Chapter 1
IVY BROWN
In fifty minutes, I stop being mine.
My life. My future. My name.
Signed away with a ring I never asked for.
I sit in a wheelchair, dressed in white like some sacrificial bride. Which I am. The gown is beautiful, but heavy. The decorations are perfect, the guests well-fed. I take a peek through the window, music plays, flowers bloom, and strangers smile and chat like this is a celebration, the lies sugar-coated. And me? I sit here wondering if I’ve made a mistake—or if I ever had a say at all.
No knight is coming. No rescue awaits.
And I laugh, bitterly, at the thought.
I am Ivy Brown. Mute. Crippled. Convenient.
I was forced into this marriage.
Manipulated. Cornered.
And now I’m being handed to him, a man whose touch disgusts me. A man who sees women as disposable. I’ve seen them come and go from his mansion, none of them wearing white, none of them leaving untouched. Still, he insists on marrying me.
He doesn't love me, not even a pretense. Yet, he's determined to marry me. Not for affection, not for any sense of making amends, but purely for dominance, for control of maybe something which I don’t know.
There's a significance in keeping me, and the unknown reason fills me with dread. This has never been about love; it's always been about ownership. In less than an hour, I will become his possession, his next trophy.
“It’s time. We should get going, Ms. Brown.” The only voice that still holds warmth—Sasha’s—echoes gently from the door. My nanny since childhood. More like the only person who stayed after I went mute… and broken.
“Ms. Brown, I can only imagine the pain you're feeling. It weighs heavily on me that I broke my promise to Melissa. Please, if you can, forgive me. We have to go now.”
Tears fill my eyes.
Melissa Brown. My mom, the only person on earth who was related to me. Gone.
I nod. Because at this point I am left with no choice.
I try not to flinch as the doors swing wide open and all eyes fall on me.
A fragile thing in white silk and wheels, being pushed toward a man I’d never choose.
Sasha wheels me forward, toward the aisle I’m supposed to glide down like a fairytale bride, followed by the bridesmaids.
But let’s be real—I don’t have a father to walk me. Or an uncle.
And the irony? I can’t even walk by myself.
At the end of the aisle stands the man who bought this moment with power, not love.
Simon Seiler.
Ruthless. Smug. Dressed in a white suit like a fox pretending to be pure.
His dark brown eyes don’t meet mine.
They’re too busy undressing the bridesmaid I barely know.
Another deep breath.
Another few minutes until I fall into hell, quietly.
Will someone stop this?
Will someone see me—without me having to scream?
I lift my chin and meet his gaze anyway.
He doesn’t smile at me.
Of course not.
I’m not a bride. I’m a display.
My hands stay still in my lap. My expression is blank.
Inside, my heart drums against its cage.
This is happening.
For real. For good.
I scan the room—not for a familiar face, but for a crack in the walls. A shadow. A sign. I’d be happy even if the roof falls and I die.
Anything that might mean this is not the end of my story.
But there’s nothing.
No miracle. No interruption. Just music and murmurs and the scent of roses thick in the air.
Simon is still smirking. Not at me. Never at me.
I wonder how long until he grows bored of this little performance and finds a new toy to break.
My fingers curl slightly into the fabric of my dress.
Please, I think, if someone’s watching—let them see me.
Because I can’t scream.
I never could.
Unable to lift my head and meet his gaze, a wave of disgust at being near him sickens me. The ceremony begins as I inhale deeply.
Just a few more minutes.
My mind races with thoughts. Escape is impossible, and the will to live is gone. Would ending this misery be for the best? There would be no one left to mourn me anyway.
Simon finally spoke breaking the silence, after five minutes of ogling the bridesmaids behind me. “You must be looking forward to this, aren't you, Ivy?”
Instead of answering, I looked down. My silence only seemed to fuel his cruel, mocking smile.
“You don't have to worry about fulfilling your duties as my wife,” he continued. “You can just be the queen of my empire; I'll take care of the rest.” I finally looked up, just in time to see him wink and smile at one of the bridesmaids. So that's what he meant. At least I won't have his filthy hands on me.
Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, I retreat into my dream world in the middle of the ceremony, a summer garden where my laughter echoes, and I can run freely without the wheelchair or the support of Sasha amidst beautiful flowers, delicious fruits, and playful puppies.
“Hope I wasn't late for the Seiler's wedding, was I?” a voice cut through my thoughts.
