DASHIELL
I can't believe I was wed.
I stared at the signatures on the marriage certificate, black ink still glistening under the courthouse lights. Dashielle Harper. Alexander Astor. Two names side by side, legally bound in less than twenty minutes.
The ceremony, if you could even call it that had been brutally efficient. No flowers. No music. Just a bored clerk, a notary stamp, and the echo of our names in a small, windowless room that smelled faintly of old coffee and printer toner. Dashielle Harper and Alexander Astor had said "I do" in flat voices, signed, and that was it.
We were married.
Behind me stood my family: Mom dabbing her eyes with a tissue, Dad looking ten years older than yesterday, Selene shifting awkwardly in her heels. Bianca had refused to come, said she "couldn't stomach watching her brother sell himself" and honestly, I didn't blame her. I didn't want to be here either, but someone had to.
On Alex's side, only Gregory. No siblings. No mother. No friends. Just the towering, silver-haired CEO in a charcoal suit, arms crossed, watching everything like a man who'd already calculated the profit margin of this union.
It felt… unbalanced. Wrong, somehow. But I said nothing.
Mom was the first to move. She pulled me into a tight hug, her perfume wrapping around me like a blanket I didn't realize I needed.
"My sweet boy," she whispered against my hair. "You didn't have to do this."
"I know," I murmured back. "But I wanted to."
Dad joined, his big hand heavy on my shoulder. "We're proud of you, Dash. But if it ever gets too much… you call us. Day or night."
Selene hugged me next, quick, fierce, her voice small. "You're an idiot. But I love you."
I managed a small smile. "Love you too."
From the corner of my eye, I saw Gregory lean in close to Alex. His voice was low, but the words carried.
"...don't screw this up. We need their pediatric wing. Keep him in line."
Alex didn't respond. His face stayed blank, completely blank. No anger, no embarrassment, no resentment. Just that eerie, emotionless calm. Then his black eyes flicked up and met mine across the room.
For a second, something passed between us, cold curiosity on his side, quiet assessment on mine.
I looked away first.
The clerk handed us copies of the certificate. Gregory gave a curt nod to my parents, then strode out without another word. Alex followed, white coat draped over his arm, long strides eating up the hallway.
I said goodbye to my family one more time, promised I'd call, and then it was just me, walking toward the black SUV waiting outside.
Alex was already behind the wheel when I opened the passenger door. He didn't acknowledge me. Didn't even glance over. Just started the engine the moment I closed the door, the low rumble vibrating through the leather seat.
I buckled in, hands folded in my lap, trying to make myself smaller.
The silence in the car was deafening.
My heart was racing, the way it always did when routine shattered. I hated change. New places, new people, new sounds, new smells, they all felt like sandpaper on my skin. And now I was being driven to a new home. With a husband who hadn't spoken a word to me since the ring went on.
I bit my lip, hard, trying to ground myself. The small sting helped. A little.
I cleared my throat.
"Um… I know this is weird for you," I started, voice soft but clear. "And we don't know each other, but I'm sure with….."
"Shut your mouth."
The words sliced through the air, cold like ice.
I froze. My breath caught. My fingers tightened in my lap.
Alex didn't look at me. His face still stayed blank, utterly blank. No anger. No smirk. Just cold, absolute command.
My stomach flipped.
I swallowed, lips still tingling from where I'd bitten them.
"Okay," I said quietly.
The silence returned, thicker now, heavier.
I stared out the window, watching the city blur past, pulse loud in my ears.
After a few long minutes, the hurt bubbled up just a little. I couldn't help it.
"You don't have to be rude,"
Alex's hands flexed on the wheel. He didn't answer right away.
Then, quietly, dangerously calm:
"Just like you weren't rude when you bargained with my father to have me like I was some cattle in the market."
I sighed. Of course he wasn't over it.
I opened my mouth to explain.
"I did this for my family," I said, my words soft and careful "For our hospital. We were going to lose everything, everything my parents built, everything that keeps hundreds of kids alive every year. Your family offered help, but only if someone married you. Bianca wouldn't. So I did. If you were in the same situation… wouldn't you do anything you could to help the people you love?"
Silence.
Alex didn't even blink.
Then, in that same flat, emotionless tone he used for everything:
"No."
The word hit me like cold water.
I blinked.
"No?" I repeated, voice smaller than I meant it to be.
He didn't explain. Didn't soften it or look at me. Just kept his eyes on the road, hands steady on the wheel, like he'd just commented on the weather.
My stomach twisted. I'd expected anger, maybe sarcasm, maybe even reluctant understanding. Not a thing. Not that single, absolute refusal to feel anything about family, duty, or survival.
"O… okay," I said, trying to regroup. "But…"
The brakes slammed.
The car jerked to a hard stop on the shoulder of the empty road. My body lurched forward against the seatbelt; my breath caught.
Alex killed the engine.
Then he turned.
He leaned across the center console in one smooth, predatory motion, one massive hand braced on the back of my seat, the other flat against the dashboard caging me without touching. His shoulders filled the space. His face was inches from mine. Close enough that I could see the faint scar on his jaw, the way his dark eyes reflected nothing back.
I pressed back against the seat, heart slamming against my ribs.
"Let me make one thing very clear, little boy," he said, voice low, every syllable punched out perfectly. "You bought me. You put this ring on my finger. You wanted me. So now you have me."
He leaned closer, close enough that his breath ghosted across my cheek.
"But don't think for a second that I care about your family, your hospital, or your sense of duty. I don't feel guilt or your bligation. And I sure as hell don't feel love."
His gaze dropped to my mouth for half a second, then flicked back up.
"I can make your life very, very miserable, hubby," he continued, the word "hubby" dripping with mockery and something darker. "Every single day. Until you're on your knees begging me to let you go."
He paused, letting the threat settle into my skin.
"Or…" His voice dropped even lower, almost a whisper. "You can be good. You can learn your place. And maybe, just maybe, I'll decide to keep you instead of snapping your neck."
My pulse roared in my ears. My fingers dug into the leather seat.
He held my stare for another endless second, blank, unreadable, but burning underneath.
Then he pulled back slowly.
The engine started again.
He drove on.
I stared straight ahead, lips parted, chest tight.
And for the first time since I'd slid that ring on his finger…
I realized the man I'd married didn't just lack warmth.
He lacked everything.
And that made him the most dangerous thing I'd ever let into my life.