hi lovies here is part three :)!!
Every time your eyes drifted shut you saw the same thing.
You forcing yourself to say words you didn’t mean.
By the time dawn spilled through the curtains your head pounded so violently you thought you might be sick.
This one came softer than the others.
You whispered so quietly you almost didn’t hear yourself.
Five women entered carrying garment bags.
No one spoke above a whisper.
Even they seemed to understand today was different.
One woman approached carefully.
“We’ve prepared your bath.”
The maids exchanged relieved glances.
You wrapped your hands around the warm porcelain.
Your fingers shook so badly the tea rippled against the sides.
Halfway through the cup your stomach protested.
The apology slipped out before you realised you’d spoken.
The oldest maid smiled sadly.
“You have nothing to apologise for.”
The house came alive before midday.
Music echoed through every hallway.
Fresh flowers were carried in by the dozen.
Staff hurried between rooms with impossible urgency.
Someone laughed downstairs.
To everyone else today was a celebration.
To you It felt like the final page of your life.
The dress was waiting where you’d left it yesterday.
Sunlight caught every pearl sewn into the bodice.
It looked even more beautiful than you remembered.
One maid carefully helped slide it over your shoulders.
Another fastened every tiny button down your back.
One adjusted the sleeves.
Someone else secured the veil.
They treated you with the same care someone might use handling priceless porcelain.
Not because you were precious.
Because breaking the bride before the ceremony would be inconvenient.
You stared into the mirror.
The woman looking back smiled nowhere.
A ghost dressed in white.
Downstairs Max adjusted the cuff of his jacket for what felt like the hundredth time.
The black suit fit perfectly.
His mother circled him once before nodding approvingly.
“You look like your father.”
His expression remained unreadable.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
His mother’s smile faded.
She folded her hands together.
Her voice became quieter. “there may be more to this story than we’ve been told.”
His jaw tightened instantly.
“Three men who never actually saw her help Victoria.”
She reached up smoothing an invisible crease from his lapel.
“that certainty doesn’t become something you regret.”
Before he could answer one of the guards entered.
You couldn’t hear any of it.
Your heartbeat drowned everything else out.
The chapel doors remained closed.
Someone adjusted your veil one final time.
Another squeezed your hand gently.
Neither of them believed it.
The enormous wooden doors slowly opened.
Hundreds of faces turned towards you.
The aisle stretched endlessly ahead.
At the very end he stood waiting.
His expression gave away nothing.
Maybe just maybe your father changed his mind.
Your eyes swept over every row.
Members of the organisation.
Your father hadn’t even come to watch.
The last fragile piece of hope inside you crumbled.
You took your first step.
Each one felt heavier than the last.
You weren’t walking towards your future.
You were walking away from yourself.
Max watched you from the altar.
Every bride he’d ever seen smiled.
You did none of those things.
You walked like someone carrying chains no one else could see.
Your gaze never lifted from the floor.
For one impossible second you reminded him of prisoners he’d once seen escorted into court.
Not because they were guilty.
Because they already knew their sentence.
A thought forced itself into his mind before he could stop it.
He crushed it immediately.
Actions had consequences.
He noticed how pale you were.
The makeup artist had done everything possible.
The dark circles beneath your eyes remained.
Your lips had almost lost their colour.
His gaze flicked briefly towards the front pew.
The seat reserved for your father remained empty.
For the first time since this arrangement had begun something inside him felt strangely unsettled.
Someone gently placed your hand into his.
The second his fingers touched yours he almost frowned.
Like you’d been standing outside in winter.
Your fingers trembled against his.
Because your entire body was shaking.
The officiant smiled warmly.
“We are gathered here today”
His voice blurred into meaningless noise.
You stared straight ahead.
You couldn’t hear the words.
You couldn’t feel your feet.
This was really happening.
And there was nothing left you could do.
The officiant smiled kindly.
His voice carried effortlessly through the chapel.
“We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two families”
The word echoed strangely inside your head.
Your fingers remained trapped within Max’s hand.
It wasn’t even particularly tight.
Yet you couldn’t pull away.
The orchestra continued playing softly somewhere behind you.
Candles flickered against polished marble.
Anyone walking into the chapel would have thought they’d stumbled into a fairy tale.
