The news spread like a plague, sweeping through high society with explosive speed.
Emma Ai, Alpha heir of Ai Group, was set to marry Gu Liang—the mysterious rising star and founder of First Heart Capital, an Omega—next month.
The announcement was even more shocking than the previous rumors of an Ai–Li family alliance. Just weeks ago, gossip had claimed Emma and Gu Liang had broken up, with whispers of Emma's infidelity. And First Heart's ruthless assault on Ai Group was public knowledge. By all accounts, they should be enemies.
Now they were getting married?
Speculation ran wild. Some called it a dramatic reconciliation, a merger of love and business. Others said Emma was trying to win back her true love. And many believed it was pure coercion—Gu Liang using capital to force her hand.
Regardless of the rumors, the wedding preparations moved forward with stunning speed and opulence. Every detail—venue, guest list, ceremony—was orchestrated by Gu Liang. Emma had no say. She was a puppet, programmed to appear at the right place, at the right time.
The wedding day dawned bright and clear. Sunlight bathed the island venue, but none of it reached Emma's heart.
She wore a custom-tailored white Alpha suit from an Italian designer. It fit perfectly, highlighting her tall frame and striking features. But in the mirror, her eyes were hollow, her face pale. She looked less like a groom, more like a prisoner walking to execution.
The ceremony was held on a private island—blue sea, white sand, floral arches. Guests filled the space: shareholders, partners, even those who had once criticized Prometheus. Now they smiled politely, as if the past had never happened.
Emma stood beneath the arch, listening to the wedding march. Every second felt like torture. She stared down the aisle, waiting for the man who would become her legal spouse.
When Gu Liang appeared, a hush fell over the crowd.
He wore a white suit—sharp, minimalist, nothing like a traditional Omega wedding gown. No veil. His black hair was neatly styled. His face was expressionless, cold. No bouquet in hand, just arms at his sides.
He walked steadily, eyes forward. He didn't glance at the guests. He didn't look at Emma.
Sunlight hit him like a cold halo. He was breathtaking. And terrifying.
Emma's heart clenched. Her pheromones stirred. But stronger than instinct was a suffocating fear. The man approaching her felt like a stranger.
He stopped in front of her. Their eyes met.
Emma searched for something—anything. Familiarity. Emotion. Even hatred.
There was nothing.
His gaze was like a frozen lake. Deep. Cold. No reflection. Not even of her.
The officiant began the vows. Sacred words, absurd in this moment.
"Ms. Emma Ai, do you take Mr. Gu Liang as your lawful wife? In sickness and health, in wealth and poverty, to love and cherish until death do you part?"
Emma's throat tightened. Willing? How could she be willing? In this forced, bitter union, the word was a cruel joke.
Silence. All eyes on her.
She felt her father's warning gaze. The guests' curiosity.
She opened her mouth. Dry lips moved. Two words escaped.
"…I do."
Hoarse. Emotionless.
The officiant paused, sensing the tension, then turned to Gu Liang.
"Mr. Gu Liang, do you take Ms. Emma Ai as your lawful husband? In sickness and health, in wealth and poverty, to love and cherish until death do you part?"
Gu Liang looked at Emma's pale, rigid face. His lips twitched—barely. A ghost of a smile. Gone in an instant.
Then, in a clear, unwavering voice:
"I do."
No love. No shyness. No anticipation. Just cold certainty—like completing a transaction.
During the ring exchange, Emma's hands trembled. The platinum band felt like a shackle. Gu Liang's movements were smooth, precise—like signing a contract.
"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you legally married. You may kiss your groom."
The final ritual.
Emma froze. She stared at Gu Liang's calm face. His pale lips.
Kiss him? In front of everyone? This man who hated her, who bound her with marriage?
She couldn't.
Gu Liang didn't wait. He stepped forward.
Eyes open, gaze locked on her pain, he tilted his head and pressed his lips to hers.
Cool. Soft. But chilling to the bone.
No love. No desire. Just a cold, territorial mark.
It ended in a heartbeat.
Polite applause. Whispers.
Gu Liang stepped back, as if nothing had happened. He even offered the crowd a faint, formulaic smile.
Emma stood motionless, drained. The cold touch lingered on her lips.
The reception continued—drinks, greetings, congratulations. Emma moved like a ghost, completing each task.
She watched Gu Liang charm the guests, poised and eloquent. His occasional glances toward her were icy reminders of the truth.
Night fell. Fireworks lit the sky—brilliant, fleeting.
Emma stood alone on the shore, watching beauty vanish into darkness.
She was married. To the man she once tried to escape. In the most humiliating, forced way possible.
The fireworks exploded in her eyes. Then faded. Just like her hope.
This grand, luxurious, envy-inducing wedding—was, to her, a funeral.
Burying her freedom. Her dignity. And the last fragile illusion of love.
In the shadows nearby, Gu Liang watched her stiff, lonely figure. His champagne untouched.
The fireworks flickered across his face, revealing a cold, unreadable light in his eyes.
The game had entered a new phase. The cage was sealed.
Welcome, my dear "wife"… to the hell I built for you.