Chapter 1 — Marrying a Man Who May Never Wake

POV: Aria

The heart monitor keeps beeping beyond the hospital door, steady and indifferent.

A nurse opens it for me and lowers her voice. “Mrs. Vale is already waiting at the chapel. Would you like to see the Alpha before you leave?”

I look past her at the man on the bed. Ronan Vale has been unconscious for six months. He has not opened his eyes once.

I shake my head and tighten my grip on my purse. In less than an hour, I will be his wife. I suppose that will give me plenty of time to stare at him later.

The nurse walks me to the elevator but does not press me again. “The car is waiting downstairs, Miss Quinn.” There is pity in her expression, and that small kindness hurts more than I expect. Even a stranger can see that this is not a wedding anyone should envy.

Wife is only one of the roles the Vales expect me to fill. They want a womb, an heir, and insurance against a succession war. In exchange, they will keep Quinn Tech alive and continue paying for my father's treatment.

A dying father. A company on the edge of collapse. A husband who may never wake up.

Some choice.

The car stops outside the chapel, but I stay in my seat for another minute. The driver watches me in the mirror. His tone is polite, though the warning is clear. “Miss Quinn, Mrs. Vale does not like to be kept waiting.” Everyone seems determined to remind me that time is running out—as if one moment of hesitation could cost my father his life and hundreds of employees their jobs.

By the time I step inside, only a handful of Vale relatives and Blackridge elders are present. Their hushed conversation makes the ceremony feel less like a wedding than a council hearing.

Adrian promised to meet me before I signed anything. Until this morning, I had believed he loved me. He said we could still run, that we could leave the Vales and all their expectations behind.

A muffled laugh draws me toward a closed sitting-room door. Then comes the unmistakable sound of a kiss.

“Careful,” Celeste murmurs. “What if she hears us?”

Adrian laughs. “Aria is probably still outside trying not to faint.”

My hand stops above the handle.

“Does she really believe you'll run away with her?” Celeste asks.

Adrian laughs under his breath. “Aria will believe anything if I tell her I love her,” he says. “Once she marries my uncle, she'll give me access to the Vale family's inner circle.”

Then they talk about my wolf—or the lack of one.

“An unawakened woman will never survive in Blackridge,” Adrian says. “She'll have no choice but to depend on me.”

Celeste wonders what will happen if Ronan wakes.

“He won't.” Adrian sounds completely certain. “Six months in a coma is as good as dead. Once the Pack loses its Alpha, the succession will tear the family apart. I just need to be standing in the right place when it happens.”

And me?

I will always choose him, he says.

My hands shake as I start recording. The floor seems to tilt beneath me, but I force my knees to lock. For three years, I treated Adrian's kindness like a lifeline. He sat beside me at the hospital after my father's diagnosis. He held me when the board tried to force me out of Quinn Tech. Looking back, maybe none of it was love. Maybe he was only learning when I would be easiest to control.

I save the recording and leave before they see me.

Calling off the wedding would feel good for five minutes. Then the Vale investment would disappear, my father's treatment would stop, and Adrian would get to watch me lose everything.

No. I may have been fooled, but I will not collapse where he can enjoy it.

Eleanor Vale waits at the front of the chapel with a stack of documents and no patience.

“You're late.”

“Three minutes.”

She pushes the papers toward me. “Sign.”

I do not take the pen. Ronan is not here, and I want to know how a marriage can be legal when the groom has no idea it is happening.

Eleanor folds her hands over the contract. “Before his final mission, Ronan signed an emergency succession directive,” she says. “Under Blackridge law, once an Alpha has been unconscious for six months, the Council may approve a ninety-day provisional marriage. If he wakes, he may ratify or dissolve it.”

Provisional. A neat word for a marriage one spouse never agreed to.

“Does that directive give anyone unlimited authority over his body or property?” I ask.

An elder at the end of the table adjusts his glasses. “No. The authority is limited by the conditions written into the directive,” he says.

Eleanor sees my hesitation and slides the pen closer. She does not need to repeat the threat. Refusal means Quinn Tech loses its funding and my father loses his treatment.

The pages weigh almost nothing, yet they feel like a gravestone beneath my hand. Every clause is calm and clinical, as though two lives are not being traded, only companies merged.

I sign.

As the ink dries, Adrian's voice returns to me: She will always choose me.

Not this time.

At the Blackridge estate, a maid asks whether I would like to rest or see the Alpha. Ronan was transferred from the hospital half an hour ago, and his medical team is already upstairs.

“Take me to him, please,” I tell the maid.

He lies beneath a gray sheet, wires disappearing under the collar of his hospital gown. Up close, he is paler than he appears in photographs, but no less imposing. Sharp cheekbones. Dark lashes. A mouth that looks made for commands, not softness.

I sit beside him and introduce myself.

“Strictly speaking, I'm your wife. Temporarily.”

The monitor continues its steady rhythm.

“I don't want your Pack or your money,” I tell Ronan. “I only want to save my father and the company he built.” Saying it aloud feels foolish, but I need at least one person in this house to know the truth—even if that person cannot hear me.

The door opens without warning.

Adrian stands there, anger tightening his face. “You actually signed it?” he asks. “There is still time, Aria. Leave with me.”

“Leave for where?” I ask. “Celeste's room?”

The color drains from his face.

I lift my phone. “That sitting room wasn't as private as you thought,” I warn him. When he steps toward me, I hold the screen higher. “Come any closer and this recording goes straight to the Council.”

“You think marrying a dead man will free you from me?” he asks.

“At least unconscious, he behaves more like a man than you do awake.”

I order him out. He leaves with a promise that I will regret humiliating him.

Only after the door slams do I realize how hard I am trembling.

“Your nephew is charming,” I murmur to Ronan. “On our first day of marriage, I've already made an enemy of one Vale.”

His lashes move.

For a second, I think exhaustion is playing tricks on me. The room becomes painfully quiet, every beep of the monitor magnified. Logic tells me that coma patients twitch, that muscle movement does not mean awareness.

Still, I lean closer.

Ronan Vale opens his eyes.