Forced into an arranged marriage to save my family’s business, I expected awkward small talk on my wedding night. But then Adriana gave me an order: “From now on, you must do everything I tell you.” Was this a joke? No. It was a power play — and if I refused, my family would lose everything.
“Son, I wouldn’t ask this of you if there was any other way,” my father said, his voice lacking its usual commanding tone.
A man seated at a desk in a corner office | Source: Midjourney
“You’re certain the only way to save the business is for me to marry some woman I’ve never met?” I couldn’t keep the disbelief from my voice.
He sighed. “Adriana is Victor’s daughter. The merger with his company is the only thing that can save us now. And he’s… traditional. He wants to unite the families.”
“So I’m just a bargaining chip?” The words tasted bitter.
“James, please understand—”
“No, Dad. I understand perfectly.”
An unhappy man in an office | Source: Midjourney
“You built this company, made all the decisions that led to this point, and now I have to clean up your mess by selling myself like some medieval prince.”
His face fell. “Just meet Adriana before you decide.”
I wanted to refuse. But the desperation in my father’s eyes stopped me.
“Fine,” I conceded. “I’ll meet her. But I’m not promising anything.”
A serious-looking man | Source: Midjourney
We met in a restaurant a few days later. Adriana was breathtakingly beautiful with a voice like honey and eyes that assessed everything in seconds.
“I appreciate you agreeing to meet me,” she said as she took her seat. “This situation is… unconventional, but I think we can make it work.” She smiled faintly and twirled a lock of hair around her finger. “Let’s get better acquainted first. What would you like to know about me, James?”
A smiling woman in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
The conversation flowed freely after that. Adriana was intelligent, witty, and surprisingly easy to talk to. By the time we parted ways, I found myself rethinking my opposition.
“She’s incredible,” I told my father the next day.
Relief washed over his face. “So you’ll do it?”
I hesitated. Something still felt wrong, but seeing the hope in my father’s eyes…
“Yes,” I finally said. “I’ll marry Adriana.”
A man in an office smiling faintly | Source: Midjourney
Our wedding was a business transaction disguised as a celebration. Corporate partners filled the pews, the vows felt like contract terms, and even the kiss seemed negotiated — brief, proper, for show.
The reception dragged on until finally, we were alone in the presidential suite of a five-star hotel.
Adriana kicked off her heels and sat on the edge of the massive bed. I adjusted my tie, unsure of what came next in this strange arrangement.
A man adjusting his tie | Source: Pexels
Adriana locked eyes with me. “From now on, you must do everything I tell you.”
“Excuse me?” I laughed, certain she was joking. “Right. And what’s your first command, Your Highness?”
Her expression didn’t change. “I’m hungry. Go get me a burger from the McDonald’s on Grant Street. Walk there.”
“Adriana, it’s almost midnight. Grant Street is nearly two miles away.”
An incredulous man | Source: Midjourney
“I’m aware.” Her smile was cold. “Better get going.”
I stared at her, waiting for the punchline. It never came.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Dead serious, James. My father only agreed to this marriage because your father promised you’d do whatever I wanted. That was the deal. So, you can either be my servant… or watch your family go bankrupt.”
A smirking woman | Source: Midjourney
I was stunned. Within a few hours, Adriana had transformed from a witty, easygoing woman into an authoritative stranger. One I couldn’t refuse without risking it all.
“Fine. One burger coming up.”
In the elevator, I pulled out my phone and called a taxi. I might be trapped in this marriage, but I wouldn’t be completely powerless.
A man’s finger pressing an elevator button | Source: Pexels
The next morning set the tone for what would become my new normal. Adriana woke me at 6 a.m.
“Press my blue suit,” she instructed. “Then make coffee. Black, one sugar.”
“I’m not your butler,” I protested.
She looked at me with those cool eyes. “No, you’re my husband. Which means you’re whatever I need you to be.”
A woman smiling smugly | Source: Midjourney
Each day brought new demands. Wash her car by hand. Pick up her dry cleaning. Massage her feet after work. Each task was more demeaning than the last.
“Why are you doing this?” I finally asked one evening as I polished her collection of designer shoes.
“Because I can,” she replied simply. “What could be better than having a man who caters to my every need?”
I continued the task in silence, but my mind was racing.
A foot in a high-heeled boot | Source: Pexels
She thought she was breaking me, but she was teaching me instead. Every demand revealed something about her routines and her weaknesses.
When I couldn’t take it anymore, I went to my father.
“She’s turned me into her personal servant,” I confessed.
His face fell. “I had no idea, son. But the contract with Victor…”
“Can’t be broken without bankrupting us,” I finished for him. “I know.”
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
“Don’t be,” I replied, a plan already forming. “I’ll handle Adriana.”
A determined man | Source: Midjourney
The tiny wireless cameras were easy to install. I put them everywhere: the living room, the kitchen, her study, our bedroom.
For two weeks, I collected evidence of Adriana ordering me around like a dog, threatening to destroy my family if I disobeyed, and laughing on the phone with her friends about how she had me “completely under control.”
