The morning of the anniversary arrived wrapped in gold sunlight and the scent of roses. The estate bloomed with luxury—chauffeured cars arrived one by one, spilling out men in tailored tuxedos and women in dresses that whispered wealth. The world was coming to celebrate the love story of Roman Ashborne: the billionaire who had finally tamed his heart.
Only she knew the truth.
Serene sat motionless before the mirror, the crimson dress cinched at the waist like a ribbon drawn tight around a wound. Her hair curled in soft waves, her lips painted blood-red. Lelo sat beside her, holding a necklace she insisted Serene wear.
"Pretty things make pretty memories," the girl whispered, carefully clasping the chain. "And you're supposed to look happy, remember?"
Serene didn't speak. Didn't blink. Her hands trembled on her lap, but her face—her face was still.
It was Roman who came to get her.
He didn't knock. He never did.
He looked devastating in a black suit, no tie, a ruby pin on his lapel. He walked toward her with a softness that made her want to scream. There was something colder in his beauty today—less man, more statue. Something inhuman carved into flesh.
"You're perfect," he murmured, adjusting a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Just like I pictured."
Her body flinched, but she nodded.
"You remember what I told you?" he asked.
"If I speak—" her voice cracked. "You burn it down."
"Exactly," he smiled.
He offered his arm.
She took it.
---
The ballroom shimmered with light and false joy. Strings played in the corner, champagne glasses clinked, and the scent of expensive perfume masked the rot beneath it all.
The media cameras rolled without rest. The billionaire's love story was a global headline now. Some thought she was shy. Others said she was modest. They didn't see the steel grip Roman had around her wrist. They didn't see the way her smile never reached her eyes.
Lelo twirled in the center of the room, basking in attention like a child on a stage. She ran to Serene often, clinging to her side, whispering lines Roman had made her rehearse.
"Tell everyone how happy we are, Mama," she'd say sweetly. "You love us, right?"
Serene nodded on cue. Smiled on cue. Swallowed her screams on cue.
Then came the toast.
Roman stood before the crowd, lifting his glass with the precision of a man who had waited a lifetime for this moment.
"Tonight," he began, "we celebrate not just love—but fate. I waited years for this woman. I crossed oceans for her. I broke rules… boundaries… even myself. But I have her now. And I intend to never let go."
Laughter. Applause. Clinking glasses.
He turned to Serene, eyes burning.
"To my wife," he said. "The light of my darkness."
Everyone cheered.
Serene smiled.
And inside, something in her began to die.
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