Bianca paced back and forth in the quiet of her bridal suite, her heart pounding in her chest. Every inch of the room seemed to suffocate her—the pristine white walls, the towering bouquet of lilies, the floor-to-ceiling mirrors reflecting the desperate panic in her eyes. The wedding was only the next day, but all she could think about was running.
"Oh my God, I can't do this anymore, Naomi," Bianca's voice was trembling, a soft whisper as she glanced nervously around the room. She was on the edge of a breakdown, her hands wringing in her lap as she leaned forward. "I have to get out of here. I can't go through with it."
Naomi forced herself not to smile too wide. Oh, she'd been waiting for this. Bianca's desperation, her breaking point. It was perfect. The way Bianca clung to her, trusting her to help her escape from the gilded cage that was Kayden's world—it made Naomi feel powerful. Desired. Needed.
"Bianca, I understand. You don't want to be with him. I know," Naomi said, her voice low and coaxing, laced with the false sympathy she had perfected. Inside, she was smirking. Naomi knew exactly why Bianca was desperate—she wasn't ready to marry someone she didn't love, someone who was just a means to an end.
"Naomi, you have to help me," Bianca's voice cracked as she glanced at her, pleading. Naomi could almost taste the desperation in her words. It was like a drug, sweet and addicting.
"I'll help you," Naomi said, the words falling effortlessly from her lips. Of course, she would help Bianca. But not in the way Bianca thought.
Naomi's heels clicked softly against the polished marble floor as she slipped out of Bianca's room, phone already pressed to her ear. She cast a glance over her shoulder, making sure the coast was clear, before ducking into the hallway alcove near the stairs.
"Yeah. Today. 7 PM sharp," she whispered into the phone. "Black SUV. Plate covered. East gate of the estate. Don't be late."
She ended the call quickly, a small, satisfied smile curving her lips.
Naomi walked back into the room, lowering her voice as if the walls had ears. "I have a perfect plan," she whispered, eyes gleaming. "At exactly 7 PM, there will be a "Black SUV" waiting at the east gate of the estate. It's an old service exit, barely used, so no one will be watching. The driver is someone I trust."
Bianca exhaled sharply, relief softening her tense features. "And my things? I can't take much, but I need—"
"I've got it covered." Naomi waved a hand dismissively. "A small bag. Just essentials. I'll pack it myself and slip it into the car before you even get there." She tilted her head, playing the role of the loyal best friend. "Are you sure about this? Once you leave, there's no coming back."
Bianca hesitated, chewing her bottom lip. "I am."
"Alright," she murmured, squeezing Bianca's hand. "When the clock strikes seven, you walk out that door and don't look back."
Kayden Russo leaned against the doorframe of the adjoining room, watching with a dark glint in his eyes as Naomi and Bianca talked, unaware of his presence. He'd heard enough. He had made sure to slip into the room undetected, his instincts screaming that something was off. And when he overheard them—Bianca's soft pleas and Naomi's too-sweet assurances—he had known.
Kayden's jaw clenched. An escape plan. He had suspected something was wrong with the way Bianca had been acting, but now he had confirmation. His gaze hardened as he listened to the final details of their conversation.
Kayden's eyes narrowed. He pushed away from the wall, silently stepping back into the shadows, his mind already working. This wasn't just a plan to get Bianca out. This was something more—something Naomi had been planning all along. And she had no idea that he had been listening.
Bianca's phone buzzed in her hand. A message from Naomi.
"I'm in position. Are you ready?"
Bianca's breath caught. She quickly typed back, fingers tapping with urgency. "Almost".
Her pulse raced as she looked around the room one last time. There was no going back after this. No more pretending, no more pretending she wanted this life.
But just as she was about to make her escape, the door creaked open.
"Bianca," Kayden's voice echoed from the threshold, pulling her from her thoughts. She froze.
He stood there, dressed in casual joggers and a tan top, every inch the image of a man who owned the world. His sharp eyes narrowed as they scanned her, and for a moment, she thought she saw something like concern flicker across his face. But that quickly shifted to something else—something darker.
"Where do you think you're going?" he asked, stepping into the room. His tone was smooth, controlled, but the edge of possessiveness in his voice was unmistakable.
Bianca's breath hitched. Her mind raced. She had no choice but to lie, but there was no point in pretending anymore. He had caught her.
"I'm just—" she started, but before she could finish, she saw him glance down at her phone, now resting in her hand, the message from Naomi still on the screen. He must have seen it.
Without a word, Kayden moved to the side, pressing a button on the wall. The door to the suite slammed shut behind him, and there was a moment of silence. Then, from somewhere down the hallway, she heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps.
Heavy. Measured.
Kayden's security team.
"We'll make sure you don't get cold feet, Bianca," Kayden said, his voice low and calm, almost eerily so. "I've arranged for extra... protection. We wouldn't want you running off now, would we?"
Bianca stood frozen, the escape plan unraveling before her eyes. Naomi's face, full of concern, flashed in her mind, but it felt like a distant memory now. Everything had collapsed in on her.
There would be no escape.
Naomi's POV
The silk of Bianca's wedding dress slid smoothly under Naomi's fingers as she adjusted the delicate veil over her friend's coiled bun. She smiled—softly, sweetly—but it didn't reach her eyes.
So perfect. So loved. So oblivious.
