SERAPHIN’S POV

The three weeks prior to the wedding were spent in a flurry of whispered conversations and surreptitious glances. My mother, the practical one, was busy with the arrangements...dress, food, guest list. My father, on the other hand, was content in his own self-satisfaction, basking in the reflected glory of Mr. Ashford's riches. Nobody bothered to ask me how I was feeling. As always, my opinion was not important.

I walked through the house like a ghost, unseen and unheard. My room, my sanctuary, always, now a prison. I stayed there for the most part, looking out the window, watching the world pass by, a world which I would soon leave behind.

Then there was Isabelle. My step-sister. She'd been studying abroad for the past few years, something that had been mentioned constantly in order to rub her presumed superiority in my face. And now, conveniently enough to coincide with my impending doom, she was back.

Isabelle was all that I was not. So beautiful, so confident, so ruthlessly cold. She had always hated me, her disdain thinly covered by a facade of courteous contempt. She regarded me as competition, a danger, though I never had been. Her parents, my parents, catered to her, while I was an afterthought, a shadow on the fringe of their lives.

Her return only strengthened the sense of foreboding that had settled into my bones. She moved through the house like a queen, her laughter echoing off the walls, a stark contrast to the silence that surrounded me. And she made sure I knew it.

"Seraphina," she cooed, her own voice oozing saccharine sweetness as she located me in the kitchen, blankly staring at a half-eaten sandwich. "You look absolutely awful. Don't tell me you're actually nervous about marrying Mr. Ashford? Really, you ought to be thanking your lucky stars. Someone of your quality could never have hoped to snag a man like him on your own."

I winced, but said nothing. I had learned years earlier that it was a losing battle to respond to Isabelle. She thrived on my reactions, my suffering.

"I mean, just look at you," she went on, her eyes scanning my thin figure and worn out dress. "You're barely more than a waif. Mr. Ashford likely feels he's getting a charity case." She laughed, a chiming sound.

I tightened my fists, struggling to prevent the tears welling up in my eyes from spilling over. "Please, Isabelle," I begged.

"Please what?" she taunted. "Please don't say the obvious? Please don't try to act like you're not marrying him because you're desperate? Don't be absurd, Seraphina. We all know the truth."

She leaned in, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. "He only accepted the marriage because he felt sorry for you. Think about it, trapped with *you* for the rest of his life. Poor guy."

I looked away, not being able to take any more of her nastiness. I did know that she was correct, at least partially. Mr. Ashford could have had anyone he wanted. Why he wanted me, a nobody, was beyond me.

"Where do you think you're going?" Isabelle's voice halted me. She clutched my arm, her fingernails piercing my skin. "Don't you dare walk away from me. I'm not done with you yet."

I attempted to yank my arm free, but she clung to it. "Isabelle, please," I pleaded.

You see, I've been thinking," she stated, her eyes burning with spite. "You'll be living in his mansion, with all that money. It's a waste on you, don't you think? Someone like me would adore it so much more.".

My heart sank. I knew what she was proposing. She had always envied everything I had, even something as unpleasant as a marriage to a man who was rumored to be heartless.

"Do not worry," she said, smiling broadly, greedily. I will be sure to visit you frequently. I would not want you to become lonely."

She released my arm, red welts on my skin. She turned and was gone, her laughter echoing behind her.

I slumped into a chair, my body shaking. Isabelle's words had hurt, reinforcing my darkest fears. I was nothing, nobody, not even worthy of the scraps of happiness life had to offer.

The wedding day came upon us like a storm cloud, dark and ominous.

The house was a whirlwind of activity, people rushing to and fro, their voices calling out and urgent.

I was dressed in a white gown that felt heavy on me and suffocating.

It was a beautiful gown, but it felt like a costume, a disguise. I was playing a role, the blushing bride, even while my heart was breaking.

Isabelle, as always, was beautiful. She was my father's favorite daughter, the one who warranted all the good things in life. She stood beside my mother, smiling proudly, as if she were the bride.

As I had made my way down the aisle, my eyes locked on the altar, I had felt as though I was marching to my own death.

Mr. Ashford was already seated, towering over me, his expression as inscrutable as always. He was a statue, cold and unfeeling.

The ceremony was a haze of words and ritual. I hardly knew what was taking place.

I was numb, out of touch with reality. When the moment arrived to say the words "I do," my voice could hardly be heard.

There was a reception after the ceremony. I was surrounded by strangers, individuals that I had never met, all congratulating me, wishing me happiness.

They were hollow words, words without meaning. They did not know the truth.

They did not know that I was being traded, sold for money, my life bartered for the benefit of my family's loans.

Mr. Ashford and I hardly talked. He was courteous, yet aloof. He spoke to me as he would to a stranger, a business associate.

I knew then that my life with him would be no more than a transaction, a cold and loveless agreement.

As we walked away from the reception, I turned to look back at my family.

My mother smiled, a close, tense smile. My father nodded, his face a mask of contentment.

Isabelle, however, was nowhere to be found. I knew she was likely rejoicing, grateful that she had avoided my destiny.

As Mr. Ashford and I pulled away in his fancy car, I gazed out the window at the city lights, blurring through the tears that poured down my face.

I was leaving behind everything...my family, my home, my past. I was starting a new life, one of uncertainty and terror.

I was wedded to a man I had never met, a man who was rumored to be without heart.

And I gazed out into the night that lay ahead of me and could not help but speculate about the coming days, what my life would be like in the shadow of his control and his firm, unbreakable heart.