Billionaire's Bride

Wedding

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Real marriage is about two souls who cherish and respect each other's desires, flaws, and dreams. But today, Janette Stark felt trapped, not cherished.

Robert Stark’s grip was like a vice on Janette’s arm as he practically dragged her towards the aisle. His voice was low and menacing, "If you try to run, I promise I’ll ruin Tom’s career."

Janette’s heart clenched at the threat. Was this truly her father? The man she had known her whole life had never resorted to blackmail for his own gain.

“Fine,” she spat, her voice laced with defiance. “But I have one condition.” She couldn’t believe she was still negotiating when there seemed no way out.

His eyes narrowed. “What condition?”

“I want Eric to walk me down the aisle. Not you.” She waited, breath held. To her surprise, Stark nodded, granting her this one small mercy.

Moments later, Eric appeared, his presence a balm to her frayed nerves. He took her arm gently, his expression a mix of concern and silent support. Stark stepped back, disgraced, and Eric became the one to lead her forward.

The grand doors opened, revealing the aisle bathed in soft candlelight. All around her, guests rose to their feet, the air filled with the sweet melody of violins. For a moment, the scene almost felt dreamlike—a perfect, romantic setting with fairy lights hanging like stars and flowers adorning every corner. Yet for Janette, it was all a twisted mirage.

At the end of the aisle stood Asher Norman. In his tailored black tuxedo, he was every bit the image of a prince—dark hair slicked back, his stance tall and commanding. His ocean-blue eyes were fixed on her, unreadable but intense. Despite herself, Janette’s heart gave a small lurch. He was undeniably handsome, but his looks did nothing to quell the unease in her chest. She was walking toward a stranger, not a savior.

With each step, the weight of her satin gown grew heavier, and the closer she got to him, the more her resolve hardened. She hadn’t even noticed when Eric gently placed her hand in Asher’s. The contact sent a shiver through her; his hand was warm, strong, yet unfamiliar. She tried to mask her discomfort, her expression cool and unreadable.

The priest began the ceremony, his voice echoing softly in the hushed room. Janette barely listened. Her mind wandered to her real parents—the ones who had raised her, loved her, and put her happiness above all else. This marriage wasn’t about love; it was a transaction, a sacrifice for those she cared about. For Tom, who had always stood by her like a protective guardian.

Asher's gaze stayed locked on her face, studying her intently. She could feel the weight of it but refused to look up. She was determined to keep her emotions hidden. "I’ll make you regret this," she vowed silently. "I’ll make you see what a mistake it was to bind yourself to me."

But as much as she tried to focus on that thought, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had once imagined this moment differently. She had once believed that marriage was a sacred union—one where love, trust, and dreams intertwined.

The vows were said, and suddenly, the moment she dreaded arrived: the kiss that would seal their unwanted union. She wasn’t prepared when Asher leaned in, his breath warm on her lips. Her pulse quickened. Then his lips met hers—soft, controlled, but undeniably there. The kiss was brief, just a brush of lips, yet it sent a jolt through her, a sensation that both startled and unsettled her.

Her first kiss—saved for this moment. She had always imagined it would be magical, with a man she loved deeply, someone who cherished her for who she was. Not like this, not forced, not with a stranger.

If she’d known her first kiss would feel this empty, she might have let that boy years ago steal it away without a fight.

“Congratulations,” Erie’s voice broke through, pulling her back to reality. She hugged Janette tightly, tears brimming in her eyes. “You look beautiful,” she whispered.

Regina followed, hugging Asher and then turning to Janette with a smile. The moment felt surreal, and Janette felt herself sinking further into the strange nightmare that had become her life.

Eric approached her next, his expression serious but gentle. “Congrats, Sis. Mom would be so proud of you today,” he whispered, his eyes moist with unshed tears.

"Why didn't you stop this wedding?" she thought bitterly. “Should I trust him?”

“I know you don’t trust me right now, especially after everything that’s happened,” he murmured, sensing her doubts. “But believe me, Sis, you’re safer with Asher than with Robert Stark,” he added, glancing toward Stark, whose eyes were burning with an unreadable intensity. She turned her head slightly and caught Asher watching them closely.

Eric leaned in closer and whispered, “And remember, we’re on the same side.” She wanted to ask him more, but he cut her off with a gentle finger on her lips. From his pocket, he pulled out a small velvet box and opened it, revealing a delicate heart-shaped pendant.

“Wear it,” he said softly, his voice almost pleading.

“But I—” she began, noting how precious it looked.

“It belongs to you, Rose,” he insisted, clasping it around her neck himself.

"Open it," he urged, and she did, revealing a tiny photograph inside—a beautiful, smiling couple.

“Who are they?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Our parents,” Eric replied softly. Her breath caught in her throat as she studied the woman’s face. Her vibrant red hair, so much like Janette's, seemed to shimmer in the tiny locket.

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