No one would have guessed the bride wished she were dead or anywhere else.
The officiant continued speaking.
You heard almost none of it.
The words blurred together into meaningless sound.
Your heartbeat drowned everything else out.
You concentrated on that instead.
Anything to stop yourself from looking around.
Anything to stop yourself from crying again.
Max watched you from the corner of his eye.
Not once had you looked at him.
Not once had you looked at anyone.
Your eyes remained fixed somewhere ahead staring through the stained-glass windows as though they weren’t even there.
As though every emotion had finally burned itself out.
The officiant turned towards him first.
“Do you Max ‘Emilian Verstappen take—”
His answer came immediately.
A few guests smiled approvingly.
Someone quietly applauded.
The officiant turned towards you.
You couldn’t hear him anymore.
You couldn’t hear anything.
The bouquet slipped slightly within your hands.
Someone in the front row shifted.
The officiant smiled patiently.
Long enough for whispers to begin.
Your breathing had changed.
Your eyes looked strangely unfocused.
Like you weren’t even inside the chapel anymore.
The officiant cleared his throat gently.
One of the bridesmaids took a hesitant step forward.
You searched the crowd one last time.
Not because you believed anyone would come.
Because some stubborn little part of you still wanted to be wrong.
His chair remained empty.
Something inside your chest gave way.
Like glass finally cracking after holding too much weight.
A single tear rolled down your cheek.
You didn’t wipe them away.
You no longer cared who saw.
The officiant’s smile softened.
“I know emotions can be overwhelming.”
The guests chuckled warmly.
Someone whispered “She’s so happy.”
Instead your lips parted.
Your voice broke immediately.
The word refused to come.
Max’s eyes remained fixed on you.
For the first time he noticed your lips.
They’d almost turned white.
One of the elderly women seated near the front dabbed at her own eyes.
“They’re such beautiful tears.”
They were the tears of someone mourning a life she’d lost before she’d ever had the chance to live it.
You forced air into your lungs.
Every muscle in your body begged you not to speak.
Not to become Mrs. Verstappen.
But refusing changed nothing.
You already belonged to him.
The papers had been signed.
This ceremony was only for everyone else.
The words were barely louder than a whisper.
Yet somehow they echoed louder than anything else inside the chapel.
Max didn’t know why his chest suddenly felt so heavy.
Then why did it sound less like acceptance and more like surrender?
The rings were exchanged.
Cold platinum slid onto your finger.
It felt impossibly heavy.
Yet somehow it weighed more than anything you’d ever carried.
Max noticed you twisting it instinctively.
Simply trying to convince yourself it was real.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
Smiles spread throughout the chapel.
The orchestra swelled triumphantly.
The officiant looked between the two of you.
“You may kiss your bride.”
The room quieted expectantly.
Your eyes remained lowered.
Your breathing had become uneven again.
He knew every guest expected it.
The press outside would hear about every detail.
This marriage needed to appear perfect.
Slowly he stepped closer.
Not because you accepted him.
His hand lifted carefully beneath your chin.
The second his fingers brushed your skin you flinched.
For one fleeting heartbeat his hand froze.
Why had you reacted like that?
As if kindness no longer existed.
The thought came and went before he could examine it.
His lips barely touched your forehead.
A murmur spread through the guests.
Others sighed at the unexpected tenderness.
Not because you enjoyed it.
Because it was easier than looking at him.
“Mr. and Mrs. Verstappen.”
The applause was deafening.
Champagne glasses raised.
Congratulations echoed from every direction.
The name followed you all the way down the aisle.
Each repetition sounded less like a title and more like the final nail sealing shut the life you’d left behind.
Warm afternoon sunlight spilled across the marble steps.
A sea of applause followed the newlyweds outside.
Photographers called your names.
Camera shutters clicked relentlessly.
Every flash made your head pound harder.
You barely realised you were walking until Max’s hand settled lightly against the small of your back, guiding you down the steps.
It should have felt harmless.
Instead your entire body jerked.
His hand stopped for the briefest moment before he slowly let it fall away.
No one else seemed to notice.
The photographers certainly didn’t.
“The bride’s a little shy.”
A few guests smiled knowingly.
The reception hall glittered beneath enormous crystal chandeliers.
