Charlotte’s scream ripped through the air, sharp and desperate, but it died uselessly against the powerful hands that gripped her. Her voice was swallowed instantly, as if the world itself conspired against her. She thrashed, kicking violently, but the men’s hold was like iron, unyielding, and unfeeling. Her heels barely scraped the floor before a rough hand swept her backward, sending her sprawling across the hardwood. Another hand clamped over her mouth, muffling her cries and twisting them into a broken, choked whimper that only made her panic deepen.The burly men who had stormed in showed no hesitation and no flicker of empathy. Their faces were masks of cold, mechanical precision and their movements were deliberate.Their shadows loomed over her like walls closing in.Charlotte’s chest heaved as adrenaline surged through her veins, the terror clawing upward, suffocating her with its intensity.Inside her head, her thoughts churned violently.Did they come for me the way the

Charlotte could no longer stomach what she felt. Her chest felt tight, her heart racing, and a storm of disbelief raged inside her. What the hell was this? People she had known her whole life, people she trusted, were gathered in a room decorated as if for a wedding—yet this was a wedding she had not endorsed, a marriage she had never agreed to.The hall gleamed with crystal chandeliers that reflected the soft golden light onto the polished floor, making it sparkle like something out of a dream—a dream she wanted to wake from. Rows of chairs lined up perfectly, adorned with white satin bows and scattered petals. The faint scent of roses mixed with the subtle aroma of candle wax filled the air, intensifying the absurdity of it all.She looked around in sheer disbelief. Friends, relatives, even some strangers whose presence she didn’t recognize, were all there, smiling and chatting as though she had already consented to the marriage. Their laughter grated against her nerves. Were th

After a while, the room finally began to thin out. The constant chatter, the nervous shifting of feet, and the low hum of disapproving whispers slowly dwindled as one by one, the Sullivan family members realized that their presence was accomplishing nothing. Even Barbara, who had waited impatiently outside the room, glancing every few minutes at the door with sharp, scrutinizing eyes, could no longer wait.Damien had still not made his grand appearance in the way she had expected, and she understood, with a mixture of frustration and resignation, that there was nothing left she could do at that moment to influence the situation.With a dismissive sigh, Barbara turned to the others in the family, her expression taut with irritation. “It seems there’s nothing left for us here,” she muttered, her voice carrying a weight that suggested both defeat and annoyance. Slowly, hesitantly, they started to gather their belongings, murmuring brief words to each other.One by one, the family memb

Damien staggered, clutching at his chest, his surprise quickly turning to fury. “Logan! You can’t—she’s mine! You’ll regret—” But Logan didn’t give him the chance to finish. He slammed Damien to the floor, his weight pinning him down with merciless strength. Every fiber of Logan’s being screamed for vengeance with his movements precise, efficient, and fueled by the injustice of what Damien had tried to do. Charlotte, still trembling on the edge of the bed, watched as Logan moved with an almost supernatural intensity. She felt the rush of relief flood her veins. Logan was not just protecting her; he was exacting justice for all the terror Damien had tried to inflict. Damien, realizing the gravity of the situation, tried to push Logan off him, but it was futile. Logan’s grip was iron with his every motion calculated to subdue, not simply strike. “I warned you,” Logan growled, his voice low and lethal. “You touch her, and you’ll pay with more than your pride.” Charlotte’

Charlotte’s hands balled into fists. Enough. She had had more than enough. Something in her chest tightened, a pressure that had been building for months—no, years—finally snapping loose. She stepped forward, her face trembling with outrage. The sound that escaped her was not a scream, but a steady, cutting command. “Stop it.” Her voice cut through the murmurs like a blade slicing clean through cloth. Instantly, the room fell silent. The chatter, the whispers, the accusations—everything evaporated. All eyes turned to her. She stood in the middle of the living room, surrounded by people she had once called family, people she had once trusted. But right now, she saw them differently. She saw their folded arms, their narrowed eyes, and their judgment. She glared at each of them—her uncles, aunts, cousins—and finally rested her gaze on Barbara, who stood with her arms crossed and an expression of wounded pride, as if she were the one wronged. “How dare you?” Charlotte said,