All while her Instagram portrayed us as the perfect couple. “Power duo,” she called us in her captions. If only her followers knew.
A woman taking a selfie | Source: Midjourney
The breaking point came on a rainy Tuesday night.
“I want sushi,” she announced from the couch. “From Akira. You’ll walk there.”
“That’s three miles away,” I pointed out.
“So? Take an umbrella.” She didn’t even look up from her phone.
“No,” I said simply.
The word hung in the air between us. She slowly raised her head, eyes narrowing.
A woman on a sofa | Source: Midjourney
“What did you say?”
“I said no, Adriana. I’m not going.”
She stood, her face flushing with anger. “You don’t say no to me. Ever. Or have you forgotten what happens if you don’t play along?”
“Go ahead,” I challenged. “Call your father. Tell him how disappointed you are.”
“You know I will.” She reached for her phone. “And your family will be finished.”
A glaring woman | Source: Midjourney
I smiled. “I don’t think so.”
Her fingers paused over the screen. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Call him,” I urged. “Please. I insist.”
Confusion flickered across her face, but she made the call, putting it on speaker.
“Daddy? We have a problem. James is being difficult. I think we need to reconsider—”
“Adriana.” Her father’s voice was ice cold. “What the hell have you been doing?”
A cell phone | Source: Pexels
She froze. “What do you mean?”
“James sent me videos. Dozens of them. I had no idea this was what you had in mind when you said you wanted him to do everything you said! Is this how I raised you to behave? Like a tyrant?”
The color drained from her face as she looked at me, finally understanding.
“You recorded me?” she whispered.
I nodded. “Every moment. Every demand.”
A man with crossed arms | Source: Midjourney
“Adriana,” her father continued, “you’ve handed your husband enough blackmail material to destroy our family’s reputation, and he made it clear he’ll use it, too. You’re getting divorced. Those were his conditions: a divorce from you that leaves the business arrangement with his father intact. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Daddy,” she managed, her voice small.
When the call ended, she turned to me, eyes pleading. “Please, you can’t do this to me! It will ruin my image if we divorce.”
A teary-eyed woman | Source: Pexels
I smiled. This was an opportunity to teach her a valuable lesson.
“I’ll consider staying,” I replied. “But only if you obey my demands.”
Outrage and fury flickered in her eyes, but she nodded.
For the next two weeks, Adriana got a taste of her own medicine. I didn’t go nearly as far as she had, but I made sure she understood what it felt like to be controlled.
A downtrodden woman | Source: Midjourney
“Fetch my coffee,” I would say. “And remember, two sugars.”
She would comply, her jaw tight, her eyes burning with hatred.
Meanwhile, I had my lawyers working on divorce papers. When they were ready, I left them on the kitchen counter for her to find.
“What’s this?” she asked, picking them up.
A woman holding an envelope | Source: Midjourney
“Divorce papers,” I replied calmly. “Our marriage is over.”
“But, you said you’d stay if I obeyed you!” Her voice shook. “You lied to me!”
“Yes,” I agreed, “and I hope you learned something from it. We might’ve actually been able to make this work, Adriana, if you hadn’t used that business deal as a way to enslave me. Pack your things and get out of my apartment.”
A satisfied man | Source: Midjourney
“And before you go,” I added, “post on your Instagram that we’re separating amicably, by mutual agreement.”
“And if I don’t?” she challenged.
I held up my phone. “Then these videos go public.”
An hour later, her perfectly crafted post appeared. “After much reflection, James and I have decided to part ways. We remain committed to our families’ shared business interests and wish each other well.”
Social media icons on a phone screen | Source: Pexels
The door closed behind her, and for the first time since our wedding day, I could breathe freely again.
This arranged marriage had cost me months of dignity, but it had taught me something valuable: no contract, family obligation, or financial concern was worth surrendering control of my life.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
I Organize Wedding for Rich Woman, on the Day of Event My Husband Gets Out of Groom’s Limousine — Story of the Day
One day, I attended the wedding of a very affluent woman, where I served as the event manager. I had been intricately involved in the planning of this wedding from the start. However, when I saw the groom for the first time, my heart nearly stopped. It was my John!
I’m Amanda, 28 years old, working as a private organizer of celebrations and events. Today was the grandest wedding I’d ever been assigned to handle, all for Catherine, a 38-year-old heiress of a clothing empire, who had spared no expense for her big day.
I had taken a two-hour flight to organize Catherine’s wedding, eager to bring her vision of a dreamy wedding to life. She wanted everything to be perfect, and so did I, but neither of us could have anticipated how the evening would soon take an unexpected turn.
A wedding invitation card | Source: Unsplash
Catherine was marrying Arnold, a young, affluent businessman, whom I had never met despite our numerous planning sessions.
“My fiancé trusts my vision, and given his busy schedule, he prefers handling business matters,” she’d say.
It struck me as odd that he never once showed up, not even to discuss the menu or the music. When I once asked, “Are you sure he wouldn’t want to weigh in on the band or the wine selection?” Catherine simply laughed, reassuring me he was fully on board with her choices.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
While Catherine was confident about her beloved fiancé, my curiosity about this mysterious groom grew as the wedding neared.
