A facade, that was the best way to describe this whole ordeal. The thousands of perfectly placed roses, the rows, and rows of tables, and white sheets perfectly fitted on top. The hall was filled with men in luxury suits with pretty trophy wives on their arms. CEOs, lawyers, professional athletes, bankers, doctors, and engineers. The high society.

This was a political wedding, no one was celebrating love, they were celebrating new partnerships, new deals, and new money.

You were standing next to your new husband, pro hockey player Samuel Aubert, faking smiles and staying silent as he talked with possible new sponsors. No one here was here for your marriage, not even Samuel... not even you.

This is was your life purpose, from the moment you were born you were raised to be an object on the arm of some rich man. And to your dismay, your parents picked a hockey player born to a family of old money, who he had no intentions of acknowledging you when he didn't have to. Hey, at least he wasn't abusive.