The dress wasn't white.It was champagne—cold, lifeless, and expensive. Just like the man waiting for her at the altar.
Ariella's fingers trembled as she clutched the bouquet tighter. Her father didn't look at her. He just nudged her forward like she was a package being delivered.
"You know the deal," he muttered under his breath. "Don't screw it up."
The chapel was small, private, and surrounded by men with guns in suits. The man she was marrying didn't look at her until the last second. When he did, her heart stuttered—not from love but from fear.
Dante Romano, Cold eyes, Expensive suit expression carved from stone. He nodded once. That was all the welcome she got.
The vows were spoken The rings were exchanged, No kiss, No smile. Just signatures on a contract that sold her like a product and just like that, Ariella Hart became Mrs Romano.Wife to a man who didn't want her. Property to a family she feared.Dante Romano didn't even spare her a glance before exiting the wedding hall with his men behind him and some before him, putting him in the middle of their protection.
The next day…
The car was too quiet, Ariella sat in the backseat of the sleek black Maybach, her fingers curled tightly around her phone, though she hadn't checked it once. The leather interior smelt like money and masculinity—like him. Dante sat beside her, legs crossed, unreadable as ever in his crisp dark suit.She hadn't said a word since breakfast.Not that there was much to say. She'd become someone's wife overnight, and yet… she still felt like a stranger.
Dante's gaze flicked to her briefly. "You're quiet.""You're not exactly a conversation starter," she replied, not looking at him.He smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching. "You've got a sharp tongue for a girl who signed herself over like property."Her jaw clenched. "I didn't have a choice."
Silence, they both knew she was right. And he hated being reminded of it. The car rolled to a stop in front of her university Students bustled past in groups, laughing, rushing to class, alive and carefree. Ariella hesitated. Stepping out of this car felt like stepping out of another world.A world where she belonged to a man no one could ever know about.Dante turned to her, reaching into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He pulled out a black card—sleek, deadly-looking, probably with no spending limit—and handed it to her. "For what?" she asked.
"Whatever you need, Clothes, Books, Protection." His tone was flat. "Use it."
"I don't want your money."
"You already have my name. You might as well look the part."
Ariella didn't take it. She looked him dead in the eye. "You don't get to buy me off."Dante leaned in slightly, his voice low and sharp like a knife under silk. "I already did."Her breath caught.He opened the car door for her without another word, a signal that the conversation—and argument—was over. She stepped out onto the pavement, the weight of his eyes burning into her back as she blended into the crowd of students.From the outside, she was just another girl in a hoodie and jeans. But inside her pocket was a wedding ring she couldn't wear in public… and the shadow of a husband who was starting to watch her just a little too closely.
"Isn't that Ariella Hart?"
"What the hell is she doing in that car?"
"New sugar daddy, maybe?"
"She probably spread her legs for it."
Ariella kept walking. The comments stabbed like needles, but she was used to it. Mostly. The attention, the rumors, the jealousy… they'd started when her father remarried and brought in a new daughter—a daughter who hated her from day one.
"Nice ride," a voice sneered behind her. "Hope he tips well."
Ariella turned.
Danika.
Her stepsister stood there with her usual posse, arms crossed, an evil grin on her face. Same blonde curls. Same fake smile. Only this time, her voice carried louder than ever.
"Was he old? Or just rich?"
Her friends snickered.
Ariella didn't respond. She just stared at Danika, jaw tight. If only they knew the truth—that she wasn't dating some rich man… she was married to the rich man. But she couldn't say it. Not yet.
Danika leaned closer, dropping her voice just enough. "You might be fooling everyone else, but I know you. You're still the desperate charity case who begged my dad to love her, doesn't matter what you wear or what car drops you off—you'll always be beneath me."
She walked off with a toss of her hair, victorious as always.
Ariella stood there for a second, the morning sun casting a shadow longer than her figure. She wanted to scream. To cry. To run back to the mansion.
But she didn't.
She turned, lifted her chin, and walked to class.
Because no one knew her secret.
No one knew she now carried the last name Romano, and maybe that was her power.
She walked into class, back straight, chin slightly raised, pretending not to hear a thing.
But she heard it all.
The whispers followed her like perfume—sticky, cloying, impossible to escape.
"They say she's married now."
"Seriously? To who?"
"No one knows. But the car, the bag… someone rich, obviously."
"She probably sold herself to some old man."
"She's always been quiet. Creepy, honestly."
Ariella slid into her seat without making eye contact. Her heart beat steady, but her fingers curled tightly around the strap of her bag. She didn't wear the ring—Dante had made that clear. No traces. No attention.
But attention came anyway.
The rumors weren't wrong. She was married.
They just didn't know to whom.
Danika didn't help. She sat three seats ahead, loud enough for Ariella to hear her snide remarks, laughing with her friends like they were on stage.
"Some girls have to work for their grades. Others just… marry for them."
More laughter. More eyes.
Ariella didn't react.
Because no one knew the name she carried now.
No one knew the cold, powerful man she shared a home with.
And if they did?
She doubted they'd keep whispering.