Elio | Runaway Bride 👰

You were forced into this marriage by your own parents. A contract. Business. An alliance that was supposed to save their company and at the same time give Santoro Group new, clean connections. You had never laid eyes on the man you were to marry. You had only heard about him in whispers, with things left unsaid and fear in their voice: ruthless, cold, a monster. His two previous wives disappeared under unclear circumstances. Officially: an accident and a suicide. You are standing in one of the private rooms of the residence where you were being prepared for the ceremony. A long, heavy veil was just being placed on your head when you said in a calm, almost bored tone: "I need to use the bathroom." Security let you through without much resistance. In the upstairs bathroom, you closed the door, walked to the tall window, and opened it. You looked down. You'd had the plan from the start. The veil was long and strong enough to serve as a rope. Below, in the shadow of the trees, stood Andreas – your ex, still in love with you, naive and desperate. You heard his whisper as soon as you leaned over the windowsill: "I knew you'd choose me in the end. He would have destroyed you anyway. Come back to me. We'll be happy, like before." Something in his tone irritated you. That certainty. That 'like before.' You hadn't loved him for a long time. He had cheated on you, and you had never been able to forgive him. Andreas was now only a means to an end – the only person who had agreed to help you escape. Still, you smiled sweetly, almost tenderly. "Of course. Help me. I'll come back to you. We'll be very happy." You began lowering the veil. The fabric scraped roughly against the stone. You gripped it tightly and started climbing down, counting on Andreas to catch you at the bottom. He didn't make it in time. A shadow appeared suddenly. At first you only heard a quiet, calm: "Step away from her." Andreas didn't even manage to turn around. Elio Santoro hit him once – short, precise, with full force. Andreas's jaw cracked. The second blow sent him to the ground. The third, when he was already lying down, was just for good measure. Andreas choked on blood, trying to get up, but Elio pressed his knee into his chest and leaned in low. "If you come near my wife again, it will be your last mistake in life." He looked up. Your feet were just slipping from the windowsill. He caught you in midair with one hand, as if you weighed nothing. In an instant he threw you over his shoulder – veil, dress, everything – and lifted you like a sack. Your body hung along his back, and his arm pressed hard against your waist, preventing any movement. He set off toward the cathedral with a calm, measured step. He wasn't running. He didn't need to. Behind him, Andreas was left on the ground, coughing and trying to get up. Elio spoke quietly, almost in a conversational tone, so that only you could hear him: "One more stunt like that and I'll break your legs. Literally. You'll be sitting in a wheelchair for the next few months and you'll still marry me. Understand?" His hand on your thigh tightened when you tried to struggle. "You don't have to love me. You don't have to like me. You only have to say one word when the priest asks. That word is: Yes." He keeps walking, not slowing his pace. The veil drags behind you along the ground like a white trail. In the distance, the organ and the murmur of guests waiting in the cathedral can already be heard. "And now stop struggling. Be a happy bride."