Chapter 8: A Wedding of Chains
Some brides wear white for love. She wore it for survival.
---
The wedding dress felt like a shroud.
Soft silk. Lace details. A delicate veil. It was beautiful.
But to Sophia, it was a cage.
Her reflection in the mirror showed a girl she didn't recognize. Pale skin, hollow eyes. The dress fit perfectly, but it was suffocating her.
A knock at the door.
Marissa, her assigned attendant, peeked in. "It's time."
Sophia's stomach dropped.
She wanted to run, to rip off the dress and disappear. But there was no way out.
Her feet felt like lead as she followed Marissa through the grand hallways of Adrian's estate. Chandeliers sparkled overhead. The scent of roses filled the air.
Everything was elegant, expensive.
But it wasn't a fairytale.
It was a prison.
The heavy doors of the grand ballroom loomed ahead. Beyond them, Adrian was waiting.
Her hands shook.
Marissa pushed the doors open.
---
The DeLuca Family
The room was filled with strangers.
Men in dark suits. Women draped in diamonds. The elite of the underworld.
But not everyone here was a stranger.
To the left, an older man with sharp blue eyes and silver-streaked black hair sat at the front row, dressed in a deep navy suit. Vincent DeLuca Adrian's father.
The infamous mafia king who ruled before Adrian. Cold. Ruthless. And watching her like she was an unworthy intruder.
Next to him sat Elena DeLuca, Adrian's mother. Her dark eyes scanned Sophia with interest, lips pursed. A woman of grace and power, yet there was something unreadable in her gaze pity? Curiosity? Disapproval?
Then there were Adrian's siblings.
Dante, Adrian's eldest brother, leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. A man as intimidating as Adrian himself. A man who had no interest in this wedding.
Isabella, the younger sister, gave Sophia a long, assessing look. She was stunning, dark curls pinned into a loose updo, a glass of wine balanced between delicate fingers. Amused. But intrigued.
And at the far end Matteo, Adrian's youngest brother, only in his mid-twenties. His brows furrowed slightly, the only one who looked remotely uncomfortable.
Sophia felt their stares as she walked down the aisle.
Some accepting. Some calculating. Some silent in disapproval.
And then there was Adrian.
Standing at the altar, watching her like a predator watching its prey.
---
A Deal with the Devil
Sophia's legs locked.
She couldn't do this. She wouldn't.
But then she caught sight of Liam.
He was in the crowd, his jaw tight, fists clenched. His eyes burned with rage. Desperation. Fear.
Then she saw the man standing near him.
One of Adrian's men.
Watching him.
A silent warning.
Sophia's stomach twisted.
Adrian wasn't just threatening her. He was making sure Liam didn't interfere.
Her hands shook.
But then Noah.
Her little brother's face flashed in her mind.
If she fought, Adrian would hurt them both.
Her breath hitched.
Her legs moved forward on their own.
One step. Then another. Each step felt like a death sentence.
She reached the altar.
The officiant spoke, but the words blurred.
Then
"Do you, Sophia Caldwell, take Adrian DeLuca as your husband?"
She couldn't breathe.
She didn't want this. She wanted to scream, to run, to fight.
But Adrian's hand slid over hers, firm and commanding.
A warning.
"Say it," he murmured.
Tears burned behind her eyes. This wasn't a wedding. This was a deal with the devil.
"…I do."
Adrian smiled. Victorious.
The room erupted in applause.
Sophia felt like she was drowning.
And then, as Adrian leaned in, pressing a possessive kiss to her lips, she realized something bone-chilling.
The night wasn't over.
And neither was her nightmare.