Cold vows, Hot revenge. Crowned in Slience

The cathedral bells rang across Castellane like a cruel melody.

Their deep, heavy toll echoed through the towering marble halls of Saint Velmor Cathedral - as if warning her. As if mocking her.

You don't belong here, Katherine.

Yet here she was, standing beneath the grand gilded archway, the weight of a thousand stares pressing down on her.

The city of Velmora's elite had gathered: royal families, powerful billionaires, ancient nobility, political giants.

And at the center of it all - her husband.

Alessio Romano.

The man who would never love her.

The man who never even tried.

He stood at the altar beneath the stained glass like a king at a coronation.

Broad shoulders. Impeccable black tuxedo. Silver-gray eyes as cold as the empire he ruled.

Romano International.

The most feared conglomerate in Velmora.

A dynasty built by ruthless ambition, solidified by generational power, and controlled by Alessio's iron will.

Katherine's pulse quickened as their eyes met.

He didn't smile. He didn't soften.

His gaze assessed her like a final inspection before a transaction closed.

Beautiful enough for public optics. Polished enough for the media. Safe enough to control.

The Whitmore heiress he believed was simply Katherine.

He didn't know. He never asked.

The priest's voice carried through the vast cathedral.

"Do you, Alessio Romano, take Katherine to be your lawfully wedded wife?

"I do." His voice was smooth. Calculated. Emotionless.

"Do you, Katherine, take Alessio Romano to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do." Her voice didn't tremble. Not yet.

"You may now kiss the bride."

Alessio leaned in. His lips grazed hers in a cold, rehearsed motion.

No tenderness.

No desire.

No love.

The cameras flashed. The orchestra swelled. The crowd applauded.

And Katherine smiled for the picture.

For the illusion.

The Reception

The grand ballroom inside Palazzo Romano was drenched in obscene luxury.

Gold pillars. Crystal chandeliers. Velvet tapestries embroidered with the Romano family crest.

It was a stage for the elite - where alliances were built and legacies flaunted. But the bride was alone.

Katherine sat at the head table as dignitaries approached one by one, offering their rehearsed congratulations. She smiled. She nodded. She played her role perfectly.

Her husband?

He worked the room like a corporate warlord.

Negotiating, sealing deals, charming foreign investors who had flown into Velmora for the occasion.

Alessio was not here for love.

He never had been.

His grandfather had demanded this marriage for legacy. For appearance. For control.

Alessio had complied - like any good CEO managing public relations and Katherine had been the perfect solution.

Beautiful. Composed. Quiet. Safe.

From across the ballroom, Bianca drifted through the crowd like venom wrapped in silk.

Her jet-black gown clung to her body like a warning shot, and her blood-red lips curved into a smirk as she made deliberate eye contact with Katherine.

The message was clear:

He'll always come back to me.

Katherine's stomach twisted, but her expression never broke.

The Suite - Hours Later

The honeymoon suite inside Palazzo Romano was empty when she arrived.

Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked Castellane's glittering skyline.

Champagne chilled untouched on the table.

Soft candlelight flickered against ivory marble.

And still - no husband.

Minutes became hours.

At 2:37 a.m., her phone lit up on the nightstand.

"Business emergency. Don't wait up." - Alessio.

Her chest burned as she stared at the message.

At 3:00 a.m., the knock came.

Her best friend Lila slipped inside, eyes wild with fury.

"Katherine... you need to know the truth."

Katherine's throat tightened. "Don't."

"He's not at a meeting." Lila's voice trembled.

"He left hours ago. He's with Bianca."

The gown clung to Katherine's untouched body like a cruel joke. Her wedding night - unclaimed.

Her marriage - nothing more than a merger.

Her heart - shattered in cold silence.

She walked to the towering window, staring out across the sleeping capital.

The entire city celebrated her marriage tonight.

They called her lucky.

But they didn't know.

No one knew.

And Alessio had no idea who he had truly married.

The Whitmore blood that ran through her veins was worth more than his entire empire.

And tonight, as something inside her snapped, she made a silent vow:

You wanted a wife you could control.

You married an heiress who will destroy you.