The church aisle felt much longer than when Hannah had first walked down it.

Now, Hannah was walking beside Lucas. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. She could feel the stares clinging to her skin, her shoulders, and the white dress that suddenly felt like a costume.

*‘Don't look down. Don't cry.’* Hannah repeated the words over and over in her head.

They stopped in front of the pastor. The old man looked at Lucas, then at Hannah, and back to Lucas again. His brow furrowed.

"Are you sure?" the pastor asked softly.

"Yes," Lucas replied, his expression showing not a shadow of doubt.

Hannah did not answer. Her throat suddenly tightened, and her tongue grew completely numb.

The pastor cleared his throat, opened the book, and began to speak. The words flowed, but Hannah didn't catch a single one. All she could hear was her own heartbeat—loud and fast, like someone was pounding against her chest from the inside.

*This was supposed to be Ethan.*

The thought surfaced uninvited. It was supposed to be Ethan standing here, with his nervous smile and his perpetually crooked tie. Ethan, who had said he would weep with emotion the moment Hannah appeared at the end of the aisle.

But in reality?

A sharp pang went through Hannah's chest.

She shifted her gaze and stared at the floor. The black leather shoes beside her were polished to perfection. The shoes whose care she ordered every single month. The shoes she had only ever seen from behind a desk for five years.

Now those shoes were right beside her.

"Hannah Brooks."

Her name sounded as if it were coming from far away.

"Hannah," the pastor repeated, gentler this time.

Hannah raised her head. Everyone was waiting for her.

"Do you take this man to be your wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health..."

*In sickness.*

The word pierced her. Hannah thought of her mother, and her hand clenched behind her bouquet of flowers.

"I do," Hannah said, her voice trembling slightly. She hated this forced reality.

The pastor turned to Lucas. The same question was asked.

Lucas didn't hesitate for even a fraction of a second. "I do."

Too fast. Too easy.

Hannah glanced at Lucas's face out of the corner of her eye. His jaw was sharp, his expression neutral. There was no smile. Yet there was something at the edge of his eyes that Hannah couldn't quite read—like a man holding his breath.

*‘What are you hiding?’* She didn't voice the question. It remained locked in her head.

"You may now exchange rings."

Hannah startled. She had forgotten. Her wedding ring was in the pocket of Ethan's suit jacket.

Her hands turned instantly cold.

Lucas reached into his suit jacket pocket.

Hannah assumed he was going to ask someone to fetch replacement rings for them. But Lucas pulled out a small velvet box, flipped it open with one hand, and revealed a pair of plain bands inside.

Hannah stared at the items without blinking.

"Where..." Hannah's voice was low. "Where did those come from?" she asked, barely audible.

"I always keep one on me," Lucas said flatly. "A gift for women who need a little solace."

Hannah looked at him with sheer disgust.

The corner of Lucas's lips twitched slightly. "Just a joke."

"Not funny," Hannah muttered.

"I know." Lucas was far too casual for an event as momentous as a wedding.

Lucas took Hannah's left hand. His fingers were warm—far too warm compared to Hannah's freezing hands.

The ring slid onto her finger. A perfect fit. Almost too perfect.

Hannah looked at the ring on her finger, then at Lucas's hand still holding hers. She pulled her hand back gently from his grip.

Hannah picked up the other ring and slid it onto Lucas's finger. Her hands were shaking so much that the ring nearly dropped.

"Slow down," Lucas whispered.

"Don't say too much, sir." Hannah was nervous, wanting to snap at him, but the man in front of her was the boss keeping her and her mother alive.

"I was just saying." One corner of Lucas's mouth curled up slowly, enjoying the nervousness Hannah was experiencing.

"Don't say anything." Hannah's voice was faint.

Lucas remained silent.

The ring was finally on. Hannah immediately released his hand.

"By the power vested in me," the pastor said, "I now pronounce you husband and wife."

The applause sounded awkward. One or two people clapped, then stopped. There were no cheers. No smiles. Only the whispers rising back up.

"You may now kiss the bride."

Hannah froze.

She had completely forgotten about that part.

"No," Hannah blurted spontaneously, her voice barely a whisper. Her face drained of color; her makeup failed to hide her panic.

Lucas turned to look at Hannah. His eyes met her panicked gaze for just a fleeting moment. "Just on the forehead."

Hannah's eyes widened. "Mr. Lucas..." Her voice was faint, almost inaudible.

"I won't force you," Lucas replied with utmost composure, speaking so softly that it seemed only his lips moved.

Hannah looked at him. At such a close distance, she caught a glimpse of something she had never seen at the office—Lucas was waiting for her consent. He wasn't commanding, nor was he taking control.

Hannah gave a small nod. Despite her inner reluctance, she had no alternative.

Lucas leaned in. His lips touched Hannah's forehead, brief and warm.

Hannah closed her eyes, and suddenly, her tears spilled over.

She didn't know why. Perhaps the touch was too tender. Perhaps it was a gesture she hadn't envisioned. Or perhaps it was because today was supposed to be the happiest day of her life, only for everything to end up in ruins.

