A soft knock on the door interrupts us. “It’s time,” Nikola’s voice calls through the wood, formal and distant.
Suzy squeezes my shoulders once, then steps back. “Ready?”
I’m not. I’ll never be ready for this, but I nod anyway, because ready isn’t a luxury I have anymore.
The living room has been transformed into something resembling a chapel, if chapels had floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city and security cameras in every corner. Whiteflowers—roses and lilies—are arranged on the mantelpiece and side tables. Candles flicker despite the afternoon sunlight. It’s beautiful in a sterile way, like a high-end funeral home.
The Sharov brothers stand near the windows, and I’m struck immediately by how different they look from what I expected. I’d prepared myself for monsters—cold, cruel men who’d view me as an acquisition, a weakness in their brother’s armor. Instead, I find myself facing three men who radiate quiet strength and unexpected warmth.
Simon has dark hair and kind blue eyes that crinkle at the corners when he smiles at me. His wife Eden stands beside him, elegant and composed, offering a small nod of acknowledgment that feels more like acceptance than judgment.
Ardaleon—Leon—is broad-shouldered, obviously dangerous, but there’s something protective in the way he positions himself between me and the door. Not threatening, just… watchful. Present. Like he’s already decided I’m worth defending.
“You look lovely,” Eden says quietly, and I can tell she means it.
“Thank you.” The words feel automatic, polite responses from the person I used to be.
Lukyan, the eldest brother, is missing—probably handling security or watching for threats. Even at my wedding, their world intrudes.
Nikola stands near the makeshift altar, wearing a dark suit that emphasizes the lean lines of his body. He looks like he could be posing for a magazine cover—handsome, powerful, utterly in control. When our eyes meet across the room, his expression doesn’t change. No smile, no warmth, noreassurance. Just the same calculated distance he’s maintained since I agreed to this arrangement.
The officiant—a judge who clearly owes the Sharovs a favor—clears his throat. “Shall we begin?”
Everything that follows feels like a dream. Or maybe a nightmare. I walk toward Nikola on legs that don’t feel attached to my body, Suzy’s hand briefly squeezing mine before she takes her place beside Eden. The judge speaks about commitment and partnership and legal bonds, but his words bounce off me like rain on glass.
Nikola takes my hand when prompted, his fingers warm and steady against mine. His touch is impersonal, careful—the contact of two people fulfilling a contract rather than expressing affection. When he slides the ring onto my finger, his movements are precise, practiced, like he’s done this before.
Maybe he has.
The vows are minimal, practical things focused on legal requirements rather than emotional truth. We promise to honor the arrangement, to protect each other’s interests, to maintain the fiction for as long as necessary. The words taste like ash in my mouth.
When the judge pronounces us married, Nikola doesn’t kiss me. Just a brief nod, a squeeze of my hand, and it’s over.
I’m Mrs. Sharov now, bound to a man I don’t trust and don’t understand, protected by a name that comes with its own set of dangers.
No one cheers. No one throws rice. The brothers offer quiet congratulations, their wives smile politely, and everyone pretends this is normal. A strategic alliance dressed up in white flowers and candlelight.
As the afternoon wears on, I find myself studying the family I’ve married into. They’re nothing like I expected. Simon tells gentle stories about Nikola as a boy, trying to make me laugh. Leon asks about my work with genuine interest, not pity. Eden talks about adjusting to their world with understanding that doesn’t feel performative.
They treat me like I belong here, like I’ve always been meant to be part of their tight-knit circle. It should be comforting. Instead, it’s disorienting. I came prepared to fight monsters and found myself surrounded by people who genuinely seem to care about my welfare.
It makes the cage feel softer, more insidious. Harder to rage against.
“If you need anything,” Simon tells me as they prepare to leave, “anything at all, you call. Family takes care of family.”
“Thank you,” I manage, because what else can I say?
They leave one by one, offering hugs and promises to check in soon. Suzy is the last to go, pulling me aside with worried eyes.
“Are you going to be okay?”
I want to tell her I don’t know. That I feel like I’m disappearing into someone else’s life, losing pieces of myself with every hour that passes in this place. That everyone keeps telling me I’m safe now, but safety has never felt more like captivity.
“I’ll be fine,” I lie.
She doesn’t believe me, but she doesn’t push. “Call me if you need me. Any time, day or night.”
Then she’s gone too, and I’m alone with my new husband in our pristine fortress.
