My marriage to Rexhard Black was supposed to be the culmination of my life. It was our wedding day, a moment I had once dreamed of, though my reality had long since turned into a nightmare. Rexhard, my so called childhood sweetheart, had been my only solace in a household that felt like hell. He was a breath of fresh air to the suffocation I endured, or so I had believed.
My family wasn't a mafia house, but they sold me to one as though I were a prized trinket. On my 18th birthday, they revealed their grand plan to merge our family with Rexhard's empire, through marriage of course. I didn't care if he was mafia. I didn't care if I was being offered to him on a golden platter like some trophy. What mattered to me was that I thought I loved him.
Until now.
Standing in the doorway of the reception room, I saw my fiancé pinning my sister against the wall. Her moans filled the room as he thrust into her with a fervor he had never shown me. His earlier promise to wait until after the wedding to consummate our marriage felt like a cruel joke now.
A part of me wanted to believe this could be forgiven, until my sister's whisper shattered that hope.
"You'll love and fuck only me, right, Rexhard? You promised you wouldn't give her a child. Why can't we just get married and have the baby instead!?"
Rexhard chuckled darkly, his response dripping with contempt. "I need her, Sophie. She's my golden ticket to her father's company. She's nothing but a facial paralysis, lifeless doll incapable of smiling and of feeling. You think I could ever love her? You're the only one I want, baby."
"Don't worry," he continued, his voice laced with venom. "After the wedding, I'll make her life hell. I'll send her pictures of us, flaunt our love, and make sure she suffers just for existing."
It was as though the pristine white of my wedding dress was mocking me. Before I could turn and walk away, Rexhard's gaze caught mine. His smirk deepened as he calmly buttoned his trousers. My sister, looking only mildly annoyed, tossed me a disdainful glance as though I were the intruder.
"You see what I mean, Sophie? Your sister really is crazy," Rexhard sneered before addressing me. "Shall we? The guests are waiting."
I didn't cry. I didn't scream. Instead, I smiled, a hollow, lifeless smile that made his eyes narrow. "Sure," I said coolly, my voice devoid of emotion.
He faltered for a moment, clearly expecting a reaction. My indifference seemed to enrage him more than any outburst could have.
He was going to regret this.
And forgive me for the earlier slip, I've never loved Rexhard. Did I say childhood sweethearts? It's more like childhood rivals. Rivals for a secret I'm not ready to share.
But I had questions for him. "Did you enjoy fucking my little sister? How long did it take you to deceive her?"
Rexhard's smirk widened. "Oh, Samantha, don't tell me you're jealous. I didn't think you'd stoop to being discourteous".
"Discourteous?" I echoed, my tone icy. "Hurry to the altar, Rex. We've got a wedding to attend, and I'd hate to keep our guests waiting."
His laugh grated on my nerves.
"And oh, I've prepared a little gift for you, " I continued. You'll find out soon enough.
"Don't do anything stupid, Samantha. It'd be such a shame to disgrace ourselves in front of our guests". Rexhard imbued a warning.
I smiled again. You'll regret everything, I said in my head, just you wait.
Rexhard Black was undeniably handsome, I'd give him that. But beneath that perfect façade, we hated each other to the core. It was a hate born from inevitability, from knowing since childhood that we were destined to marry because of our families. Perhaps that's what fueled our animosity: the lack of choice.
We spared no expense in getting under each other's skin. Every word, every glance, every opportunity was another battlefield. He hated the way my features never changed and he went out of his way to make that happen, and too bad for him I wasn't letting out a smile for that bastard.
Rexhard called me a facial paralytic, spitting the words like venom whenever I refused to rise to his taunts. But that wasn't enough for him. No, he had to pull his latest stunt, screwing my sister on our wedding day, expecting me to break down, to cry, to beg.
In his dreams.
I stood at the altar, draped in white, the picture-perfect bride. The whispers from the guests swirled around me like a storm, but I kept my face serene, a marble mask that betrayed nothing. Rexhard stood opposite me, smug and self-assured, his lips quirking upward.
The officiant began the ceremony, his voice droning in the background. My mind, however, was far from the words being spoken.
Samantha Delacroix, "Do you take Rexhard Black to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
"I do," I said, my voice calm and measured, though inside I burned with fury, wondering what his expression would be like if I ever said "I don't", would he still smirk and look all smug, I doubt that.
"And do you, Rexhard Black, take Samantha Delacroix to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
"I do," he replied, his smirk widening as he slid the ring onto my finger.
The applause was polite and undoubtedly restrained. The elite of the mafia world sat poised in their seats, ever the hypocritic picture of civility, their eyes gleaming with interest, hungry for the drama they surely suspected was brewing beneath the surface.
When Rexhard leaned in to kiss me, I didn't flinch. Instead, I tilted my head, letting him press his lips against mine. He expected resistance, but I gave him none.
As we walked down the aisle together, hand in hand, I could feel his annoyance. He hated that I wasn't giving him the reaction he craved. The mask I wore was my greatest weapon, and I wielded it expertly.