Chapter 4 The Wedding Nobody Asked For

Elara had never imagined her wedding day would feel like an obligation instead of a dream.

She stood before the mirror in the bridal suite, surrounded by soft ivory curtains and the muted scent of fresh flowers. The gown draped over her body like something borrowed from another woman's life. It was elegant, expensive, and undeniably beautiful, yet it felt strangely foreign against her skin. The fabric shimmered under the warm lights, fitted perfectly at the waist, flowing effortlessly to the floor, but no amount of perfection could quiet the storm inside her chest.

This was not how it was supposed to be.

There was no excitement fluttering in her stomach, no giddy laughter with friends, no whispered dreams about a future built on love. Instead, there was tension. There was duty. There was the heavy awareness that every step she took today was bound by a contract she had signed with trembling hands.

A stylist adjusted the final details with professional efficiency, complimenting her beauty, praising the way the gown seemed made for her. Elara nodded politely, offering a faint smile that did not reach her eyes. Inside, her thoughts were far away, circling the same truth she had been trying to accept since dawn.

This marriage was not hers.

It belonged to the world. To the cameras waiting outside. To the guests seated in the grand hall below. And most of all, it belonged to Dominic Blackwell.

She closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling slowly. Somewhere beneath the layers of silk and expectation, she was still herself. Still the woman who had once dreamed of choosing love freely, of building a life on her own terms. That woman felt distant now, buried under obligation and necessity.

A soft knock broke her thoughts.

"It is time," the attendant said gently.

Elara opened her eyes and looked at her reflection once more. The woman staring back at her looked composed, graceful, every inch the billionaire's bride the public expected to see. No one could see the fear threaded through her calm expression, or the quiet grief for the life she had set aside.

She squared her shoulders and turned toward the door.

The wedding hall was breathtaking.

White roses lined the aisle in perfect symmetry. Crystal chandeliers glowed overhead, casting warm light across polished marble floors. Guests filled the seats, dressed in luxury and refinement, murmuring softly as anticipation built. Every detail had been curated to project elegance, power, and prestige. This was not merely a wedding. It was a statement.

Elara felt every pair of eyes turn toward her as she stepped into the hall.

The music began, slow and dignified, echoing through the space. She walked forward with measured steps, her posture flawless, her expression serene. Inside, her heart pounded so loudly she was certain it could be heard.

At the altar stood Dominic.

He looked exactly as he always did. Impeccably composed. Tall and commanding in a tailored black suit. His presence seemed to anchor the room, drawing attention without effort. He did not smile when he saw her approach. His expression remained calm, unreadable, his gaze steady and assessing.

She wondered briefly if he felt anything at all.

As she reached his side, Dominic inclined his head slightly, acknowledging her arrival. No whispered words. No reassuring touch. Just a silent recognition of their shared role in this carefully constructed performance.

The officiant began to speak, his voice smooth and practiced, filling the hall with words about unity, partnership, and commitment. Elara listened, detached, as if the ceremony were happening to someone else. The words felt hollow, stripped of the emotion they were meant to convey.

She stole a glance at Dominic from the corner of her eye.

He stood still, hands relaxed at his sides, eyes forward. There was no nervousness, no hesitation. To him, this was a transaction fulfilled, a public obligation executed with precision. The realization stung more than she expected.

When it came time to exchange vows, Dominic spoke first.

His voice was calm and firm, carrying effortlessly through the hall. He recited the prepared words flawlessly, promising protection, partnership, and respect. His tone never wavered, never softened. It was as controlled as everything else about him.

Then it was her turn.

Elara swallowed and lifted her gaze. For a brief moment, the weight of the room pressed down on her. Every eye was on her. Every expectation balanced on her next words.

She spoke clearly, carefully, echoing the vows as they had been written. Her voice held steady, though emotion tightened her chest. She promised commitment she had not chosen, loyalty bound by ink rather than love, and a future defined by necessity.

The rings were exchanged.

Dominic's fingers brushed hers as he slid the ring onto her hand. The touch was brief, impersonal, yet it sent an unexpected shiver through her. She placed the ring on his finger in return, her hands trembling slightly despite her efforts to remain composed.

When the officiant pronounced them husband and wife, polite applause filled the hall. Cameras flashed. Smiles spread across faces that believed they were witnessing a perfect union.

Elara felt oddly hollow.

As they turned to face the guests, Dominic placed his hand lightly at the small of her back. The gesture looked intimate to anyone watching, but she could feel the distance in it. It was measured, controlled, nothing more than what appearances required.

They walked back down the aisle together, side by side, bound by vows that felt heavier than chains.

At the reception that followed, Elara played her role flawlessly. She smiled for photographs, accepted congratulations, and endured endless toasts praising their union. Dominic remained beside her, attentive when necessary, distant when not. His words were polite, his actions precise, never crossing into warmth.

To the world, they were the perfect couple.

To Elara, they were two strangers bound by circumstance, sharing a future neither had asked for in the way love demanded.

As the evening wore on, exhaustion settled into her bones. The elegance, the noise, the constant attention all blurred together. She longed for a moment of quiet, a space to breathe without expectation pressing in from all sides.

