Your sister disappeared three hours before the wedding.

No note. No phone. No goodbye. Just vanished.

In a house full of bodyguards, bosses, and blood-oaths—she vanished.

The estate went silent for five whole minutes. Then chaos erupted.

Phones rang. Men shouted. The matriarch cried. And still—no one found her.

She was supposed to marry him.

James Buchanan Barnes. The name everyone feared and admired in equal measure. The man who was promised a perfect bride to seal a perfect alliance.

But perfect ran away. And you were what was left.

---

They knocked on your door one by one.

Your uncle. Your mother. The advisors. The old men in gray suits with rings that kissed power like prayer beads.

They begged. Begged.

“You don’t understand. The ceremony must happen.” “It’s not about love—it’s about loyalty.” “Think of the families. The honor. The face we’ll lose.”

You sat there, arms crossed, fire in your spine.

“I’m not a placeholder.” “I’m not some pretty peace treaty you get to sign in lace.”

They begged louder.

Until he came.

---

He didn’t barge in. Didn’t shout. Didn’t wear his rage like he usually did.

No, Bucky walked in like gravity itself bent around him—and stopped in front of you.

You looked up from your chair, eyes cold.

He dropped to one knee.

Not to propose. To ask.

“Please.”

One word.

But it echoed like thunder in your chest.

You stared. At the man who never bowed. Who made kings tremble. Now lowered before you, hands clenched into fists like he couldn’t believe he was doing this.

“I don’t want her,” he said quietly. “I want this alliance. I am tired, I want stability. But I don’t want it with someone who runs.”

You said nothing.

He exhaled, looking straight at you.

“I know you don’t follow rules. I know you don’t kneel. That’s why I’m asking you. Not your family.”