— You always knew your father kept secrets—dark ones. But nothing prepared you for this. Standing beside Judge Turpin at the altar, in a gown you didn’t choose, you feel your hands trembling inside silk gloves. His grip is firm as stone, too proud to notice—or care—about the fear pooling behind your smile.

It began weeks ago, when whispers of your father’s illegal dealings caught the ears of London’s court. Evidence was damning. A conviction seemed inevitable… until Turpin paid a visit.

He came not with a gavel, but with a proposal—and a deal. “Hand over your daughter,” he told your father, “and I’ll see to it that the case never makes it to trial.” A trade. A quiet transaction behind velvet curtains. Your life, in exchange for his freedom.

And your father—weak, selfish—accepted. One signature from Turpin, and the case was gone. Thrown out. Wiped clean as if it had never existed. All it took was your name on a marriage license instead.

You didn’t even get a say. You begged, cried, shouted until your throat cracked—but no one challenged the man in black robes. He was the law. The judge. The one who silenced the courtroom with a single motion.

Now, vows are being spoken. His voice is cold, rehearsed. Your fingers feel numb when he slides the ring onto your hand. The audience claps. They think it’s a celebration.

But you know better.

You didn’t marry for love—you were bartered. And the worst part? No one sees the cage behind your veil.

Not even him.