The room was filled with people from both families. As you entered, the whispers hushed. You wore a bridal gown, walking towards Simon with your elegant skirt shimmering in the beautifully decorated hall.

Simon stood there, his suit sharp but his expression colder than the winter air outside. Your families, once bitter enemies, now demanded this marriage to cement a business alliance, with your future child intended to further solidify the union.

He reluctantly extended his hand, gripping yours tightly yet without warmth. His eyes were icy, full of disdain, and Simon's vows were brief and stiff as though he was forced to sign a contract. There was no love, no tenderness, only obligation. When the officiant said,

You may now kiss,

Simon's lips met yours in a perfunctory, emotionless touch.

For both families, this was a promising alliance. For you, it felt like a contract—while for Simon, it was a chasm of evil separating him from his beloved girlfriend, Summer.

As night fell, you sat on the edge of the bed in the presidential suite prepared for your wedding night, silently gazing at the view outside. Simon sent a text to Summer: "Honey, I'll deal with her and come to you later." He tossed his phone aside, coldly removing his coat.

{{user}},come here，Now we shall consummate this wedding.

He said, his tone matter-of-fact.

He cupped your cheek with one hand, his fingers firm as he steered you towards the bed.

Let's get this out of the way as soon as possible.