Hannah bit her lip, holding back a sob.

Lucas pulled back. He saw the tears but made no comment. Reaching into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, he made a slight motion as if to wipe them away, but paused mid-air. Instead, he simply placed a handkerchief into Hannah's hand.

"Use this," Lucas said quietly.

Hannah gripped the fabric. It carried the same scent as Lucas's jacket—a clean aroma of wood and soap.

Hannah longed to break free from Lucas, having every reason to do so, but her financial circumstances held her bound. And now, she was trapped in a marriage with this very man.

**

An hour later.

Hannah stood alone in the hospital corridor.

Her wedding gown had been replaced with a blouse and trousers. The band on her ring finger felt heavy, prompting her to hide her hands inside her pockets.

"Miss Brooks?" Nurse Claire greeted her outside the room. "She has been waiting for you."

Hannah took a deep breath, attempting to regain her composure before seeing her mother.

"How is my mother's condition right now?" Hannah asked, her eyes full of hope.

"She is calmer now, though she keeps asking about you," Nurse Claire replied warmly.

"I see, Nurse. Thank you." Hannah nodded gently.

Standing outside her mother's room, Hannah inhaled deeply once more, knocked on the door, and stepped inside.

Upon entering, Hannah's eyes landed on Eleanor, who was resting against the headboard. Her greying hair was neatly combed. Though her face was pale, her eyes lit up the moment she saw Hannah enter.

"Hannah!" Eleanor reached out her hand. "My daughter."

The corners of Hannah's lips curved upward, doing her best to project happiness and serenity. She walked over and clasped Eleanor's hand—cold and slender. Hannah held her breath for a brief moment.

Eleanor's eyes sparkled, her smile widening. "How was the ceremony? Tell me everything. I've been waiting since this morning."

Hannah forced a smile. "It went smoothly, Mom."

"Smoothly?" Eleanor let out a soft chuckle. "Weren't you nervous? I nearly fainted at the altar back in my day."

Observing her mother speaking with such enthusiasm, Hannah forced her smile to stay in place. "A little."

Eleanor's smile was deeply affectionate. "And Ethan? Did he cry tears of joy?"

Hannah froze, realizing she hadn't prepared a single answer for that question.

Eleanor observed her daughter's sudden silence. "Hannah?"

"Ethan..." She swallowed hard, her tongue growing stiff. "He couldn't come here. He still... has some matters to handle with his family." Hannah quickly concocted an excuse to prevent further questions.

"On your wedding day?" Eleanor's brows furrowed.

Hannah gave a subtle nod, a hint of sorrow showing on her face. "You know how his family is, Mom. It's complicated."

"I understand," Eleanor said with a gentle nod, though disappointment lingered on her face before she smiled again. "It's alright. What matters is that the two of you are officially married. I can rest easy knowing there's someone taking care of you now."

Those words pierced right through Hannah. A heavy wave of guilt washed over her for having to deceive her mother, yet she had no other choice.

Eleanor exhaled a long breath and said, "Let me see your ring."

Hannah's heart seemed to stop beat. "What?"

Eleanor smiled softly, assuming Hannah was merely overwhelmed by post-wedding jitters. "The ring, darling. I haven't seen it yet."

Hannah slowly withdrew her hand from her pocket. The plain band shimmered under the room's fluorescent lights. It was not the ring she had chosen alongside Ethan.

Eleanor stared at it for a long moment. "It's very simple."

"Yes," Hannah's voice was barely a whisper.

"But it's lovely," Eleanor took Hannah's hand and stroked her finger gently. "Lovely, just like you."

Hannah felt a painful tightness in her chest, seeing the immense joy her mother derived from believing she was married—unaware of who the groom truly was.

Hannah desperately wanted to confess. She wanted to weep on her mother's lap and admit that everything had collapsed. She wanted to reveal that the man she had married today was not the one her mother assumed.

Yet beneath her mother's hospital gown, the heart monitor maintained a steady rhythm—a faint sound, but powerful enough to keep her from revealing the truth.

"I am so happy," Eleanor whispered, her eyes glistening with tears. "Now I can truly be at peace."

"You need to rest, Mom." Hannah wished to avoid further conversation.

Eleanor's gaze remained fixed on Hannah's face. "Just a little longer. Let me look at you first."

Hannah sat at the edge of the bed. She permitted her mother to gaze at her, letting those aging fingers stroke her cheek, brushing away a tear that had fallen unnoticed.

"Why are you crying?" Eleanor asked tenderly, a flash of concern appearing on her face.

Hannah pressed her lips together briefly. "Because I'm happy, Mom."

The lie tasted bitter on her tongue.

Eleanor smiled and closed her eyes. "Me too."

Before long, her breathing slowed, and Eleanor's grip loosened.

Panic surged through Hannah at her mother's sudden closure of her eyes.

"Mom, are you tired?" Hannah's voice was little more than a whisper.

Eleanor gave a faint nod. "I feel at peace now, and I want to rest for a bit." She drifted off to sleep, a lingering smile remaining on her lips.