Music drifted through the room.
Champagne flowed endlessly.
People congratulated him.
Business partners shook his hand.
Old family friends embraced his mother.
Everywhere you looked people smiled.
People toasted your future.
Every congratulations felt heavier than the one before.
“You look absolutely stunning.”
“You make such a beautiful couple.”
You smiled because everyone expected you to.
The smile never reached your eyes.
One woman approached, perhaps in her late sixties.
She reached for both your hands.
“I’ve known Max since he was a little boy.”
The woman laughed softly.
“But underneath all that”
Either way It didn’t change what had happened.
The woman mistook your silence for nerves.
The words lodged painfully somewhere inside your chest.
You wondered what happiness even looked like anymore.
Across the room Max watched the interaction from a distance.
His cousin stepped beside him.
“You’ve barely looked at your own reception.”
The cousin followed his gaze until he found you standing perfectly still amongst strangers.
His cousin frowned slightly.
“She hasn’t smiled once.”
“She smiled for the photographers.”
“I’ve seen hostages look less miserable.”
His cousin lowered his voice.
You were politely thanking another guest.
Your movements were slower now.
Your shoulders drooped beneath the weight of your dress.
The bouquet had disappeared hours ago.
Now your hands simply remained clasped tightly together.
Almost as though if you let go you might fall apart.
Long tables filled with food stretched across the ballroom.
Every plate looked like artwork.
Everything prepared by the finest chefs money could buy.
You stared at the plate placed before you.
You hadn’t realised how hungry you were.
Carefully you picked up your fork.
The food barely reached your mouth before nausea rose violently.
You placed the fork back down.
Your appetite disappeared instantly.
Across the table Max noticed.
It came out quieter than intended.
Something about those two words nearly undid you.
At least she believed you were trying.
You lowered your head before anyone could see your eyes filling again.
Shared childhood stories.
You heard almost none of them.
Your head had begun spinning.
The room felt strangely warm.
Every laugh seemed too loud.
You pressed your fingertips discreetly against the edge of the table.
Max answered another congratulations with a nod before his attention drifted back towards you.
You weren’t listening anymore.
Your eyes had become unfocused.
One hand rested lightly against your temple.
Your breathing looked different.
His mother followed his gaze.
His eyes remained fixed on you.
“The guests will understand.”
His mother looked at him sharply.
For the first time that day neither did he.
Just then one of the older men approached your table carrying a champagne flute.
More glasses were raised.
Someone placed one into your hand.
The crystal felt strangely heavy.
“What was the moment you knew you loved him?”
Assuming you were embarrassed.
You stared at the champagne in your hands.
Tiny bubbles drifted slowly towards the surface.
Your fingers tightened around the stem.
You couldn’t remember the last time anyone had asked you about love.
Not enough for anyone else to notice.
Just enough that he recognised it.
You whispered so quietly only he heard it.
Not I don’t want to answer.
It wasn’t the answer of a bride.
It was the answer of someone who’d never been given the chance.
For the first time since this began the certainty he’d clung to shifted.
Only enough to let doubt breathe.
And doubt was a dangerous thing.
The room quietened with eager smiles.
A ripple of amused laughter swept through the guests.
“Careful now, don’t embarrass the poor bride.”
“We’re all romantics tonight.”
Dozens of eyes turned towards you.
The smile on your face slowly disappeared.
The colour had drained from your face completely.
Your fingers tightened around the delicate stem of the glass until your knuckles turned white.
The confession barely rose above a whisper.
Yet somehow Max heard every syllable.
The room fell awkwardly quiet.
The older gentleman cleared his throat, offering an embarrassed laugh.
“I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to figure it out.”
Several guests laughed politely.
Trying to smooth over the uncomfortable moment.
As though you’d somehow ruined your own wedding.
Max watched you for another heartbeat.
Your breathing had become uneven again.
The champagne glass trembled violently in your hand.
Your shoulders had begun to shake beneath the lace sleeves of your dress.
Without another word he reached forward and carefully took the untouched glass from your fingers before it slipped.
He handed it to a passing waiter.
Then he turned towards the room.
His voice cut effortlessly through every conversation.
The ballroom fell silent.
“I appreciate you all joining us today.”
