Chapter 3
Isadora
The moment I heard that unfamiliar name, the symphony around me vanished. My mind went blank—completely unable to think.
My future husband had just looked at my face during our wedding vows and called out another woman's name. Was I dreaming? If so, this had to be the worst nightmare I'd ever had.
I froze. Even breathing became difficult.
The priest's voice cut off abruptly. He'd clearly heard it too.
His normally gentle, solemn face filled with shock, his hand holding the ceremony book suspended mid-air. He looked at Alex first, then at me, seemingly unsure whether to continue.
Alex, standing across from me, had gone deathly pale. His palms were slick with cold sweat, yet he gripped my hand tighter, refusing to let me pull away.
He leaned in close, his voice quick and desperate in my ear. "Just nerves, Isadora. A slip of the tongue. The IPO team is watching. Your parents are watching. Don't embarrass everyone."
His voice trembled but carried that familiar condescension.
I didn't look at the panic in his eyes. I lowered my head. My eyes burned, tears threatening to spill, but I forced them back.
"Continue the ceremony."
I heard Alex tell the priest, his voice cold and hard.
"Miss Isadora Morrow, do you take Alex Walker to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
Every eye in the cathedral was fixed on me.
But that name wouldn't leave my head. I stayed silent. Below, the guests began to stir, whispers spreading through the pews.
I still didn't answer.
Sensing my silence, Alex finally panicked.
He leaned closer, grabbed my wrist, his voice shaking. "Isadora, I'm begging you. Don't leave me standing here. Don't do this to me. Please?"
I bit my lip hard, keeping my tears from falling.
I looked down at the first row of guests. My parents smiled up at me, beaming. If I walked away now, I'd be tomorrow's front-page scandal. I couldn't imagine the fallout.
Maybe, maybe he really was just nervous? His work pressure was crushing. A slip of the tongue... wasn't impossible, right?
"Isadora?" The priest prompted softly.
I took a deep breath, swallowed every tear, forced a smile, and heard myself speak in a voice that sounded numb, mechanical.
"I do."
Alex's whole body relaxed. I felt his grip on my hand finally loosen.
I'd given in.
I pushed down the humiliation and went through the rest of the ceremony on autopilot. Exchanging rings, the kiss, accepting congratulations... every movement felt programmed, like a hollow puppet going through the motions, forcing a smile while everyone cheered.
The second the ceremony ended, Lia locked the door to the dressing room and grabbed my shoulders, her face dark.
"Isadora, tell me the truth. What the hell happened up there? Did Alex say something to you? You looked awful."
"Nothing, Lia." I avoided her eyes, stiffly adjusting my veil. "The dress was just too tight. I could barely breathe. My brain was oxygen-deprived, so I blanked out for a second."
"Really? Just the dress?" Lia looked skeptical. "Because Alex was looking at you like something was seriously wrong."
"He was just worried about me." I turned, forced a smile, and gave her a quick hug. "Look, Lia, the press release already went out. Don't worry about me."
It wasn't just Lia. During a break at the reception, my mother pulled me aside, concern in her eyes.
"Isadora, if you're not feeling well, you should rest early. You didn't look right during the ceremony."
"I'm fine, Mom. Alex takes good care of me. Don't worry."
I kept lying to the people closest to me, covering up this marriage that looked perfect from the outside with clumsy excuses.
I chose to turn a blind eye and a deaf ear, not because I was weak, but because I still held on to the last shred of hope in my heart. I refused to believe that everything we had shared over the past six months was a lie.
If tonight—on our wedding night—he could just sit down, look me in the eye, and give me a reasonable explanation, I'd believe him.
Our wedding night. The bedroom was huge, ornate, empty. Faint rose incense did nothing to ease the heavy air. I showered, changed into a delicate silk nightgown, and sat on the edge of the bed, fidgeting.
When Alex emerged from the bathroom, smelling faintly of alcohol, I gathered every ounce of courage, clutched the hem of my nightgown, looked up carefully, and asked softly.
"Alex... today, at the cathedral, that name you said... Valentina. Who is she?"
At the mention of the name, Alex's body visibly tensed. But he didn't answer directly.
He walked to the bed, leaned down, braced his hands on either side of me, caging me in his arms. His warm, alcohol-tinged breath hit my ear without warning, sending shivers down my spine.
