound by Honor *COMPLETED*Where stories live. Discover now