When the reception finally drew to a close, Dominic leaned toward her, his voice low and controlled.

"The car is waiting," he said.

She nodded, rising beside him, her smile fixed as cameras captured their departure. As the doors closed behind them and the noise faded, the silence inside the car felt heavier than any crowd.

Elara folded her hands in her lap, staring ahead as the city lights passed by outside the window. The wedding was over. The performance complete.

What remained was the reality of the life she had just entered.

And beside her sat a man who was now her husband in name, her protector by contract, and still an unreadable mystery she was not sure she was ready to unravel.

The car moved smoothly through the city streets, the hum of the engine the only sound between them. Elara sat upright, her hands folded neatly in her lap, the weight of the day pressing down on her shoulders. Outside, the lights of the city shimmered and blurred, reflections dancing across the darkened window like fragments of a life she barely recognized anymore.

Dominic sat beside her, his posture relaxed yet controlled, his attention seemingly focused on nothing in particular. He had loosened his tie slightly, the only sign that the formality of the ceremony had ended. Even in this quiet, private space, he remained composed, distant, and unreadable.

Elara shifted slightly, the layers of her gown rustling softly. She was acutely aware of the silence, of the space between them that felt both deliberate and heavy. This was the first time they were truly alone since the ceremony ended, and she did not know what to expect. The contract had outlined expectations and boundaries, but nothing could prepare her for the emotional weight of sitting beside the man she had just married without love.

"You handled yourself well today," Dominic said at last, his voice low and even.

The words startled her, not because of their content but because of their sincerity. She turned her head slightly to look at him. His gaze remained forward, his expression calm.

"Thank you," she replied quietly. "You did as well."

A faint pause followed, then the car continued on in silence. Elara wondered if that was all he had intended to say, if acknowledgment was the extent of their connection for the night. She found herself oddly relieved and disappointed all at once.

When the car finally pulled into the private driveway of Dominic's residence, Elara felt her breath hitch. The house rose before them, grand and imposing, its lights glowing softly against the night sky. This was no longer just a building she occupied under agreement. It was now, in the eyes of the world, her marital home.

The door opened, and Dominic stepped out first, offering his hand to assist her. The gesture was courteous, practiced, and for a moment, she allowed herself to lean into it. His grip was firm, steady, grounding in a way she had not anticipated.

Inside, the house was quiet.

The staff had clearly been instructed to keep their distance, leaving the space calm and undisturbed. Elara could hear the soft echo of their footsteps as they moved through the hall. The grandeur of the home seemed amplified by the silence, each room reminding her of how far removed this life was from the one she had known.

Dominic stopped near the base of the staircase and turned to face her.

"There are a few things we need to clarify," he said. "Now that the ceremony is over."

Her heart tightened slightly. She nodded. "I am listening."

"This marriage exists for public and legal purposes," he continued. "Appearances matter. There will be events, dinners, and functions where we will be expected to act as a united couple. In private, however, we will maintain the boundaries outlined in the contract."

She met his gaze, steady despite the tension building in her chest. "You mean we live together, but separately."

"Yes," he said simply. "You will have your own room. Your privacy will be respected, as long as mine is as well."

Relief washed through her, though she was careful not to show it too openly. "That is acceptable."

Dominic studied her for a moment, as if gauging her reaction. "I will not pretend this arrangement is traditional. It is not meant to be. It is structured to serve a purpose. Emotional attachment is unnecessary and potentially disruptive."

The words stung more than she expected.

"I understand," Elara said softly. "This was never about feelings."

For a brief second, something shifted in his expression. It was gone almost as quickly as it appeared, but she caught it. A flicker of something unreadable. Regret, perhaps. Or caution.

"You are tired," he said, breaking the moment. "You should rest. Tomorrow will be... different."

She nodded, unsure what different truly meant in this context. "Good night, Dominic."

"Good night, Elara."

He turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the hall until they faded into silence. Elara stood there for a moment, alone, the reality of the night settling into her bones.

She made her way to the bedroom that had been prepared for her. It was spacious, elegant, and immaculately arranged. The bed looked untouched, the soft lighting warm and inviting. Yet despite the comfort surrounding her, she felt an unfamiliar ache in her chest.

She carefully removed the wedding dress, hanging it in the wardrobe like a relic of a life already past. Standing before the mirror once more, she studied her reflection. The makeup had been softened, the elaborate hairstyle loosened, revealing a woman who looked exhausted but resolute.

She touched the ring on her finger.

It felt heavier now, no longer a symbol for the cameras but a reminder of the path she had chosen. A path defined by sacrifice, strength, and uncertainty.

As she lay down, the quiet of the room enveloped her. Her thoughts drifted back to Dominic, to his distant manner, to the way he had made their boundaries clear without cruelty. He was not unkind, she realized. He was controlled. Guarded. Perhaps just as bound by the terms of this marriage as she was.

Sleep came slowly, her mind filled with questions she could not yet answer.

What kind of man was Dominic Blackwell when no one was watching? And what kind of woman would she become as his wife, living within the lines of a marriage nobody had asked for?

Outside, the city continued its restless glow, unaware that behind the walls of a grand home, two strangers had begun a life together bound by obligation, distance, and a future that promised anything but simplicity.