Bianca sat on the stool like a porcelain doll, stiff and delicate, her fingers nervously twisting in her lap. The candlelight from the vanity cast a soft glow on her rich brown skin, making her look every bit the stunning bride she was meant to be. A vision. A woman about to marry into wealth and power, handpicked to be the wife of one of the most sought-after billionaires.
And yet, she wanted to run.
Naomi pressed her lips together to stifle the smirk that threatened to break free. She hadn't forgotten last night—the whispered plan, the shaky excitement in Bianca's voice as she laid out her grand escape. She could still hear it.
"Thank you," Bianca murmured suddenly, dragging Naomi back to the present. "Even after everything… even though the plan didn't work… you still stood by me. I know I can always count on you."
Naomi swallowed a scoff, forcing a tender smile instead. She reached out, giving Bianca's hands a comforting squeeze.
"Of course," she murmured. "Always."
But inside?
Inside, she wasn't disappointed the plan had failed. She wasn't even remotely bothered.
Because Naomi had done something far better.
7C. Row two. Name registered as Marcus King.
She had made sure of it. While Bianca had been holding onto foolish hope, Naomi had been working on something far more entertaining. Using a contact from her cousin's event company, she had slipped Liam's name onto the guest list under a perfectly forgettable alias. No red flags. No questions asked.
So while Bianca was busy panicking over being trapped in a loveless, high-profile marriage, she had no idea she was about to walk straight into something far worse.
Liam was here.
Watching. Waiting.
And when Bianca stepped into that grand hall, glowing like a dream in that extravagant dress, he would be right there—front row—waiting to remind her of the past she so desperately wanted to leave behind.
Naomi could already picture it—the moment Bianca's eyes met Liam's across the room. The shock. The fear. The unraveling of everything she had tried to bury.
She tightened the veil over Bianca's bun, maybe a little too hard before easing it back.
Bianca thought she had lost. That she had no way out.
But Naomi knew the truth.
This wasn't over.
Not yet.
And when the chaos finally erupted?
Naomi would be right there, watching as the fairytale cracked.
The grand ballroom of the Astoria Hotel was nothing short of breathtaking. Golden chandeliers cast a warm glow across the towering floral arrangements, the scent of fresh roses and jasmine filling the air. The soft hum of a string quartet set an elegant yet somber mood, a stark contrast to the weight pressing down on Bianca's chest.
Dressed in an intricate white gown that sparkled under the lights, Bianca felt anything but a blushing bride. The corset was tight, constricting not just her breath but her will. Each step she took toward the altar felt heavier than the last, her fingers clenching the delicate lace of her dress as if it could tether her to some semblance of control.
All eyes were on her.
Her father sat at the front, pride gleaming in his eyes as he nodded in approval. Guests whispered amongst themselves, some marveling at the extravagance of it all, others reveling in the gossip surrounding her sudden engagement to one of the most powerful men in the city. But none of their words reached her; all she could hear was the deafening roar of her own thoughts.
Kayden stood tall at the altar, his expression unreadable. He was every bit the billionaire groom—immaculate in his tailored suit, exuding confidence and power. But Bianca knew better. That wasn't just confidence in his stance; it was control. He had won. She hadn't been able to escape, and now, she was about to become his wife.
Her gaze flickered to the crowd, scanning for Naomi. And then she saw her, standing at the far side of the room, a knowing smirk hidden beneath a mask of faux sympathy. Bianca had thanked her earlier, and had believed—naively—that Naomi had truly wanted to help. But now, she wasn't so sure. Naomi's eyes gleamed with something else. Satisfaction.
And then her stomach dropped.
A figure, seated inconspicuously in the second row.
Liam.
He was here.
Her breath caught in her throat. It wasn't a dream. It wasn't a mistake. Naomi had done this.
The officiant began speaking, but Bianca couldn't focus on the words. Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for the bouquet in her hands, gripping it so tightly her knuckles turned white.
Kayden, ever observant, noticed. His sharp blue eyes flicked between her face and the direction of her distracted stare. Slowly, he followed her gaze to the mysterious guest in the crowd.
Liam tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into the barest hint of a smirk. A silent message.
I'm here.
Kayden's jaw tightened.
A flicker of something dark passed through his gaze before he straightened, his grip subtly tightening on Bianca's hand as the officiant's voice echoed through the ballroom.
"And do you, Bianca Beneet, take Kayden Russo to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
The question echoed in her ears.
The room blurred slightly, the faces of the guests melting into an indistinct mass of expectation. Cameras flashed. Naomi's gaze drilled into her from the far side of the room. Her father sat perfectly composed, his hands folded neatly in his lap, but his eyes—his eyes were waiting.
Bianca's throat felt dry.
She parted her lips to speak, to force the words out, but nothing came.
Say it. Just say it.
Kayden shifted beside her, a flicker of impatience crossing his features.
The priest waited.
So did the crowd.
So did the world.
A hush spread through the hall, growing heavier with each second she didn't answer.
Bianca's chest rose and fell.
One second. Two. Five.
The silence stretched unbearably.
Kayden turned his head slightly, his sharp blue eyes pinning her in place.
"Bianca," he murmured, low enough for only her to hear. A warning. A demand.
But Bianca didn't respond.
She just… stood there. Frozen.
Trapped.
The tension in the room thickened, winding tighter, suffocating.
And still—she said nothing.