#forcedmarriage

“Save some for the actual wedding, you psychos!”

Yuri immediately buried her burning face against Aiden’s shoulder in humiliation.

And Aiden laughed softly.

Chapter Eight — (8/43)

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✨ Some lies are told softly, so they sound like love. ✨

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Sophie bounded into the room, her curly hair still slightly mussed from sleep. She spotted Emilio and her face lit up, dispelling some of the morning’s chill.

“Mr. Torres! You’re here!” she shrieked, launching herself at him.

Emilio caught her, hugging her tight, inhaling the familiar scent of childish innocence. For a moment, he forgot the absurdity of the situation, lost in the genuine warmth of her embrace. He was still Mr. Torres to her, even if everything else had changed.

“Hey, Sophie-bear,” he murmured, ruffling her hair.

Damien watched them, an unreadable flicker in his eyes.

Sophie pulled back, beaming. “Are you staying for breakfast?”

“Actually, Sophie,” Damien interjected smoothly, his voice calm and even, “Mr. Torres will be staying much longer than that.”

Sophie tilted her head, her big eyes questioning.

Damien took a deep breath. “Mr. Torres and I have something very important to tell you, monkey. We’ve decided that we… we care for each other very much. And so, we’re going to get married.”

Sophie’s eyes widened, first in surprise, then in dawning realization. Her gaze flickered between her father’s stoic face and Emilio’s slightly pale one.

“Married?” she whispered, her voice small.

Emilio forced a smile.

“That’s right, sweetie. Like in the storybooks. And I’m going to live here with you and your Papa now.” The lie tasted bitter, even as he said it for her sake.

Sophie paused, processing—then her face broke into a delighted grin. “Like a family?”

“Exactly,” Damien said, his voice flat but firm, leaving no room for dissent. He even offered a rare, almost imperceptible nod of encouragement to Emilio.

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Emilio’s heart ached. He was lying to this bright, trusting child, but at the same time, the relief that Sophie seemed to accept it—even embrace it—was profound. It meant his sacrifice, however humiliating, wasn’t entirely in vain. The financial security for his grandmother, the safety of his teaching career—it was all now inextricably linked to this fragile, manufactured happiness.

After breakfast, Ms. Albright appeared as if on cue, a tablet in hand. She had a schedule. Every hour of Emilio’s new life was already mapped out: meetings with Sophie’s new private tutor, introductions to the household staff, fittings for new clothes, discussions about the public announcement. His old life as Leo was already a ghost. His life as Mr. Torres was on indefinite hiatus. He was now just Emilio—the fiancé, the future husband, the latest acquisition in Damien’s meticulously planned world.

The days leading up to the public engagement announcement were a whirlwind of carefully orchestrated falsehoods. Emilio was given a crash course in Damien’s life—his business ventures, his carefully cultivated public image, even the names of distant relatives he’d never met but would now have to pretend to know. He met the household staff, a small army of professionals who moved with silent efficiency, their faces as discreet and unreadable as Ms. Albright’s.

His first experience with Damien’s tailor was both mortifying and fascinating. The man clucked over Emilio’s existing wardrobe before measuring him with clinical precision, whispering figures to Ms. Albright about bespoke suits and formal wear. Emilio felt like a doll being dressed for a part he hadn’t auditioned for.

Sophie, meanwhile, adapted with remarkable ease. Her private tutor quickly established a routine, and Sophie still sought Emilio out for stories and playtime, clinging to him as naturally as she did to her father. Emilio found himself slipping into the rhythm of being a stay-at-home “parent,” spending his days reading, drawing, and playing hide-and-seek in a house too large for proper hiding.

Damien remained largely absent, immersed in work. Their interactions were brief and businesslike—discussing schedules, clarifying the narrative, exchanging polite remarks about Sophie’s day. There was no warmth. No intimacy. Nothing to suggest the impending “union” they were about to announce to the world.

Tuesday arrived.

The day of the public announcement.

Emilio stared at his reflection in a dark suit that fit him perfectly—so perfectly it felt like a second skin. He barely recognized himself.

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✨ Stories that ache, burn, and bloom. 🥀

📖 Read The Gilded Cage on Wattpad

Don't ask why, but I like this kind of dinamics

The day he killed him, the stars above burned cold.

You remembered the sight of your mate's body, lifeless, sprawled across the icy floor of your chambers. The father of your unborn child—Cooler—slain with no hesitation. King Cold stood above him, expression unreadable, as if he had merely stepped on an insect. The blood hadn’t even dried before he turned to you and declared, with the weight of an unshakable empire behind his words:

"You belong to me now."

The engagement wasn’t a choice. The marriage was an inevitability.

In the early years you fought. You resisted. Even as you stood at his side as his wife, draped in royal finery, bearing the title of Queen, you despised him. Cold indulged your tantrums, your biting words, your attempts to undermine him. You tried to remind him at every turn that you weren’t his.

And yet, every attempt at defiance was met with something worse.

He never raised a hand against you, no, King Cold preferred a more insidious cruelty. He surrounded you with guards loyal only to him, ensuring you had no allies. He buried you under lavish gifts, silk and jewels, fine wines from distant worlds, dressing you up as the queen he had stolen. He granted you power, but power that was forever tied to him, so you would never forget where it came from.

And when Cooler was born, Cold made it clear:

"He is my son now."

You knew then that there was no escape.

---

Hate turned to exhaustion. Exhaustion turned to resignation. Resignation turned to something else.

King Cold was a tyrant, but he was also… generous. He listened when you made demands, when you craved luxuries, when you whispered about planets that intrigued you. He indulged your whims, and in return, he expected your presence at his side.

You didn't love him. But power, true, undeniable power, was intoxicating.

The day you told him you were pregnant again, with Frieza this time, was the day you stopped pretending you weren’t part of his empire. He smirked, victorious, as if the bond between you had been permanently sealed.

"Our son will be even greater than the last," he mused, brushing a clawed hand over your stomach. "And he will know exactly who rules this universe."

You should have been disgusted. You should have rebelled. But instead, you found yourself smirking back, because Cold was right—your son would be greater. Your blood would shape the future.

---

Now, as Queen of the Cold Force, you sat on a throne beside him, draped in the finest silks, sipping wine from a golden chalice. You had everything you had ever wanted. Races trembled at your feet. Armies knelt before your command.

You had never truly forgiven him, nor had you ever truly loved him. But power was a seductive thing, and as long as Cold continued to give you everything you desired, you could ignore the past.

He knew. He had always known.

"You may not love me," he murmured one night, fingers trailing over your bare shoulder, "but you will never leave me."

You tilted your head, considering.

Then you smirked. "And why would I?"

Alternative version (tw S/A)

Masterpost

FIC OF THE MONTH

＊ M a y ＊

I'm Weaker Without You

by The_Halcyonic_Lachesist / @chai-hat-tea

Alpha Lord Louis Tomlinson is a rake who refuses to settle down. Will he settle down for the Society's most talked about Omega? What about the enticing scent that belongs to the Beta? How will he react to said Beta pursuing the Omega too?

“𝓝𝓸 𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓱𝓸𝔀 𝓶𝓪𝓷𝔂 𝓶𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓼 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓲𝓷 𝓫𝓮𝓽𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓷𝓘𝓷 𝓶𝔂 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓲𝓼 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓵𝓵 𝓫𝓮…”

After Days of deleting and editing this Chapter, it's Finally done! Decisions on my Wattpad account. Hopefully, the next chapter doesn’t take this long but I really love how this chapter turned out.

Warning my stuff is rated M for Mature. So please don't comment talking about that. When this is the Warning, Not much Mature in this chapter but it is beginning.

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