A possessive man by nature, Weston was now more possessive of her than ever.
Stella merely kept quiet and pulled up her hair.
Her hair was in a mess, no thanks to all that running and the favor she did him earlier.
Weston took the wedding dress from the shelf next to her, held her waist, and helped her put it on.
The tailorâmade wedding dress perfectly complemented her figure.
He was stunned the moment she put it on. He turned her around and asked her to look in the mirror.
âLook at how beautiful you are.â
She didnât say a word.
Seeing this, he pinched her cheek and lifted her head, and looked at her in the mirror. âIf you run away today, you wonât be able to see yourself like this.â
He had spoken calmly, yet, she could feel the mixed emotion and anger in his tone.
It was as if his anger had reached its peak, but it was suppressed and turned into other emotions that were so deep it suffocated her. âWeston...â
She finally spoke, her voice a little weak, âI...â The man stared at her fixedly. âIf there is anything else you want to say, itâs better to say it now. Weâll go up and take the oath later. Thereâs not that much time left for you.â
Saying that, he turned his head and kissed her on the cheek, but there was no warmth in his eyes.
âRemember this. Youâll have no freedom in the future. Youâll only have me.â
Stella closed her eyes as her eyelashes trembled violently.
Her face now as pale as a sheet, the makeup failed to cover her fragile state.
After a long while, she shook her head. â...I have nothing to say.â
âSure?â
A sneer appeared on Westonâs face.
He suddenly tore off his tie, brought her wrists together, and tied them firmly. Instantly her eyes widened, and panic surged into her heart. âWhat are you doing?!â She watched in horror as he wrapped the tie around her hands. Without the slightest gap, she couldnât struggle free. âAre you crazy!â
âLet go of me!â Stella shrieked, struggling hard to free herself.
He squatted in front of her, lifted her skirt, and lifted her ankle in his palm.
Not knowing what he would do, she subconsciously pulled her foot away.
But he held her in his iron grip.
His palm was so hot that it made her feel uncomfortable.â Weston, you...â
âDonât move,â the man warned in a low voice.
He held her feet and took out a pair of shackles from nowhere.
She was stunned for a moment, thinking she had seen it wrong. âWhat on earth are you trying to do?!â
He clamped her ankles hard and cuffed them on her.
A crisp noise sounded.
She felt a chill on her skin. âYou cuffed me?â
âIâm not your prisoner. Why handcuff me?â She quickly retracted her foot. Only then did it become clear that these were not shackles but chain â like shackles.
It seemed they had been specially designed and was used for decoration. But there was a tiny lock on it, and a thin chain was strung together between the two feet. As it dragged on the ground, it gave off a sound that sounded like a warning.
It sounded pleasant yet cruel.