Chapter 20
Angela sat motionless in front of the mirror, her reflection a ghostly reminder of the woman she used to be. The bruises on her skin had faded, but the wounds inside her festered, raw and unhealing. Her eyes once filled with life were hollow, empty voids that stared back at her without recogn She was a stranger to herself, a mere shadow of the girl who once dared to dream.
Beside her, the wedding dress hung on the rack, an elegant masterpiece of silk and lace. To anyone else, it would have been a symbol of love, of devotion. But to Angela, it was a shroud. A noose disguised in satin, waiting to tighten around her throat.
She had stopped fighting. Stopped hoping. The battle had been over long before she ever realized it had begun. Mikhail had won,
The past few days had been a blur of suffocating opulence. He had taken her shopping for the wedding, parading her through the most extravagant boutiques, his hands possessive, his voice smooth with control. The attendants had gushed over her, dressing her in gowns as if she were a doll, their admiration laced with oblivion. They hadn’t seen the quiet tremble in her fingers. They hadn’t noticed how her pulse spiked every time Mikhail leaned in too close. They noticed nothing and no one ever would.
He had chosen everything. The dress. The jewelry. The shoes. Even the scent that clung to her skin. Every delicate thread, every shimmering diamond, all woven into the tapestry of her captivity.
Now, on the eve of her wedding, Angela sat alone, feeling the fabric of the gown that would seal her fate. The weight in her chest grew heavier, pressing down, making it hard to breathe. Her trembling fingers ghosted over the delicate embroidery, tracing patterns she could not feel. Tears welled in her eyes, silent and unbidden, slipping down her cheeks like liquid sorrow.
She had once believed in love. In freedom. In a future she could call her own.
How foolish she had been.
Her body curled in on itself as she collapsed onto the bed, pulling her knees to her chest. Silent sobs wracked her body, the kind that shook her to the core, the kind that made her feel like she was unraveling thread by thread. She wanted to disappear. To vanish into the nothingness, to dissolve into the quiet void where pain could no longer reach her.
Tomorrow, she would belong to him.
There would be no escape. No second chances. No dreams of running away. Only him. Only his world. Only his rules.
A suffocating silence filled the room, thick and impenetrable. It swallowed her whole, making her feel smaller, more insignificant. Her lips trembled as she pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the rapid beat of her heart–a frantic, desperate thing trapped in its cage.
And then, in the depths of her despair, she whispered the only plea her soul could muster.
“God… if You can hear me…
help me.”
Her voice cracked, barely above a whisper. It had been years since she had prayed. Not since she was a little girl, back when she still believed someone was listening. But now? Now, she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure if God even heard the cries of people like her.
“I don’t know if You listen,” she murmured, fingers digging into the sheets as a fresh wave of anguish crashed over her. “I don’t know if You care… but if You do… please… don’t let this happen.”
A sob tore through her throat, raw and broken. “I wanted to be strong. I wanted to fight. But I can’t. He’s too powerful… and I’m too weak.”
Her hands clutched her chest as if she could hold herself together, keep from falling apart completely. “Is this my fate? To be owned? To be nothing more than a possession?”
The silence that followed was deafening.
No answer. No sign. Just the quiet hum of the night, the same emptiness that had chased her for as long as she could remember.
And yet, she kept speaking. Because what else did she have left?
e
Chapter 20
“I used to dream,” she whispered. “Of running free. Of love. Of a home that was safe. But dreams are just lies, aren’t they?”
She inhaled sharply, as if the weight of her sorrow could be exhaled away. “If You won’t save me… if this is truly my fate… then at least… don’t let me lose myself.”
She wiped her tears, forcing herself to sit up. The emptiness in her chest remained, a hollow void where hope used to live. But she had spoken her truth into the void, and for now, that was all she had.
Sleep did not come that night. She lay awake, blinking in the haunting silnece, her heart a fragile, broken thing caught in a storm. Every tick of the clock was a countdown to the moment she would be shackled in gold and silk, bound to a man who had already stolen every part of her.
By morning, the sun had turned from a beacon of hope into an executioner’s blade. Its light was merciless, illuminating the prison she could no longer
ignore.
They dressed her in the gown. The fabric clung to her skin like chains, each delicate stitch tightening around her, suffocating her. The veil was placed over her head, a final, cruel mockery of innocence. She was escorted by his men to the venue.
And then, the doors before her opened.
Mikhail stood at the altar, his gaze piercing, his power absolute.
Tatiana helped her walk down the isle. Every step toward him felt like a descent into the abyss. The walls closed in around her, the air growing thinner with every breath. And when she finally reached him, when his fingers closed around hers in a grip that promised possession, not affection, she understood the truth.
There was no way out.
Not anymore.
