Divorced After Marriage

Panic swept through the entire Hart household. Inside a luxurious dressing room at a five-star hotel, a white wedding gown lay draped over the sofa, while the sound of sobs and frantic footsteps echoed from behind the door.

"She... she disappeared?" Elena asked, her voice trembling.

Her mother, Mrs. Hart, looked deathly pale. "Clarissa ran away, Elena. She left this note." Her hand shook as she passed a small piece of paper to Elena.

"Forgive me. I can't marry Damien Blackwood. I love someone else."

Elena swallowed hard. "The wedding is in an hour, Mom. What are we-"

"I'm begging you, Elena," Mrs. Hart interrupted, her eyes glassy with tears. "If we cancel this, Damien will destroy our family. He's not an ordinary man."

Their father, seated in a wheelchair, looked just as pale. "Damien could terminate all business deals with my company. Thousands of jobs depend on this marriage."

Elena felt the world spin. She was just an art graduate, not a socialite trained to become the wife of a corporate heir. But seeing her mother's tears and the tension on her father's face, she knew the answer had already been decided.

"Get the dress ready," Elena said at last, slowly but firmly. "I'll take Clarissa's place."

The gown fit her perfectly, as if it had been meant for her all along. But Elena's heart pounded wildly as she walked down the hotel corridor toward the grand ballroom, accompanied by classical music that was meant to welcome Clarissa.

All eyes turned to her. Some guests gasped and whispered-they knew this was not the same woman from the invitations. But Elena held her head high. There was no room for doubt.

At the altar stood Damien Blackwood.

Tall, handsome, and... cold.

His gray eyes pierced into hers as she approached. His jaw clenched. "Is this a joke?" he whispered once she reached him.

Elena tried to smile, though her lips were stiff. "Clarissa didn't come. I was asked to replace her."

Damien's brows furrowed. But before he could react further, the officiant began speaking. The guests looked confused but remained silent. Media cameras captured every moment. No one dared to stop the ceremony-not even Damien.

And so, without love, without true consent, Elena and Damien were declared husband and wife.

At the reception, laughter rang hollow and smiles were all diplomatic. Elena stood beside Damien, who hadn't spoken a single word since the ceremony ended.

"Thank you for not stopping the wedding," Elena said softly.

Damien slowly turned to her. "Don't get it twisted. I only did it to save face for my family. But you..." His eyes raked over her. "...you're the stand-in bride I never wanted."

Elena bit her lip. "I know."

A soft chime rang out. The host invited the bride and groom for their first dance.

"Wonderful," Damien muttered coldly. "Now we have to pretend we love each other."

His hand gripped Elena's waist as they stepped onto the dance floor. Gentle music played. Spotlights illuminated them. But between them, the air was frozen.

"I don't know who's more pathetic tonight," Damien whispered. "You, for agreeing to be used as a substitute. Or me, for being stuck with a stranger."

Elena turned to meet his eyes. "I didn't ask for this. I did it for my family."

Damien let out a dry chuckle. "Just like your sister. Money and power always lure the Hart women."

"Don't compare me to Clarissa," Elena snapped.

"Oh, I don't need to compare." Damien leaned closer, his breath brushing her ear. "Because you're even more dangerous. At least she was honest about her intentions. But you? You pretend to be innocent."

Elena opened her mouth to retort, but Damien's next words sliced through her.

"Play your role well, Mrs. Blackwood. But remember-I can divorce you anytime... and when I do, you'll lose everything."

Elena's breath hitched. Her hands trembled. But she didn't flinch. She met Damien's gaze, eyes sharp.

"Then make sure I have no reason to fight back, Mr. Blackwood. Because if you hurt me... I will retaliate."

For the first time, Damien was speechless. They stared at each other under the glittering lights and the gazes of the guests. The music continued, but a silent war had begun.

After the party, Elena was taken to the Blackwood mansion by a private driver. Damien sat beside her in silence.

The car ride was quiet. Elena stared out the window, trying to calm her racing heart. But her mind was filled with one question: How am I supposed to survive a marriage I never wanted?

When they arrived at the grand mansion, Damien stepped out without a word. Elena followed, her steps shaky as she took in the massive estate-it looked more like a palace.

Inside, they were greeted by an elegant woman with a piercing gaze.

"So this is the replacement," the woman muttered.

"Elena, this is my mother-Victoria Blackwood," Damien said flatly.

Victoria eyed Elena from head to toe like she was inspecting a low-quality auction item. "You're not even as pretty as Clarissa," she said sharply.

Elena held her breath but smiled politely. "Thank you for welcoming me into your home."

"Oh, darling," Victoria replied, "I haven't welcomed you yet. Don't get comfortable. I don't like surprises-especially cheap ones."

Elena knew, from that night on, she wasn't just a substitute wife. She was the enemy in her own husband's home.

As night fell, Elena entered the bedroom that was now technically hers-but felt cold and unfamiliar. Damien stood on the balcony, gazing out over the glittering city.

"Your room is at the end of the hall," he said quietly. "We won't be sleeping together. Don't ever think of yourself as my wife in any real sense."

Elena nodded slowly. "I don't want that either."

Damien glanced at her. There was something in his eyes-anger? Disappointment? Or just exhaustion?

"I don't know what Clarissa told you before she ran," Damien said at last. "But I swear, if this is your plan to get my inheritance, my power, or my name... you'll be destroyed."

Elena looked straight at him. "I don't want anything from you, Damien. I just wanted to save my parents."

Damien scoffed. "You think that sacrifice will impress me?"

"No," Elena replied. "I don't care if you're impressed. I just want you to know... I may be a substitute bride, but I'm not your puppet."

And for a moment, Damien said nothing.

Behind the closed door, Elena finally let herself cry. Not because she was humiliated. Not out of fear. But because she knew, from this moment on, her life had changed.

She had just entered a palace full of thorns, ruled by a king who didn't want her... and a queen who wanted her gone.