Chapter 4 The Wedding Day

The day arrived far too quickly. Sophia stood before the gilded mirror in the Blackwood Manor bridal suite, staring at the woman reflected back at her. Her wedding gown was exquisite, custom-designed in white satin with delicate lace sleeves that trailed down to her wrists. It fit her perfectly, a creation that made her look like a princess—but inside, she felt more like a prisoner. Her fingers trembled as she adjusted the diamond necklace Adrian had sent that morning. It was dazzling, no doubt worth more than her family’s crumbling estate, but its weight around her neck felt suffocating. “Stop fidgeting,” whispered Fiona, one of Adrian’s hired stylists, as she pinned the last of Sophia’s hair into an elegant updo. “You look stunning, dear. Mr. Blackwood will be very pleased.” Sophia managed a faint smile, though the words offered little comfort. The last few days had been a whirlwind of fittings, rehearsals, and meetings with Adrian’s staff, all meticulously orchestrated to ensure the perfect wedding. Yet, despite the grandeur, the occasion felt hollow, like a stage production with her cast as the unwilling star. “Are you nervous?” asked Clara, the only bridesmaid in attendance. A longtime friend of the family, Clara had volunteered to be at Sophia’s side for moral support, though even she had voiced her concerns about the arrangement. Sophia met Clara’s gaze in the mirror. “Wouldn’t you be?” Clara sighed, her expression softening. “I still think you deserve better than this, Soph. But... I also know why you’re doing it. You’re stronger than I could ever be.” Sophia reached out and squeezed Clara’s hand. “Thank you for being here. I don’t think I could do this alone.” The knock on the door interrupted their moment. The butler’s voice came through, calm and professional as always. “Miss Bennett, it’s time.” Sophia’s heart lurched. Clara gave her a reassuring smile. “Let’s get this over with.” --- The ceremony was held in the grand ballroom of Blackwood Manor, transformed into a breathtaking vision of white roses, cascading chandeliers, and shimmering golden accents. Dozens of guests filled the room, most of them unfamiliar faces from Adrian’s world—business partners, industry moguls, and social elites. Sophia felt their eyes on her as she walked down the aisle, each step heavy with the weight of expectation. Her father escorted her, his grip on her arm both steady and apologetic. When she finally reached the altar, her gaze met Adrian’s for the first time that day. He was waiting in his wheelchair, dressed in a sharp black tuxedo that somehow made him look even more imposing. His expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—approval, perhaps? Or was it relief? “You look beautiful,” Adrian said quietly as she took her place beside him. “Thank you,” Sophia replied, her voice barely audible. The officiant began the ceremony, his deep voice echoing through the room. Sophia tried to focus on his words, but her mind kept drifting. How had her life come to this? Standing here, marrying a man she barely knew, all for the sake of saving her family? When it was time for the vows, Adrian spoke with practiced ease, his tone confident and composed. “I, Adrian Blackwood, take you, Sophia Bennett, to be my wife. I promise to provide, protect, and respect you, for as long as we both shall live.” Sophia’s chest tightened. His words were perfect, almost too perfect, as if rehearsed to hide something deeper. When it was her turn, she forced herself to speak. “I, Sophia Bennett, take you, Adrian Blackwood, to be my husband. I promise to stand by you and fulfill my duties as your wife, for as long as we both shall live.” Her voice wavered slightly, but she made it through. The officiant smiled and continued, declaring them husband and wife. “You may kiss the bride,” he said, stepping back with a flourish. Sophia’s heart raced as Adrian leaned forward. The kiss was brief, a mere brush of lips, but it was enough to send a ripple of applause through the crowd. She felt hollow inside. --- The reception that followed was a blur of music, laughter, and endless introductions. Adrian remained by her side, his demeanor polite but distant as he introduced her to his world. “This is my wife, Sophia,” he said repeatedly, each time with the same calm authority. She smiled and nodded, exchanging pleasantries with strangers who seemed more interested in her appearance than in her personality. By the time the evening drew to a close, Sophia was utterly exhausted. --- Later that night, she found herself in a different wing of the mansion, standing outside a room Adrian’s staff had called “hers.” “Your belongings have been moved here,” the butler informed her before leaving. Sophia opened the door, stepping into a lavish bedroom adorned in soft creams and golds. It was beautiful, yet it felt cold and impersonal, like a hotel suite rather than a home. She sank onto the edge of the bed, kicking off her heels and burying her face in her hands. This was her life now—a stranger’s wife, living in a mansion that felt more like a gilded cage. A knock at the door startled her. “Come in,” she said hesitantly. Adrian entered, his wheelchair rolling silently across the plush carpet. He studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Are you settling in?” he asked. “As well as can be expected,” she replied, her tone guarded. Adrian nodded. “I know this isn’t easy for you, Sophia. But I meant what I said—I’ll make sure you’re comfortable here.” She met his gaze, searching for any sign of the man beneath the billionaire façade. “Comfortable isn’t the same as happy, Adrian.” His lips twitched, almost forming a smile. “No, it’s not. But perhaps, in time, you’ll find both.” With that, he turned to leave, pausing at the doorway. “Goodnight, Mrs. Blackwood.” Sophia watched him go, her heart heavy with questions she didn’t yet know how to ask. And as she lay in the unfamiliar bed that night, staring at the ornate ceiling, one thought echoed in her mind: Who was Adrian Blackwood, really?