Ashes of the forsaken bride

Chapter 3: A Bride Without a Choice

The ride back to the Cole estate was entirely silent. alora pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the window, watching the city streets blur into a smear of gray and neon.

Her mind kept looping back to the drawing room at the Hartwell mansion. She analyzed every look, every shift in the air. Evelyn’s cold, transactional gaze. Chloe’s sharp amusement. But most of all, she remembered the absolute indifference in Damien’s eyes.

He hadn't looked at her with disgust, nor had he looked at her with curiosity. To him, she was simply a line item on a corporate checklist—a box that needed a checkmark before the legal team could file the paperwork.

“We’ll proceed.”

The phrase repeated in her head like a dull ache. Nobody had asked for her input, let alone her consent. The realization left a bitter, heavy taste in her mouth.

When the luxury sedan finally pulled up to the Cole residence, alora stepped out onto the gravel driveway with heavy legs. Before she could even reach the top step of the porch, the heavy front door swung open. Sophia stood in the entryway, her fingers tightly gripping the frame.

"Well?" Sophia demanded, stepping forward. "How did it go?"

alora blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the sheer urgency in her stepsister's voice. "Well what?"

Sophia’s practiced smile tightened, her eyes scanning alora’s face with a restless, almost frantic intensity. She seemed to be looking for a specific sign of failure. "The meeting. Did they throw you out, or what?"

"They approved the match," alora said quietly.

For a fraction of a second, something ugly and resentful twisted Sophia's features. It was a look of raw bitterness, so sharp that alora almost stepped back. But just as quickly as it appeared, Sophia forced her mask back into place, her lips stretching into a hollow grin.

"Oh. Well... congratulations, then." The words sounded incredibly forced, practically scraping against her teeth.

Without waiting for a response, Sophia turned on her heel and marched back into the house. alora watched her disappear down the hallway, the confusion inside her deepening. If Sophia truly despised her and wanted her gone, shouldn't she be thrilled that alora was being married off to another family? Instead, she looked like she had just been robbed.

That evening, the Cole family gathered in the formal dining room for dinner. It was a bizarre change of pace. Usually, alora was expected to eat alone in the kitchen or wait until everyone else had finished before fixing a plate. Tonight, however, her father had explicitly commanded her to sit at the foot of the table.

The sudden inclusion felt completely hollow. It wasn't an act of affection; it was a preparation ritual. She was being treated like a guest of honor solely because her market value had suddenly skyrocketed.

Richard cleared his throat, setting his linen napkin down beside his plate. "The Hartwells' legal representatives called the office this afternoon."

alora looked up from her untouched salad. "And?"

"The formal engagement announcement will be made to the press next week," her father stated, his tone businesslike and final.

Her fork paused halfway to her mouth. "Next week? Isn't that incredibly fast?"

Victoria offered a patronizing, smooth smile from across the table. "The Hartwells don't see the point in wasting time, alora. When a contract is agreed upon, they move toward execution immediately. It's how they maintain their market position."

alora lowered her utensil, the appetite completely leaving her. "I just thought there would be a transition period. Some time to actually speak with him."

Sophia let out a sharp, mocking snort from across the table, drawing everyone's attention.

"Is something amusing, Sophia?" Richard asked, his brow furrowing.

Sophia shrugged, leaning back in her chair with a cynical expression. "I just think it's hilarious that alora expects a grand romance. Do you honestly think a man like Damien Hartwell cares about getting to know you? Or about things like love?" She looked directly at alora, her eyes gleaming. "He’s doing his duty for his family's empire. You're just the face attached to the deal."

"Sophia, that's enough," Richard warned, though his tone lacked any real heat.

alora looked down at her plate, the words stinging despite how hard she tried to block them out. Sophia was vicious, but she wasn't wrong. Love had absolutely nothing to do with this arrangement. It was a merger, plain and simple.

Two days later, alora found herself standing on a velvet-lined podium inside the city's most exclusive bridal boutique. The shop had been closed to the public specifically for her appointment, paid for entirely by a corporate account associated with the Hartwells.

A small army of stylists and seamstresses surrounded her, pulled her arms, wrapped measuring tapes around her waist, and muttered rapidly about lace patterns and silk weights. alora stood perfectly still as a woman pinned a heavy, cascading white gown around her frame. The fabric was breathtaking—far more luxurious than anything she had ever touched in her life—yet she felt entirely detached from the image in the mirror. It felt like she was modeling a costume for a character she hadn't auditioned to play.

The boutique's double doors chimed, and alora glanced up to see Sophia walking in, draped in an expensive trench coat. Instantly, the sales assistants shifted their attention, recognizing the frequent high-society shopper. They greeted her with bright smiles and eager offers of champagne.

Sophia gave them a dismissive wave and walked over to the podium. She stopped a few feet away, her gaze fixing on the white dress. Her expression was completely unreadable, her eyes tracing the intricate beadwork along the bodice.

"You actually look nice," Sophia said, her voice unusually quiet.

alora blinked, surprised by the lack of venom. "Thank you."

