Betrayed Bride: Claimed By The Ruthless Boss

Alyssa lifted the heavy layers of her silk wedding gown, her heels sinking into the thick carpet of the hotel corridor. Her chest tightened with every step. Preston had been missing for twenty minutes, and the ceremony was about to start.

She pushed open the heavy fire door leading to the VIP parking garage. The air instantly turned cold and smelled of exhaust.

A muffled, rhythmic sound echoed off the concrete walls.

Alyssa froze. Her stomach dropped. She followed the sound, her pulse hammering in her throat.

She approached the familiar black Maybach parked in the corner. The tinted window was rolled down an inch, letting the stale garage air in.

And letting the sounds out.

"Preston... wait, someone might hear."

It was Khloe. Her stepsister's voice was breathless, sticky sweet.

Alyssa stopped breathing. She stepped closer, her eyes locking onto the narrow gap in the window.

Preston was pinned over Khloe in the backseat. His hands were tangled in her bridesmaid dress.

Alyssa bit down on her lower lip so hard she tasted copper. The sharp pain was the only thing keeping the scream trapped in her lungs.

"Let them hear," Preston panted. "Today is just a show. I just need to keep Alyssa calm until the papers are signed."

Khloe let out a soft laugh, her manicured fingers digging into Preston's shoulders. "When do I get her mother's copy of The Antiquary's Codex? You promised."

"As soon as the property rights transfer," Preston said, his voice cold and flat. "Then we'll have her committed. A psychiatric ward is exactly where a hysterical woman belongs."

The blood drained from Alyssa's face. The betrayal didn't just break her heart-it turned her veins to ice. They weren't just cheating. They were hunting her mother's legacy.

Her hands shook as she opened her clutch. She pulled out her phone, her thumb slipping twice before she opened the camera.

She held the lens right up to the gap in the window. The red recording dot blinked.

She captured their tangled bodies. She captured every vile word about the asylum and the Codex.

Alyssa hit save. She didn't make a single sound. She turned on her heel and walked back toward the elevators, her spine rigid.

Back in the bridal suite, she stared at her pale reflection in the vanity mirror. She grabbed a concealer stick and dabbed it over the redness at the corners of her eyes.

A knock sounded at the door. "Alyssa? It's time."

She took a deep breath, forcing oxygen into her tight lungs. She opened the door, a flawless, plastic smile plastered on her face.

The grand doors of the ballroom swung open. Blinding spotlights hit her. Hundreds of guests stood, their eyes on her.

At the end of the rose-petal-covered aisle stood Preston. He wore a tailored tuxedo and a look of absolute, sickening devotion.

Khloe stood to the side in her chief bridesmaid dress. She caught Preston's eye and gave him a subtle, triumphant wink.

Alyssa stepped forward. Her heels clicked against the marble floor with heavy, rhythmic precision.

She reached the altar. The priest smiled and opened his book, his voice booming over the microphone.

"Do you, Alyssa Barrera, take this man..."

The room was dead silent.

Alyssa let out a sharp, mocking laugh. It echoed through the massive hall.

She reached into the center of her bridal bouquet and pulled out her smartphone. She had easily slipped into the hotel's unsecured media network the night before, noticing the AV team had left the default passwords active. With a single tap, she bypassed their system and pressed launch.

The massive LED screen behind the altar flickered and went black.

Then, the garage video played. In high definition.

The moans and Preston's cruel words about the psychiatric ward blasted through the state-of-the-art sound system.

A collective gasp ripped through the crowd. Whispers erupted into shouts.

Preston's mask of devotion shattered. His face turned the color of ash as he stared at the screen.

Khloe screamed. She threw her hands over her face, using her bouquet as a shield against the burning stares of the elite crowd.

At the head table, Alyssa's stepmother, Brenda, shot up from her chair. Her face was purple with rage. "Cut the power! Security, cut the screen!" she shrieked.

Alyssa reached up and ripped the white veil from her hair. She threw it directly into Preston's face.

