Chapter Four

I slowly turned back and hoped it should not be who I thought it was.

"Talie, congratula-" his eyes dropped to my bleeding palm.

"Oh my God," he glared at Tristan.

"What happened to your palm? Did he hurt you?" Cole, my boyfriend whom I was very much in love with but ended things with, said. My heart thumped in my heart as I saw him, looking as dashing as ever.

"No, he did not hurt me," I smiled. In my despaired heart a twinge of happiness sliced through and I did not realise I was smiling.

"Here, let me help you," he stretched his arm, completely ignoring Tristan.

I stretched my arm to put the bleeding palms in his, when the deep voice of Tristan ruined my moment.

"Don't,' He simply said. I dropped my hands in confusion.

"Excuse me?" Cole said.

"She is my wife. Nobody gets to touch her"

"She is my girl-" Cole cleared his throat, "best friend," he said.

A triumphant smirk displayed on Tristan's lips.

"That was what I thought. Have a good day," he tried to shove Cole away.

"You do not have the right to-"

"It is time to dance," he started to walk away, leaving me and Cole alone.

"Now!" He barked and I sighed and looked up at Cole. He smiled at me. The kind that made me melt for him.

I let out a little smile back at him and followed Tristan out into the ballroom.

The ballroom decorations were gold themed. When I talk about the gold, I don't mean the plastic kind of gold, I mean the twenty four carat real gold.

He dragged my bloody palm and covered it with his own, making us walk arm in arm towards the ballroom.

The grand ballroom was a buzz with music and laughter as Tristan and I took to the dance floor for our final dance as newlyweds. The crowd cheered and clapped, their faces beaming with joy. But I knew the truth, we knew the truth. I, Tristan, my parents, his parents knew- this was all a facade. A carefully constructed lie, designed to deceive the world into thinking we were the perfect couple. Why, though?

Tristan's hand grasped mine, his fingers tightening as we swayed to the music. His eyes locked onto mine, a hint of a mocking smile playing on his lips. I forced a smile back, my heart racing with tension. We moved in perfect harmony, our steps choreographed to perfection. But beneath the surface, a storm brewed.

"Why did you do it?" I glared at him as he guided us to fit the rhythm of the song.

"You know, Natalie," he whispered, his voice low and husky, "we make a good team. We could make this work." The idiot completely ignored my question. I huffed.

I raised an eyebrow, my voice barely audible over the music. "Make what work, Tristan? Our marriage? Our love? Our divorce? Your cheating?"

He chuckled, his eyes glinting with dark amusement. "Our public image, of course. We have to keep up appearances, for the company's sake."

I felt a shiver run down my spine as he pulled me closer, our bodies swaying in perfect harmony. The music ended, and we took our final bow as the crowd erupted into applause. The room was a blur as we made our way off the dance floor, our fathers approaching us with stern expressions.

"Remember, kids," my father said, his voice firm, "you have to keep up the act. No scandals, no slip-ups. The company's reputation is at stake."

Tristan's father nodded in agreement. "Yes, and don't forget, you have a public duty to fulfill. Pictures, interviews, the works. You have to be on your best behavior at all times."

I felt a surge of resentment, my heart racing with anger. This was all just a game to them, a game of power and wealth. And I was just a pawn, a mere puppet on strings.

As we posed for the cameras, our smiles fixed and our eyes shining with fake happiness, I knew I had to make a move. I couldn't keep up this charade forever. But for now, I had to play along.

The flash of cameras and the shouts of reporters followed us as we made our way out of the ballroom. We waved and smiled, my face aching from the constant pretence. The honeymoon awaited us, a supposed romantic getaway that would be nothing more than a publicity stunt.

As we drove away from the venue, Tristan's face turned ice cold and he did not even spare me a glance throughout the ride.

The silence was suffocating.

"Leila huh? How long have you been together?"

He raised an eyebrow, his eyes glinting with suspicion.

He did not answer me though. He just stayed distant. I sighed.

But I just smiled and turned away, my mind racing with plans. Plans to escape this prison, to break free from the chains that bound me. Little did I know, the real challenge was only just beginning...

The car sped on, the city lights blurring into a haze as we headed towards our destination. I gazed out the window, my thoughts consumed by the web of lies and deceit that had ensnared me. But I knew I had to keep up the act, for now. The game was far from over, and I had to play along if I wanted to survive.

"What the hell?!" I yelled as I touched my bleeding palm.