The marriage, this evening, was not an ending—but a start. An impeccable deception, honed to perfection and encased in silk and ivory lace.
To the public, it seemed as though Seo-yeon had given herself, as so many others before her, over to the gilded prison of a man of great power's keeping. A stunning marriage, a romance forged for the tabloids. Seoul's elite had toasted the spectacle—an empire's son and his stunning bride. The city seethed with envy, admiration, and wonder. Photographers had clicked a thousand frames, recording smiles that didn't quite reach the eyes and hands that stayed lingered just a split second longer. It had all been scripted.
For it was indeed: a plan. Detailed. Brutal. Precise.
She was not here to be taken. She was not here to yield. She was here to dominate.
By marrying Joon-woo, she had passed the last boundary. Not into domesticity, but into enemy lines.