Hannah remained seated there, motionless, simply gazing at her mother's face, which finally appeared tranquil.

Seeing how stable her mother's condition was, Hannah knew she had to keep her marriage to Lucas a complete secret. She could not risk causing her mother's health to deteriorate again.

Hannah sat in silence until she caught the faint sound of the door creaking open.

She turned to find Lucas standing at the threshold, still dressed in his black suit. One hand rested inside his trousers pocket, his gaze fixed on the sleeping Eleanor.

Why was Lucas here?

At that moment, Lucas shifted his gaze toward Hannah. Their eyes met in absolute silence.

The car sped out of the city.

Hannah realized it after fifteen minutes. The tall skyscrapers gave way to trees, and the houses on both sides grew larger, spaced further and further apart.

"Are we going to your house?" Hannah turned to Lucas, who was driving.

"My family's estate," Lucas said flatly, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "My father is waiting."

Hannah fell silent, shifting her gaze out the window.

Hannah stared into the dark road. For five years, she had managed this man's schedule, yet during all that time, she had only ever dispatched documents to the front gates of that estate.

Lucas preferred sleeping in hotels, in the apartments of whoever knew who—wherever there was a woman waiting. His own home was merely a temporary pitstop.

"Today?" Hannah sought confirmation. Initially, she had assumed Lucas would take her to his apartment or ask her to return to her own place.

"Father requested proof before nightfall." Lucas's voice was flat and composure-drawn.

Hannah's brow furrowed deeply. "Proof of what?"

"That I am married."

Hannah turned to him slowly. So, was this the reason Lucas had stepped in as a replacement groom? Did he need a married status as well?

Hannah had never expected Lucas to be caught in a situation like this.

"What do I need to do?" Hannah asked eventually, refraining from asking for an explanation regarding his words.

"Stand beside me. Do not let go of my hand." Lucas's voice remained flat and cold.

"That's it?"

"That is already difficult enough." Lucas's eyes flicked briefly toward the ring on Hannah's finger. "They will say cruel things. Do not listen to them."

Hannah turned her gaze back to the window. She had envisioned going on a honeymoon after her wedding with Ethan. Her leave request had already been approved. Yet now, she had no choice but to head to Lucas's family.

A sharp ache tightened her chest. She gripped the strap of her bag until her knuckles turned white.

A short while later, they arrived at the Ashford residence.

The iron gates parted slowly. The grand mansion sat at the far end of the driveway—three stories high, with golden light emanating from every window and soaring white pillars. It was breathtaking, yet inherently cold.

Their car pulled up at the drop-off area. Hannah stepped out simultaneously with Lucas.

"Hold my hand."

Hannah looked down at Lucas's hand. Yes, she had to play her part in this facade under this roof. Hannah reached out and took Lucas's hand.

They walked toward the massive front doors that stood imposing before them.

The moment they set foot near the entrance, the double doors swung open. A butler stood at the threshold, his eyes widening upon seeing Lucas.

"Master Lucas. You have returned." The butler bowed deeply toward Lucas.

"Yes." Lucas's tone was as cold as ice.

"The Master is in the dining room." The butler opened the door wide, stepping slightly aside to clear the way.

Lucas tightened his grip on Hannah's hand.

Hannah glanced up. Lucas wasn't looking at her, but she could sense the tension taut across his features.

They walked down a long corridor lined with family portraits on the walls. Stern-faced men filled every frame, along with a solitary young boy who failed to smile in any of the pictures.

That boy was Lucas.

Hannah continued following Lucas's lead until they arrived before a set of glass doors.

Unconsciously, Hannah slowed her pace. Her gaze drifted toward the open dining room doorway.

A long table made of dark wood, a crystal chandelier hanging above, and four people who instantly stopped talking the moment the two stepped inside.

"You're back," said a man seated at the head of the table. His hair was silver, his attire immaculate, and his voice sounded like a heavy iron gate slamming shut—harsh and commanding. "This is quite a miracle." His words carried a sharp edge of sarcasm.

"I told you I would bring proof, Father." Lucas looked at Gerald Ashford, the father who had just taken a jab at his return.

Gerald scanned Hannah from head to toe in a slow, calculating manner. "This?"

Hannah felt her face burn. She straightened her back.

"This is Hannah," Lucas said. He turned to Hannah, his expression softening unexpectedly. "My wife."

A profound silence descended upon the dining room—especially after hearing the form of address Lucas used.

A woman seated on the right side of the table even dropped her fork, causing a sharp clang to echo through the room.

"Wife?" The woman's voice was gentle, almost disbelieving. Her hair was swept into a neat bun, and her eyes were soft. "Lucas, you... when?" Diane Ashford—Lucas's mother—looked on in complete disbelief at what she had just heard.

"This morning."

Silence engulfed the room once more. The tension hung thick in the air following Lucas's declaration.

"Are you joking?" The father's voice shattered the momentary stillness.

"As I said, I would come home with a wife, and I did."