Page 74 of The Alpha's Forbidden Heir

“There,” one says, stepping back to inspect her work. “You look radiant.”

I barely hear her. I stare blankly at the mirror, my reflection unrecognizable. My face is painted with a serene, bridal glow, but my eyes betray me, red-rimmed and hollow.

“Miss Aria,” one maid murmurs, her voice trembling, “please don’t cry again, or we’ll have to start over.”

I swallow hard, forcing the tears to stay at bay. What’s the point? My father has made sure I have no fight left in me. Hehasn’t even allowed me to see Elias since this ordeal began. The thought of my son, alone and possibly frightened, gnaws at me, but I have no power to resist. Not yet.

Moments later, my father enters, his eyes scanning me critically. His expression softens, and he nods approvingly.

“You look beautiful, Aria,” Vittorio says.

I don’t respond, my lips pressed tightly together.

“You’ve done well,” he continues as though my silence doesn’t matter. “I’m proud of you.”

A bitter laugh bubbles in my throat, but I hold it back. Proud? Is he proud of breaking me? Of selling me off to secure his power?

“Let’s go,” he says, offering me his arm.

Numbly, I take it, letting him lead me out of the room and down the grand staircase. The house is eerily quiet, the usual bustle replaced with an oppressive tension. Outside, a sleek black car waits for us.

The drive to the venue is silent. My father seems at ease, his posture relaxed as he stares out the window. I, on the other hand, feel like I’m suffocating. My hands clench into fists on my lap, my nails digging into my palms.

When we arrive, the venue is a picture of perfection. Rows of elegant chairs line the aisle, adorned with white roses and softgolden ribbons. Guests murmur quietly, their faces a mix of curiosity and anticipation.

“Head up, Aria,” my father whispers sharply as we exit the car.

I obey, my movements mechanical as he guides me inside. My heart pounds with every step.

“You’re doing the right thing,” Vittorio says softly as we reach the entrance to the ceremony hall. “For your son. For your family.”

I don’t respond.

The music starts, a gentle melody. My father takes my arm again, leading me down the aisle.

The room blurs around me, the faces of the guests blending together into a sea of judgmental stares. All I can see is Lorenzo, standing at the altar with a smug smile, his dark eyes gleaming with triumph.

When we reach the front, my father places my hand in Lorenzo’s, his grip firm and commanding.

“She’s yours now,” he says, his voice low but audible to both of us.

Lorenzo’s fingers tighten around mine, and I have to fight the urge to pull away.

The officiant begins speaking, his voice a distant hum as I try to steady my breathing. Lorenzo’s vows come first, his tone dripping with false sincerity.

“I vow to protect you, to cherish you, and to provide a life of stability and honor for you and your son,” he says, his words carefully crafted to appeal to the audience.

I want to scream, to shout that he’s a liar, that this is all a farce. But I stand there, silent and unmoving, as the officiant turns to me.

“And now, Aria, your vows.”

I open my mouth, but no sound comes out. My heart races, panic surging through me.

Suddenly, the heavy doors at the back of the hall burst open with a resounding crash. Gasps fill the room as heads turn to see who has dared interrupt the ceremony.

My breath catches in my throat as I see him.

Bane.

---