Clara stood in front of the mirror and stared at her grey dress.
The fabric felt heavy against her skin, matching the mood in her heart.
Her stepmother pushed the bedroom door open without knocking first.
Stepmother: You need to hurry up because the car is already waiting outside.
Clara: Why are you forcing me to go through with this terrible ceremony?
Stepmother: Your father made a deal with the billionaire family years ago.
Clara: Julian is in a coma after his tragic car accident last month.
Stepmother: The contract states you must marry the heir before his birthday today.
Clara smoothed down the wrinkles on her long formal dress.
She knew her father faced massive debt and bankruptcy without this union.
The wealthy estate had insisted on holding the wedding inside a grand cathedral.
Yet they brought a full hospital bed straight into the holy sanctuary.
Clara walked down the carpeted aisle while dozens of guests turned to look.
People whispered behind their polished leather hands as she passed their wooden pews.
She saw her stepbrother smirking from the front row near the altar.
Stepbrother: Make sure you smile for the high society cameras today, Clara.
Clara: You all should feel ashamed for turning a tragedy into a circus.
Stepbrother: Wealthy people love a good public drama when money is involved.
Clara reached the front of the bright cathedral with a heavy heart.
Julian lay motionless on the clinical bed draped in white linen sheets.
A sleek heart monitor beeped steadily right beside the floral displays.
His handsome face was pale, showing a small healing cut near his forehead.
Clara stepped closer to the bed and leaned over the silent young man.
She pulled a small wooden chair near the medical frame to sit down.
The priest cleared his throat nervously while holding a leather holy book.
Priest: We are gathered here today under very unusual legal circumstances.
Guest: Just skip the speech and get to the funny part!
The crowd erupted into sudden harsh laughter that echoed off the high stone arches.
Clara felt a warm tear slide down her pale cheek as she listened.
She leaned down close to Julian's ear to speak away from the microphone.
Clara: They brought me here to make us both a huge public joke.
Julian did not move a single muscle under the heavy tuxedo jacket.
Clara took his right hand gently into her own two trembling hands.
His fingers were cool, but she held them tightly to give him warmth.
She stared into his peaceful face and felt a wave of deep protection.
These wealthy people viewed him as a broken tool rather than a human being.
She vowed right then that she would never join in their cruel mockery.