Three years later...
Two women in simple white uniforms step into the quiet dressing room, where Jasmine Li sits alone, staring blankly at the antique mirror. Their expressions are polite but distant.
"Miss Li," one says softly,
"please come with us."
Jasmine rises, her hands trembling slightly as she follows them through the corridor. Each step echoes like a countdown in her chest.
She keeps repeating the same words in her head like a prayer: You're doing the right thing.
This is better than marrying that dying old man your father chose. You chose this.
The door opens into a room bathed in warm afternoon light.
On a velvet chaise, a shimmering white gown waits—silver lace trailing like frost.
Jasmine stares at it for a long moment before stepping forward and letting the women help her dress.
She settles into the chair in front of the mirror again, this time in the wedding gown.
It fits perfectly, hugging her slender frame like it was made just for her. But she feels none of the excitement a bride is meant to feel.
Focus on the money, she tells herself, not the risk.
Just two weeks ago, she was a house helper—cleaning windows, scrubbing floors, preparing meals.
She took care of Julian Chen, the enigmatic heir bound to a wheelchair.
He was cold, unreadable... yet hauntingly beautiful and terrifying all at once. And now, she is getting married to him.
Her phone vibrates. The screen lights up with the word Dad.
She ignores it.
He only ever calls when he needs something. Never to check on her. Never to say he's proud.
The door creaks open again. This time, it's Mrs. Chen.
Jasmine sits up straighter, pulse spiking.
Mrs. Chen walks in slowly, her usual steel exterior softened by something almost... motherly.
She sits beside Jasmine, resting her palms gently on her lap.
"The dress looks great on you," she says.
Not you look beautiful. Just the dress. Jasmine still forces a smile, appreciating the effort.
Mrs. Chen never wanted this wedding to happen.
She was against it until Julian twisted her arm—metaphorically, of course.
Threats wrapped in charm. Jasmine has learned to recognize them.
"Thank you," Jasmine replies quietly.
The older woman gives her a lingering look, then stands.
No more words. Just a nod.
She leaves Jasmine alone again with her swirling thoughts.
The ceremony starts.
Soft classical music hums in the background as guests take their seats. There's no one from Jasmine's side—no mother, no brother, no true family. She walks alone down the aisle, fingers clenched around her bouquet so tightly her knuckles turn white.
Eyes follow her every move and Jasmine's legs almost fell out but she forcefully pushed down forward.
She could hear their many assumptions about who she is and how she must have seduced Julian while working for him but none of them dares to speak the words too loudly.
Not one of them can crosses the Chen family.
At the end of the aisle, Julian waits in his black suit, seated in his sleek wheelchair. He's motionless, his face unreadable.
Dark hair neatly styled, eyes cold as obsidian.
Jasmine takes a deep breath and meets his gaze as she steps up to him.
All the ladies idolize him for his good looks and intelligence.
He single-handedly built the Chen empire after his father's failure seven years ago and despite his accidents, his admirers never reduced.
He doesn't smile. Not since after his accident and Jasmine didn't expect him to
She used to be terrified of him. She still is, a little. The rumors say he's ruthless, a genius with no soul.
But she also remembers the quiet moments—how he never once raised his voice, how he listened more than he spoke, how his silence often felt heavier than words.
She once idolized him from afar. Now she stands beside him as his bride.
This marriage is nothing but a contract. One year. Then freedom. That was the deal.
She had run away the first time he proposed it. Literally. Out the gate, through the gardens, gone without a word.
But the next day, her father summoned her with an ultimatum: marry an old, dying businessman in China or never return.
So here she is. In silk and lace. Saying goodbye to the life she knew.
The priest's voice breaks through her haze.
"Do you, Jasmine Li, take Julian Chen to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
She swallows the knot in her throat and whispers into the microphone,
"I do."
The priest turns to the other side.
"Do you, Julian Chen, take Jasmine Li to be your lawfully wedded wife—"
A pause.
A long one.
Jasmine's heart skips.
He finally answers, voice low.
"I do."
And then the part she dreads: You may kiss the bride.
As the words left the priest's lips, Jasmine noticed Julian's brow arched.
Julian doesn't move. His dark gaze lingers on her lips for a second—almost like he's measuring something—but he says nothing.
Everyone's waited, their excitement in check and Jasmine breath deeply.
She also hesitates. Then, catching Mrs. Chen's eyes in the crowd, she remembers the lie she spun at Julian's request: that she's in love with him despite his condition.
That this is real.
With only thoughts of not blowing her cover and have Mrs. Chen suspect something, Jasmine lower her body and kissed him lightly on his lips.
His lips are cool. Unmoving.
She pulls back immediately and turns to the guests with a stiff smile. Applause follows, the music swells, and she breathes a sigh of relief.
But then Jasmine felt a chill eerie run on her shoulders and turn slowly to see Julian's eyes staring at her.
His face remains still, expression unreadable.
There's something in his gaze—something unreadable and cold. It chills her more than the kiss did.
She stepped further away from him, afraid she wouldn't be able to keep her legs up if she keeps standing so close and smiles at the camera flashing at her.
The ceremony ends.
Julian wastes no time. As guests crowd forward to offer congratulations, he raises a hand and waves them off.
Gabriel, his personal assistant, appears like a shadow and wheels Julian toward the exit. Jasmine trails after them silently.
They ride in silence.
Jasmine sits in the backseat beside Julian, her wedding dress ballooned around her. Sweat drips down her back from the layers of fabric.
She dares not speak. Julian hasn't looked at her since the altar.
She prays they get to their destination soon and she can also get out of his presence
Her stomach protest for some food to remind her she hasn't eaten all day just to fit into this dress.
Her stomach growls.
Loudly.
She presses a hand to her belly in horror, cheeks heating. She glances sideways to see if he heard it.
But Julian remain indifferent—one hand on a phone, the other scrolling through his tablet like nothing happened.
Jasmine phone buzzes again.
Dad.
She silences it.
After today, he has no power over her. No more being a pawn. No more abuse.
She survived his cruelty, her stepmother's mockery, and her stepsister's fake kindness.
Here, even if she's married to a man she barely understands, she has at least... options.