She grabbed the priest's microphone. "The wedding is canceled."

Flashbulbs exploded from the press section. Amidst the chaos, Alyssa grabbed the heavy skirt of her dress, turned her back on the altar, and walked straight toward the exit.

Alyssa barely made it two steps down the aisle before Preston lunged.

He moved like a wild animal, his face twisted in panic and fury. He blocked her path, his hand shooting out to grab the phone she still held.

"Give me that!" he snarled, the veins in his neck bulging.

Alyssa sidestepped him. She grabbed a crystal flute of champagne from a stunned waiter's tray and threw the liquid directly into Preston's eyes.

Preston cursed, stumbling backward and clawing at his burning eyes. The guests in the front row openly laughed at his pathetic state.

Khloe rushed forward. She had dropped her hands, her face now twisted into a mask of desperate innocence. Tears spilled down her cheeks.

She held a glass of water, her hands trembling. "Alyssa, please, it's a misunderstanding! You're hysterical. Drink this, please calm down."

Khloe stepped directly in front of Alyssa, using her body to block the guests' view. Alyssa stared at her stepsister's fake tears. Her stomach churned with disgust. She raised her hand and slapped the glass away. The crystal shattered against the marble floor.

But Khloe didn't back down. She pulled a delicate lace handkerchief from her bridesmaid dress, stepping even closer. "You're sweating, you're not well," Khloe cooed, pressing the cloth suddenly and forcefully against Alyssa's nose and mouth.

A sharp, chemical sweetness invaded Alyssa's airways before she could jerk her head away.

In that exact second, two massive men in black suits flanked her.

Brenda stood behind them, her eyes cold. She gave them a sharp nod.

The bodyguards grabbed Alyssa's arms, their grips like iron vices.

"Let go of me!" Alyssa screamed, thrashing against them.

Brenda grabbed the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, please excuse us. The bride is suffering a severe pre-wedding breakdown. We are taking her to get medical help."

The guests murmured, exchanging uncomfortable glances, but no one stepped forward. It was a family matter.

Alyssa lifted her heel to stomp on the bodyguard's foot, but the room suddenly tilted.

A violent wave of dizziness crashed into her. Her vision doubled. The strength drained from her legs.

The drug on the handkerchief. It was terrifyingly fast.

The bodyguards tightened their hold, practically carrying her dead weight out of the ballroom doors.

They dragged her down a quiet hallway and threw her into a dimly lit, soundproof holding room.

Alyssa hit the carpet hard. Her shoulder throbbed, but her muscles refused to obey her brain. She couldn't push herself up.

The door clicked shut. Preston, Khloe, and Brenda stood over her. The masks were completely gone.

Preston wiped the sticky champagne from his face. He stepped forward and kicked Alyssa hard in the ribs. "You ruined me, you crazy bitch."

Alyssa groaned, curling into a ball as pain flared through her side.

Khloe crouched down. She dragged her sharp acrylic nail down Alyssa's cheek. "You always thought you were so smart."

"Enough," Brenda snapped. "Since she won't sign the papers, we have to liquidate her another way."

Alyssa fought to keep her eyes open. The room was spinning.

Brenda pulled out her phone and dialed a number. "Yes. The Strickland family. We accept the offer to clear the debt. Ten million. Send the transport."

Alyssa's eyes widened in pure horror.

Strickland.

Everyone in the city knew that name. It was a monster's den.

Brenda hung up and looked down at Alyssa with a cold smile. "You belong to the madman of the East Wing now. Have a nice honeymoon."

Preston's eyes gleamed with greed. He didn't look at Alyssa with an ounce of pity.

The drug pulled Alyssa under. Her breathing grew shallow. Her eyelids fluttered shut.

Just before the darkness took her completely, she bit the tip of her tongue, letting the sharp pain brand the hatred into her brain.

The door opened again. The bodyguards walked in carrying a massive, heavy-duty black canvas duffel bag.

They shoved Alyssa's limp body inside.

