Chapter 2 Wedding Night of Humilation

It was late when Elena stepped into the bridal suite-more like a luxury hotel penthouse than a private bedroom. High ceilings with crystal chandeliers, gold-trimmed walls, and a massive bed dressed in ivory silk sheets. Everything was extravagant... yet cold. Just like the man now walking silently behind her.

Damien shut the door with a loud bang. The thud made Elena flinch.

"You think this is funny?" Damien's voice was icy, nearly frozen.

Elena turned slowly to face her husband-technically. "I don't understand what you mean."

"You think you can just replace Clarissa and live comfortably here? Become Mrs. Blackwood and gain control over my wealth?"

"No," Elena answered calmly. "I never wanted that."

Damien stepped forward, his voice rising. "Do you think I'm stupid, Elena? Your family planned this! Made your sister run, and now you show up pretending to be some selfless saint. But you're all the same-money-hungry women."

Elena stood frozen. The accusation cut deeper than anything else.

"If I had a choice, I would've never stood at the altar with you," she hissed.

Damien laughed bitterly. "Of course not. You'd rather stand at the altar as a rich widow after you've killed me, right?"

He stepped closer, his gaze sharp and slicing. "I know your type. Pretending to be innocent. Claiming sacrifice... while harboring a darker agenda than the devil himself."

Tears welled up in Elena's eyes, but she lifted her chin. "If you really believed I'm that evil, why go through with the wedding?"

Damien stopped inches from her face. "Because the world was watching. Because I won't be ridiculed. And because I know how to destroy an enemy from within."

Elena held her breath. "So, I'm your enemy now?"

"You are a disgrace to the Blackwood name," he whispered venomously.

Elena closed her eyes briefly. She could lash out, scream, curse him-but not tonight. Not on the first night of their marriage, which should've been the start of something beautiful.

When she opened her eyes, her voice trembled, but her tone remained firm. "I didn't choose this, Damien. I never asked to be your wife. But if I have to endure it to save my family, I will. Hate me, humiliate me... but you will not break me."

Damien scoffed. "We'll see how long you last."

He walked to the wardrobe, yanked off his jacket, and tossed his tie to the floor. Elena stood near the vanity, stiff and uncertain. She didn't know whether Damien would stay in the room or kick her out. One thing was certain-this night wouldn't end with tenderness.

He flung open the balcony doors, letting the cold night air shatter the silence.

"Do you really think you can fool everyone? The media, the guests-even me?" he said, lighting a cigarette. Smoke curled into the sky.

Elena moved slowly to the bedside, placing her wedding veil gently on the table. "I didn't fool anyone. I simply took my sister's place-because our family had no other choice."

"You had the choice to say no."

Elena turned sharply. "And let my father lose every contract? Let my mother be humiliated in front of everyone? You know better than anyone, Damien, how cruel this world is. One wrong move can destroy generations."

Damien stared at her, then stepped closer, his pace deliberate. "You always have an answer, don't you?"

"I'm just being honest."

Suddenly, his hand gripped her chin-not hard, but firm enough to make her freeze.

"You speak like you're strong. But I see the fear in your eyes."

Elena didn't flinch. "If you think I'm afraid of you, then you don't know me at all."

Seconds passed. Damien studied her, as if trying to determine whether the woman before him was as resilient as she claimed. Then, he let go and stepped back.

"You can stay in this room tonight. But starting tomorrow, you'll sleep in the east wing. I don't want to see you, touch you, or hear your name."

Elena nodded quietly. "Understood."

She walked to the bathroom and locked the door behind her. Only when the shower started running did her body begin to shake. She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to suppress her sobs. But the tears came anyway, blending with the warm water pouring down her skin.

> "This isn't a marriage," she whispered between sobs. "This is a prison."

---

An hour later, Elena stepped out of the bathroom. Damien was gone. Her chest eased slightly, but the pain still lingered.

She sat at the edge of the bed, pulling out a small notebook from her bag-something she'd tucked away secretly. Opening the first page, she began to write:

> Wedding Day, Night One: I'm not Clarissa. I'm Elena. But today, I felt like a shadow of someone who didn't even want to be me.

> Damien Blackwood hates me. He called me a disgrace. But I will not shatter just because a man like him despises me.

She put the pen down and lay back. Her wedding night held no gentle kisses, no vows of love. Only wounds. And threats.

---

The next morning, a knock woke her.

"Mrs. Blackwood?" came a woman's voice from outside. "Mr. Damien would like to see you in the dining hall."

Elena checked the clock. It was only 6 a.m.

She got up, slipped on a simple long dress, and walked down to the dining room that resembled a royal hall. Damien sat at the far end of the table, dressed in a crisp suit, reading the newspaper.

"Sit," he said flatly, without looking up.

Elena obeyed, keeping her composure. A full breakfast had already been served before her.

Damien folded the paper and looked her straight in the eye.

"I'll be arranging the divorce as soon as possible."

Elena felt the air freeze. "What do you mean?"

"We're only married on paper. No love. No connection. And I have no interest in keeping a fake marriage."

She stared at him in silence. Her heart ached... but also began to harden.

"Alright," she said quietly. "If that's your decision."

Damien narrowed his eyes, as if surprised she didn't beg or cry.

"You're not going to try to stop this?"

Elena gave a faint smile. "Didn't you say from the start that I was just a substitute? Then now, the substitute's role is over."

Damien stood from his chair, took a folder from his assistant, and placed it in front of her.

> "You have three months. After that, you're out of my life."