"Baby, do you really want to talk about someone else on our wedding night?"
His lips grazed my earlobe, feather-light.
His fingertips hooked under the delicate lace edge of my collar, the warmth of his skin sending a shiver racing down my spine. The room was bathed in the soft glow of a single bedside lamp, casting golden highlights across his chiseled features and turning the air thick with anticipation.
I wanted to push him away. Even as my body began to grow feverishly hot. "Alex, that's important—"
"No." Alex's tone was as condescending and superior as ever. He declared with absolute certainty, "The most important thing right now is to feel me, baby. I'm going to make you feel so good."
Slowly, deliberately, he unfastened each button of my nightgown, one by one, his eyes never leaving mine.
The fabric parted like a whispered secret, revealing the smooth expanse of my skin beneath.
He eased the gown off my shoulders, letting it slide down my arms in a silken cascade until it pooled loosely at my waist. As he leaned forward and captured my lips in a hungry, urgent kiss, I almost forgot what I had just wanted to say.
I trembled under his gaze, my body already awakening to his touch. He reached behind me, unclasping my bra with practiced ease, and let it fall away. My full breasts spilled free, nipples tightening instantly in the cool air.
Alex's hands were warm and sure as they cupped their weight, his palms gently kneading the soft flesh while his thumbs circled the sensitive peaks. He teased them with feather-light strokes, then firmer pinches that drew soft gasps from my throat.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured against my skin, his voice low and husky, vibrating through me. His lips followed the path of his hands, tracing hot, open-mouthed kisses along my neck and down to my collarbone.
My face flushed red as I felt his kisses trail downward. Sex with Alex always made my heart surge with overwhelming passion.
I parted my legs instinctively, my breath coming in shallow pants as he lowered his head and worshipped the area with his mouth—kissing, nipping, sucking lightly until my hips twitched with need.
Finally, his fingers reached the apex of my thighs.
I was already slick with arousal, my folds swollen and glistening.
He parted me gently with two fingers. His fingertip found my swollen clit and began rubbing in slow, maddening circles, applying just the right pressure to make sparks dance behind my eyelids.
"So wet for me," he whispered, his voice laced with satisfaction. Two fingers slid inside my tight heat, moving in and out at an agonizingly slow pace while his thumb continued its relentless circling on my clit. The dual stimulation almost made me scream aloud.
I arched my back, fingers clutching at the sheets as the foreplay stretched on, thorough and deliberate.
My body quivered with each expert touch, arousal coating his hand and dripping down my thighs.
The room filled with the soft, wet sounds of his fingers working me open, mingled with my increasingly desperate moans.
He watched me intently, eyes dark with lust, drinking in every reaction as if committing it to memory.
When the tension became almost unbearable, he withdrew his fingers and replaced them with his mouth.
His tongue flicked against my clit with focused precision, alternating between broad, flat strokes and tight, sucking pulls that sent jolts of electricity through my core.
He lapped at my wet folds, savoring my taste, delving deeper to explore every inch of me.
My hands tangled in his hair, holding him close as my legs tensed around his shoulders.
Toes curling, breath hitching, I teetered on the edge of release—but he slowed just enough to keep me suspended there, drawing out the exquisite torment.
"Please, Alex..." I begged, my voice breaking.
He lifted his head, lips glistening, and smiled that devastatingly tender smile. "Not yet, love. I want to feel you come around me."
With effortless strength, he lifted me onto the bed, positioning himself above me.
The mattress dipped under our combined weight.
I felt the thick, heated length of his cock pressing insistently against my entrance, heavy and pulsing with need.
He pushed in slowly, inch by glorious inch, letting me feel every ridge and vein as he filled me completely.
The stretch was intense, almost overwhelming—a delicious burn that melted into profound fullness.
The intense, burning stretch of being filled felt both powerful and deliciously good.
Our fingers interlaced, our eyes locked in a heated gaze.
He paused for a moment, letting me adjust to his size, then began to thrust slowly and deeply.
Every stroke hit the most sensitive spot inside me.
Pleasure coiled and rose in my lower belly.
I actively lifted my hips to meet him, nails digging into his back, urging him to go deeper.