4

Amelia’s POV By the time my wedding day arrived, I had stopped feeling like a bride. I felt like a project. There were people everywhere. Stylists. Makeup artists. Hairdressers. Photographers. Assistants. Security. Someone was always touching me, pinning something, fixing something, checking something. Even the room I was getting ready in didn’t feel like mine. Nothing about the day felt like mine. Not the dress. Not the flowers. Not the guest list. Not even the man I was marrying. I stared at myself in the mirror while one of the stylists adjusted the veil behind me. “You look beautiful,” she said. I smiled because I knew that was what people expected. “Thank you.” The dress really was beautiful. It was fitted through the waist, soft ivory silk with delicate beading along the neckline. Elegant. Expensive. Probably worth more than my first car. Victor had approved it. Of course he had. Everything had gone through Victor. My hair. My jewelry. The flowers. Even the exact shade of lipstick I was wearing. I had never imagined my wedding would look like this. When I was younger, I thought I would marry someone I loved. Someone who would look at me at the end of the aisle like I was the only person in the room. Someone whose hand I would hold because I wanted to. Not because cameras were watching. The thought made my chest tighten. I looked down at my hands. They were shaking. “Miss Rose?” I lifted my head. One of the assistants smiled. “They’re ready for you.” Of course they were. Everyone was ready. Except me. ⸻ The ceremony was being held at a private cathedral that the Wellingtons apparently considered intimate. There were hundreds of guests. Politicians. Business executives. Celebrities. People whose faces I recognized from magazines. Outside, reporters crowded behind security barriers. Inside, the entire place looked like something from a royal wedding. White roses covered the aisle. Crystal lights hung overhead. Every seat was filled. I stood at the entrance beside my father. He looked emotional. That almost broke me. “Are you okay?” he whispered. “No.” He looked at me. I gave him a small smile. “But I’ll survive.” His face tightened. “Amelia, you can still…” “Dad.” He stopped. There was no point. We both knew it. The music changed. Everyone stood. My father offered me his arm. I took it. Then I looked down the aisle. Theo was waiting. Black tuxedo. Perfect posture. Calm face. He looked every bit like the billionaire heir people expected him to be. Beautiful. Untouchable. Completely wrong for me. Our eyes met. Something softened in his expression. Not love. Never that. Understanding. That was somehow better. I took the first step. Then another. Every camera turned toward me. Every eye followed. I could hear whispers. I could feel them. The woman who had captured Theo Wellington. The mysterious bride. The lucky girl. If only they knew. By the time I reached him, my hands were trembling badly. Theo noticed immediately. My father placed my hand into his. Theo’s fingers closed around mine. Warm. Steady. “You’re okay,” he whispered. I looked at him. “No, I’m not.” His mouth twitched. “You’re doing well.” “That’s not the same thing.” “No.” His thumb brushed over my knuckles. “Just breathe.” I did. Once. Twice. Then the ceremony began. I barely heard most of it. Words about love. Commitment. Faithfulness. Forever. Every sentence felt like some private joke aimed directly at us. Theo stayed calm beside me. When it was time for vows, we said the words we had rehearsed. Simple. Beautiful. False. I promised to stand beside him. He promised to protect and respect me. That part, at least, I thought he meant. Then came the kiss. My stomach tightened. The officiant smiled. “You may kiss your bride.” Applause began before Theo even moved. He looked at me for half a second. A question in his eyes. I nodded. Theo leaned in. His hand rested lightly at my waist. His lips touched mine. Brief. Soft. Convincing. Nothing more. The crowd erupted. Cameras flashed. And just like that, I became Mrs. Theo Wellington. ⸻ The moment we were alone in the side room behind the chapel, Theo stepped away. “Sorry.” I blinked. “For what?” “The kiss.” I stared at him. “You barely kissed me.” “I know.” “That’s why it was fine.” He exhaled. “I just didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.” I almost laughed. “Theo, I just married a gay billionaire to save my father’s company. The kiss was honestly the least uncomfortable part of today.” He laughed. A real laugh. For a second, the tension disappeared. Then someone knocked. “Theo? Amelia? They need you for photographs.” I groaned. Theo offered me his arm. “Ready?” “No.” “Neither am I.” At least