Sophia looked away, her jaw tightening as she stared at her own reflection in the side mirror. The silence stretched between them for a long, uncomfortable moment before she spoke again. "Do you even realize how absurdly lucky you are?"

alora frowned, the heavy fabric of the skirt weighing her down. "Lucky? Sophia, I'm being traded like a piece of property to secure a development deal."

"You're marrying Damien Hartwell," Sophia hissed, her voice dropping into a fierce whisper that caught alora completely off guard. There was an intense, raw emotion behind the name—something deeply personal that went far beyond mere social climbing.

alora studied her stepsister's tense posture, a sudden suspicion taking root in her mind. "Sophia... do you know him? Have you met him before?"

For a second, Sophia froze entirely, her breath catching in her throat. The slip was gone in a flash, replaced instantly by a sharp, defensive laugh. "Don't be ridiculous. Everyone in our circle knows who he is. He's untouchable."

alora wasn't entirely convinced, but she chose not to push. In the Cole household, digging too deep into anyone's personal resentments usually resulted in a backlash she didn't have the energy to fight.

The engagement gala took place six days later in the grand ballroom of the grandest hotel downtown. The event was a massive, overwhelming spectacle of high society. Everywhere alora looked, there were corporate CEOs, politicians, foreign investors, and a wall of media reporters flashing cameras at the entrance.

The sheer volume of people made her dizzy with anxiety. As she walked through the crowd, whispers followed her like a persistent hum.

“Is that the Cole girl?”

“How completely ordinary.”

“I heard her father practically begged for the connection.”

“What on earth does Damien see in her?”

The comments weren't meant to be overheard, but in a room filled with people pretending to be polite, the insults slipped out easily. alora kept her shoulders back and her chin parallel to the floor, using the emotional armor she had built over years of surviving Victoria's household.

Halfway through the evening, Damien appeared at her side. The moment he stepped into the light, the whispers around them intensified, turning into a flurry of camera clicks. Standing next to him, the contrast was impossible to ignore. He was completely composed, commanding the room without saying a single word, while she felt entirely out of place in her heavy gown.

A prominent reporter pushed through the crowd, microphone extended. "Mr. Hartwell! A question for the press, if you please. Are you happy about this sudden engagement? Is there a romance we didn't see coming?"

The ballroom seemed to hold its breath. alora felt her pulse quicken, her eyes drifting toward Damien's profile. For a split second, a tiny, naive part of her hoped for a polite lie—something to make her feel human in front of the crowd.

Damien’s expression remained perfectly neutral. "The union represents a highly beneficial strategic alliance for both the Hartwell Group and the Cole family's current projects. We are looking forward to a productive future."

The answer was flawless, professional, and completely devoid of any human warmth. It was the statement of a CEO announcing a successful acquisition. The reporters nodded, satisfied with the business quote, and the crowd began to drift away to the bars. alora felt a cold, hollow sensation settle deep in her chest. She had known the reality of the situation, but hearing it stated so plainly to the world still felt like a door slamming shut.

Late into the night, when the noise of the ballroom became too suffocating to bear, alora slipped through a set of glass doors onto a secluded, high-floor balcony. The cool night air rushed over her face, helping to clear the fog of perfume and champagne from her mind. Below, the city lights stretched out like a field of diamonds. For the first time in days, she could actually breathe.

"Trying to escape?"

The deep, resonant voice made her jump. She turned quickly to find Damien standing near the threshold of the balcony. He had discarded his suit jacket, and his silk tie was loosened slightly at the collar, but his posture still carried that same undeniable authority.

alora looked back out at the skyline, her hands gripping the stone railing. "I just needed a few minutes of quiet."

Damien walked forward, stopping a few feet away. He didn't crowd her, but his presence was impossible to ignore. He looked out over the city, the wind catching his dark hair.

"You managed the press remarkably well tonight," he observed, his tone conversational but measured. "Most people crack under that many lenses."

alora let out a small, humorless breath. "I've had a lot of practice pretending things don't bother me."

A brief silence settled over the balcony. It wasn't comfortable, but the suffocating pressure from the ballroom was gone. Gathering her courage, alora turned her head to look at him. "Can I ask you a direct question, Mr. Hartwell?"

"Go ahead."

"Why did you actually agree to this? Your family holds all the power in this city. If you wanted to break the arrangement, your mother couldn't have stopped you. Why me?"

For the first time since they had met, a shadow of something real flickered across Damien's face. It was gone in an instant, but alora caught the subtle tightening of his jaw—a flash of pure, exhausting weariness.

"Because sometimes," Damien said, his voice dropping into a quiet, gravelly tone that sounded entirely detached from his public persona, "even people with power don't get to choose their path."

alora stared at him, the response catching her completely off guard. Before she could ask him to clarify, Damien checked his watch, his professional mask sliding back over his features instantly.

"The main event is wrapping up. I should return to the floor," he said shortly.

Without another word, he turned and walked back through the glass doors, leaving her alone in the cool night air. alora watched his retreating figure disappear into the crowd. She looked down at the heavy diamond ring on her finger, wondering if she had just caught a glimpse of her future husband, or simply another prisoner trapped inside a cage they had both inherited.