“My wife has had a long day.”
His eyes flicked briefly towards you before returning to the guests.
“We’ll end the evening here.”
A murmur swept through the ballroom.
“The poor bride can barely keep her eyes open you ought to wait until the morning Max let her rest.”
His uncle lifted his glass.
Laughter spread once more.
“We’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. and Mrs. Verstappen.”
Max simply inclined his head.
“Thank you for understanding.”
Within minutes chairs scraped across polished floors.
Conversations resumed in smaller groups.
Guests gathered their coats.
The orchestra quietly stopped playing.
One by one the ballroom emptied.
Until only the two of you remained.
The silence that followed felt almost louder than the celebration itself.
You stared at the marble floor.
Unable to lift your head.
Not quite an invitation either.
Your breathing only grew quicker.
The further you walked from the ballroom the quieter the house became until the only sound left was the soft rustle of your dress against polished marble.
You couldn’t stop staring at the floor.
It was easier than thinking.
The bedroom door appeared at the end of the corridor.
Your feet slowed without you meaning them to.
The kind of voice that expected to be obeyed.
You stood perfectly still.
He stopped a few steps behind you.
Because the answer sounded ridiculous.
Because saying it out loud would make it real.
Of waking up every morning in a house that wasn’t yours.
Of never seeing your mother again.
Of never being called by your own surname.
Of becoming someone else.
A tear slipped down your cheek.
Your hands began shaking again.
“We’ve already done this.”
The words landed harder than he’d intended.
Your shoulders visibly flinched.
“Nothing is going to change.”
Something inside you simply gave up.
Your knees almost buckled before you caught yourself against the wall.
Your voice was barely audible.
“I know nothing’s going to change.”
Broken beyond recognition.
“My father doesn’t want me.”
“My best friend is gone.”
“My mother couldn’t even say goodbye.”
Each sentence came slower.
As though speaking required every ounce of strength you had left.
You looked down at the wedding ring on your finger.
The room became painfully still.
Because there wasn’t anything to say.
You wiped your face with trembling fingers.
“I’ve spent two days trying to convince myself”
“That maybe this wasn’t happening.”
“That maybe I’d die in my sleep”.
You finally looked at him.
“I don’t know who I am anymore.”
Those seven words struck him harder than he expected.
Not because they proved your innocence.
Because they sounded true.
There was no manipulation.
Just a woman mourning herself.
His answer came automatically.
The word escaped you before you realised you’d spoken.
Your breathing quickened.
You took another step backwards.
“You don’t have a choice.”
You clutched the fabric over your chest as though your own heartbeat hurt.
Your breathing became uneven.
“So many people have already decided who I am.”
“You think I betrayed your family.”
Tears blurred your vision completely now.
“Daniel was there he knows everything he knows that I never helped her that I only covered for her because she begged me to.”
You took another shaky breath.
“She said she’d tell you.”
“She— swore she would reach out to you don’t hate her please she didn’t know what to do.”
“Don’t hurt me please don’t hurt me”
Your words dissolved into sobs.
The panic was taking over.
You couldn’t slow your breathing.
You slid slowly down the wall until you were sitting on the floor your wedding dress pooling around you like spilled milk.
You whispered it to no one.
He’d expected bargaining.
A bride sitting on the floor in a wedding dress crying because she’d forgotten who she was.
You looked impossibly small.
You pulled your knees closer to yourself uncaring that the expensive satin wrinkled beneath you.
“I just want to go home.”
The words were so quiet he almost didn’t hear them.
The place she still believed existed.
He took one hesitant step forward.
The movement alone made you panic.
You scrambled backwards across the polished floor.
Your breathing became frantic.
You smiled through tears.
Your chest hitched violently.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
Everything suddenly sounded far away.
The last thing you felt was your body giving up.
One moment you were sitting against the wall.
Darkness swallowed everything.
Before your head struck the marble strong arms caught you.
For one endless second Max simply stood there.
Holding the unconscious woman he’d spent months convincing himself deserved every bit of this.
She weighed almost nothing.
Far less than she should.
Her breathing was shallow.
Her cheeks were still wet.
He looked at the tear tracks staining her face.
Then at the wedding ring on her finger.
And for the first time Revenge didn’t feel like victory.
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