The harsh sound of the zipper closing echoed in the quiet room, plunging Alyssa into total darkness.

The bodyguard threw the bag over his shoulder and carried her out through the hotel's freight elevator.

Alyssa lost consciousness entirely, the vibrations of the elevator pulling her down into the abyss.

A violent jolt sent a shockwave through Alyssa's spine.

She gasped, her eyes flying open into pitch blackness. The canvas bag smelled of dust and industrial fabric. She was lying on the cold, vibrating metal floor of a moving van.

Her limbs felt like lead. The drug still coated her brain in a thick fog.

The van slammed on its brakes. Alyssa slid across the metal floor, her head cracking hard against the side panel. A sharp ringing pierced her ears.

Outside, heavy iron gates groaned open. The aggressive barking of guard dogs echoed through the night air.

The back doors of the van were ripped open. Cold night wind rushed in.

Rough hands grabbed the canvas bag and unzipped it. Two men dragged her out by her arms.

Blinding security lights hit her face. Alyssa squinted, her vision blurry. Looming ahead was a massive, terrifying gothic estate. Its sharp spires cut into the black sky.

A stern man in a black suit-the butler-stood on the gravel. He was tall and gaunt, with a hard, angular face and eyes that held no warmth. He looked down at her ruined wedding dress with absolute disgust.

He flicked his wrist.

Two thick-built maids stepped forward. They grabbed Alyssa under her armpits and dragged her toward the house.

Alyssa's feet dragged over the gravel, then over polished hardwood. They pulled her down a long, freezing corridor. The antique wall sconces flickered with yellow light. The air smelled of old wood and strong chemical preservatives.

They stopped in front of a heavy oak door wrapped in a thick iron chain.

The butler pulled a rusted brass key from his pocket. The sound of the key turning in the lock was deafening in the silent hallway.

The door groaned open. A blast of freezing air hit Alyssa's face.

The maids shoved her hard. Alyssa tripped over her heavy skirt and fell onto the dusty carpet inside.

The door slammed shut behind her. The heavy lock clicked into place.

Alyssa pushed herself up onto her elbows, her chest heaving. Pale moonlight bled through the windows. The windows were bolted shut with thick iron bars, the glass panes intact.

The room was massive and decaying. The furniture was covered in white sheets.

As her mind raced, a chilling memory surfaced. While she was being dragged down the freezing corridor, her head lolling against her chest, she had faintly heard the two maids whispering, completely convinced she was unconscious.

"Another one for the Beast of the East Wing," one maid had muttered. "Master Kenny is going to tear her apart."

"The last bride they threw in there lasted three days," the other had replied, her voice trembling. "They carried her out covered in blood. Ever since the fire ruined his face, he just likes to hear them scream."

Alyssa's heart slammed against her ribs as the memory echoed in her mind. The words wrapped around her throat.

She forced herself to stand. Her legs shook violently. She rushed to the window and grabbed the iron bars, pulling with all her remaining strength. They didn't budge.

She ran to the door and pounded her fists against the thick wood. "Let me out! Help!"

Silence.

Panic clawed at her chest. She backed away from the door, retreating into the darkest corner of the room next to a massive wardrobe. She grabbed a heavy brass candlestick from a side table, gripping it with white knuckles.

Then, a sound came from the opposite wall.

A slow, agonizing scratching. Like nails dragging across hardwood.

Alyssa stopped breathing. She pressed her back against the wall.

A hidden door in the paneling slowly pushed open. The hinges shrieked.

A heavy, suffocating scent flooded the room. Cuban cigars mixed with the sharp, sterile sting of medical alcohol.

A massive shadow stepped through the hidden door. The man was huge, his shoulders blocking out the faint light from the passage behind him.

He let out a low, ragged breath. It sounded like an animal in agonizing pain.

Alyssa's hands shook so hard the candlestick rattled. The madman. Kenny.

The shadow slowly turned his head. Even in the darkness, she could feel his eyes lock onto her corner.

He had found his prey.