we had that. ⸻ The reception was worse. Not because anything went wrong. Because everything went perfectly. Too perfectly. Theo and I smiled for photographs. We cut the cake. We danced. We stood close enough to look intimate without actually being intimate. Every few minutes, I caught Victor watching us. Not casually. Checking. Measuring. Making sure we were playing our roles correctly. When Theo moved too far from me, Victor noticed. When I spent too long talking to my father, Victor noticed. When a reporter asked how we fell in love, Victor somehow appeared close enough to hear my answer. I hated it. At one point, Theo leaned toward me. “He’s watching.” “I know.” “Smile.” I forced one. Theo placed his hand at my waist. “Better.” “I hate your father.” “Get in line.” I almost laughed. Then Theo’s expression changed. Just slightly. His eyes moved past me. I followed his gaze. A man stood near the far side of the ballroom. Dark suit. Brown hair. Handsome in a quiet way. He was speaking to someone from Theo’s company. Nothing unusual. Except Theo was staring at him. Not like he looked at anyone else. His entire face softened. The change was so subtle that most people would have missed it. I didn’t. That had to be Ethan. I looked back at Theo. “You invited him?” Theo’s eyes snapped to mine. He knew immediately who I meant. “Technically, he’s here with the finance team.” “So yes.” “Yes.” I looked toward Ethan again. This time, he was looking at Theo. And suddenly, everything about the situation felt sad. They were in the same room. In love. And couldn’t even stand beside each other. Meanwhile, I was wearing Theo’s ring. His name. His entire public life. I expected to feel awkward. Maybe jealous, even though that made no sense. Instead, I felt sorry for them. Ethan looked away first. Theo’s jaw tightened. “You okay?” I asked. “Yes.” “That sounded convincing.” He gave me a look. I lowered my voice. “You can talk to him.” “Not here.” “Why?” “Because my father watches everything.” I glanced at Victor. He was speaking to a board member. Still somehow terrifying. “Right.” Theo looked at Ethan one more time. Then he turned back to me. And smiled for another camera. That smile hurt to watch. ⸻ By the time we returned to the Wellington estate, my feet were killing me. I carried my shoes in one hand. Theo walked beside me. The mansion was quiet. Thankfully. No photographers. No guests. No Victor. Just silence. “Your room is this way,” Theo said. We walked upstairs. He stopped outside a large bedroom at the end of the hallway. “This is yours.” I looked at the door. “And yours?” “Across the hall.” I smiled weakly. “Very traditional.” “Extremely.” I opened the door. The room was huge. Soft lighting. A large bed. Flowers on the table. Someone had even placed champagne beside an ice bucket. I stared at it. Theo followed my gaze. “I didn’t do that.” “I assumed.” “I’ll have it removed.” “It’s fine.” He hesitated. Then his expression became serious. “Amelia.” I looked at him. “Nothing is expected of you tonight.” “I know.” “I mean it.” “So do I.” “You can lock the door if that makes you feel better.” I smiled. “I don’t think I need protection from you.” Something in his face softened. “Goodnight, Amelia.” “Goodnight, husband.” He rolled his eyes. I laughed quietly. Then he walked across the hallway and disappeared into his own room. I stepped inside mine. Mrs. Wellington. The name felt strange. Heavy. Borrowed. I removed my earrings first. Then the veil. Then the necklace. My phone buzzed on the dressing table. I picked it up. Unknown number. I frowned and opened the message. Enjoy being Mrs. Wellington while it lasts. I stared at it. Probably some obsessed social media person. Or a reporter trying to scare me. My number had somehow leaked twice already that week. I blocked it. Deleted the message. And decided I had enough drama for one day. I was halfway toward the bathroom when headlights swept across the bedroom window. A car was coming up the driveway. I moved toward the glass. A black luxury car stopped near the entrance. The driver got out first. Then the back door opened. A tall man stepped out. Even from upstairs, I could tell he carried himself differently from Theo. Broader. Sharper. Like someone who expected people to move when he entered a room. He looked up toward the house. I leaned closer to the window. A quiet voice came from behind me. “That’s Adrian.” I jumped and turned. Theo stood in the doorway. I looked back toward the man outside. Then at Theo. “That’s your brother?” Theo’s expression had gone completely serious. “Yes.” Something about his tone made my stomach tighten. Theo looked toward the window again. “That’s Adrian.”