His Forbidden Bride

Seraphina's POV

My father didn't ask me if I wanted to marry Lucian Vale. He told me.

"He's agreed," he said, tapping his fingers against a folder on the glass table like it was any ordinary business meeting. "Lucian Vale is willing to marry Seraphina. We have a chance to save everything."

For a moment, I thought I didn't hear clearly what he said. But then the name hit me like a stone dropping into deep water.

Lucian Vale.

The sound of it pulled me under.

"I've spoken to his father," my father continued matter-of-factly. "They'll drop the acquisition and settle the case out of court if we follow through. This marriage ends it cleanly. No lawsuits. No bankruptcy."

My mother sat beside him, legs crossed neatly, posture portraying the picture of elegance. She didn't even look at me. Not for once. Her face was painted in control, her silence complicit.

It wasn't a discussion. It wasn't even a choice. It was a sentence.

And I was the sacrifice.

"You told me we'd find another way," I whispered, my voice catching before I forced it sharper. "You said the lawyers would handle it."

My father glanced at me this time, as if he had just remembered I was with them in the room. His eyes were flat. Businesslike. "We tried. This is the only option that doesn't leave our name smeared across headlines with our accounts frozen."

My hands clenched into fists in my lap. "So I'm the deal now?"

"You're the solution," he said without blinking. "Lucian gets a wife from a reputable family. We keep Cole Global. Everyone wins."

Everyone but me.

I looked between the two people who were supposed to protect me, realizing they weren't negotiating-they were waiting. Waiting for me to obey.

"I'm not a bargaining chip," I said, voice breaking but steady enough. "I'm your only daughter."

"You're also a Cole," my father replied evenly, like that ended the matter.

My throat tightened. "And what about what I want? What about Clinton?"

At his name, my mother's lips pressed together, the faintest crack in her perfect mask. "Clinton is irrelevant."

I blinked. "You liked him. You said he was good for me."

Her voice came cold, deliberate. "He was good for who you used to be. But this is about who you are now. About your future. About survival."

"So love doesn't matter anymore? My life is just...a business merger?"

"You'll grow to understand," my father said, almost bored. "Love is a luxury. People in our position don't always get it."

There it was. The truth. Cold. Final.

I gently rose from the chair where I was sitting like a shadow, my legs were shaking, but it carried me to my room. The door slammed behind me, and I leaned my back to it, shutting out their voices, but not the reality.

Lucian Vale.

The billionaire with mafia bloodlines, whose name alone made businessmen flinch. The man who never smiled, who had built an empire on ruthless precision and vengeance. The man whose empire now had my family by the throat.

And I was supposed to marry him?

I slid down to the floor, covering my face with my hands.

My phone buzzed in my hand.

Clinton: Can we talk? I'm feeling awful about something.

My heart sank not from fear but from worry about how he knew what I was going through at the moment.

My love. He wasn't perfect, but he was mine. He now happens to be the only person who saw me as something more than a surname.

My fingers shook as I reached to reply-until another notification appeared.

Unknown Number: Tell him, and you'll both pay for it. The deal is sealed. Be smart, Seraphina.

Blood drained from my body immediately. Goosebumps covered my skin, like ice was sliding underneath.

I froze while reading the words over and over until they blurred.

Slowly, I pushed myself off the floor and moved to the window like someone who is being controlled by a spell.

Across the street, a black SUV sat waiting. Dark. Still. Quiet. Watching.

The headlights flashed once, then turned off.

I stumbled back from the window.

He is already watching me.

A knock at my door made me jump in shock.

"Seraphina," my mother's voice came, too soft. "Please open up. I want us to talk."

I opened the door enough to see her full posture. Flawless, as always, but her eyes were too calm for the chaos she and Dad had caused. She stepped inside before I could stop her.

"We did this to protect you," she said.

"By forcing me into marriage?"

"By keeping our lives from falling apart, sweetheart. Lucian Vale is not the villain you think he is."

"You don't even know him," I responded in a whisper.

"I know his reputation," she countered immediately. " I also know his father. They are ruthless, yes, but they tend to take care of their own. Once you're part of their family, you'll be protected."

Protected. The word was a bitter joke.

"I don't want to be safe by fear," I snapped, my voice breaking. "I want to be loved."

Her silence was heavier than any answer.

"I love Clinton," I said finally, desperate, raw. "That's all that matters."

My mother's face didn't soften. "Clinton can't help us."

"I don't care."

"You will," she said simply. "One day you'll surely understand."

She left, shutting the door with infuriating calm, as though the matter was settled already.

I stood still, staring at nothing, trying to get a clue whether I had any ownership over my own life left. Was this what being a Cole meant now? Obedience in exchange for survival?

My phone buzzed again.

Clinton: I'm coming over. I need to see you.

My heart leapt-but before I could breathe, another message followed.

Unknown Number: If he shows up, it won't end well. Don't be foolish.

The phone slipped from my hand. My knees went weak.

Helplessness spread through me like poison. I wasn't sad. I wasn't even angry. I was trapped.

I didn't blink all night. Every creak, every moving shadow felt like danger. I stayed by the window until dawn, watching, waiting, until the black SUV finally drove off.

Relief came in a shaky breath. Maybe it was over.

Not until 6:00 a.m.

Another buzz.

Private Sender: You'll be fitted for your engagement dress at 3 p.m. today. Location has been sent to your mother. Don't be late.

I gasped for air.

Then came the second message.

Private Sender: Tell Clinton goodbye. You won't be seeing him again.

Attached was a picture of my room.

Taken from the corner near the ceiling.

I dropped the phone. My heart stopped before I could scream.