A dull ache pulsed through Lin Xinyi's head as she slowly opened her eyes.
The first thing she noticed was silence.
The second was the expensive chandelier hanging above her.
This wasn't her home.
This wasn't her wedding hall.
This wasn't… anywhere familiar.
She pushed herself up instinctively—then winced as pain shot through her temple.
"Don't move."
The voice was calm. Deep. Controlled.
Xinyi froze.
Lu Yichen stood near the foot of the bed, hands in his pockets, posture straight, expression unreadable. His suit jacket was damp from the rain, but he looked composed—almost too composed.
His eyes swept over her injury once, briefly, without lingering.
"You're hurt," he stated, not harshly, just matter-of-fact.
Xinyi swallowed. "S-sir… where am I?"
"My villa."
He said it simply, as if explaining the weather.
Then he added, "You were brought here during the wedding procession."
Xinyi blinked rapidly. "Wedding…? But I— I was supposed to go to—"
He watched her struggle to remember.
Not impatiently. Not accusingly.
Just watching.
"You collapsed on the road," he continued. "My security team assumed you were the bride."
"I— I didn't mean—"
"I know."
The firmness in his tone stopped her panic at once.
There was no anger in his voice.
No suspicion.
Only calm professionalism… and a hint of concern he refused to show directly.
"I reviewed the security footage," he said. "It's clear you were the victim of an incident."
Victim.
The word made her chest tighten.
Yichen stepped closer—not too close.
Just enough to show he wasn't treating her like a criminal.
"A doctor treated your injury. Your bruise will fade in a day or two."
His voice was steady, controlled, almost gentle in a distant way.
He picked up a glass of water and placed it neatly beside her hand—careful not to touch her.
"For your medicine. Drink when you feel ready."
Xinyi stared at the glass, overwhelmed.
Why was this powerful CEO treating her with such… respect?
She hesitated. "Mr. Lu… I'm truly sorry for the trouble. I didn't know any of this was happening."
"You don't have to apologize," he replied firmly. "You didn't walk into my wedding willingly."
He met her eyes—calm, steady, reassuring.
Then he said something she didn't expect:
"No one will blame you for this."
No anger.
No raised voice.
No humiliation.
Just… clarity.
Xinyi's eyes stung. She hadn't realized how tense she'd been until that moment.
"Thank you," she whispered.
He nodded once—brief, polite.
"Tell me your name."
"Lin Xinyi."
He repeated it quietly, committing it to memory, then stepped back toward the door.
"For now," he said, "you should rest. You're still dizzy."
"…What will happen next?" she asked softly.
He paused at the doorway, speaking without turning around.
"I'll investigate the exchange. Until then, you stay here for your safety. Nothing more."
Nothing more.
Clear. Respectful. Professional.
And then—
"Miss Lin," he added, his tone even,
"if you need anything, inform the staff. You are not a prisoner. You are a guest."
The clarity of his words eased her heart.
The door closed gently behind him.
Xinyi looked down at her wedding dress—still on her, but belonging to the wrong ceremony, the wrong man, the wrong life.
She felt as if someone had rewritten her fate in a single moment.