Little did I know the biggest surprise was yet to come, and it would leave me frozen in the face of crisis.
Today, the wedding venue buzzed from dawn. I directed everyone meticulously, ensuring the ivory tablecloths and golden centerpieces were perfectly placed and the crystal glassware and fine china were carefully arranged.
“Carefully stack the plates by size on that table over there, and make sure the glasses are accounted for by the caterer’s checklist,” I instructed the loaders.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
As the banquet hall filled, the air hummed with elegant music and whispered conversations. Then, a hush fell over the room as the presenter’s voice rang out, “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the groom, Arnold!”
I was eager to finally see this mysterious man who had been too busy to show up at any of the prior meetings.
A sleek black limousine pulled up. The door opened, and instead of Arnold, out stepped John, dressed impeccably in a tuxedo. My John, or so he had been until he disappeared six months ago, leaving me with heartache and a mountain of debt.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
I felt a chill run down my spine, and my feet cemented to the floor as I stared in disbelief. He looked around, and when his eyes met mine, there was no flicker of recognition, just the cool detachment of a stranger.
Shock rooted me to the spot as the room spun around me. Here was the man I once loved, now Catherine’s groom, living a new life under a new name. How could this be happening?
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
His presence suddenly made me relive the painful memories of the day I found he had left. That was when I experienced the horror of seeing his belongings gone and our bank accounts drained. The man I trusted with my heart had stolen my savings.
As he confidently walked toward the banquet hall, a guest congratulated him with a pat on the back. Arnold, or John as I knew him, smiled with the charm of the perfect groom, yet beneath that facade was the con man who had devastated my life. As he vanished into the crowd, I decided I had to expose him before Catherine fell victim like I had.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
And looking at him, I remembered the day my life changed…
6 months ago…
One night, John and I were discussing our upcoming wedding plans in our cozy bedroom, the room bathed in the gentle glow of the bedside lamp.
“And how’s everything coming along with the wedding plans?” I inquired, aware of his lead on organizing our celebration.
He looked concerned. “Well, all the major payments are done. The venue, the caterers, the band, and the decorators,” he explained. “But I’ve used up all the funds.”
Confused, I pressed on, “All the funds? Even the money we set aside?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
“Yes,” John sighed. “That and a bit more from my own accounts. There’s been a hitch with my project. The payment I was supposed to get this month has been delayed.”
“Of course, I understand. Things happen,” I reassured him.
“Could you sign a power of attorney in my name? Just so I can handle the payments more smoothly,” he asked.
Trusting him completely, I agreed. “I got the confirmation from the bank today. You can use my accounts now. They said the power of attorney paperwork was all in order.”
“Thank you, Amanda. I promise this wedding is going to be everything we’ve dreamed of and more.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
That night, as we drifted to sleep, I felt secure in our love. To me, John was already my husband, and to him, I was already his wife. We had exchanged rings privately, but to the world, we were still an unmarried couple.
I trusted him with everything, yet I was unaware it would be our last night together.
The next morning, the bed beside me was cold and empty, the first sign of the nightmare that awaited. John’s usual morning presence was missing, and the room bore the eerie silence of his absence. My heart sank as I realized the depth of his deception.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
“John?” I called out, hoping to hear him in the bathroom or kitchen, but there was only silence. My unease deepened as I walked through the cold apartment to the kitchen and then to other rooms—nothing.
That’s when I noticed muddy shoe prints leading to our closet. Heart pounding, I followed the trail and found the closet empty except for a few of my dresses.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
Chilled, I grabbed my phone and saw notifications from the bank—one for $38,000 and another for $23,000, both withdrawn from my accounts just an hour ago. Panic set in as I dialed John’s number repeatedly, but it only reached voicemail.
“He wouldn’t,” I whispered in denial, tears clouding my vision as the truth sank in: John had disappeared, and with him, all our savings.
Driven by a mix of betrayal and desperation, I dressed and walked to the police station, feeling every step weigh heavy with his deceit. I managed to choke out to the officer at the desk, “Excuse me, I need to report a theft.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
In the office, Officer Harris asked, “Can you tell me more about how this happened?”
“My husband… I mean fiancé, John Freeman, has disappeared along with all our savings,” I explained, detailing how I had given him access to my bank accounts via a power of attorney to manage our wedding payments.
“He… he showed me receipts of caterers, decorators, and the venue and talked about the arrangements. I trusted him,” I admitted.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
Officer Harris took notes, then explained that since John had power of attorney, his actions weren’t illegal per se.
“It’s complicated. We will try to investigate, try to find him, but recovering the money might be difficult if he’s not found,” he said, hinting at the bleak chances of recourse given John’s likely fictitious identity.
“I understand. Thank you for your help, Officer Harris,” I managed to say, standing up slowly.
He gave me his card and I left the police station in tears, a crushing realization settling in. John’s thorough deceit left me alone to face the fallout.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
Present time…
There he was, John, now called Arnold, mingling confidently at his wedding, appearing every bit the affluent businessman he was impersonating. I knew the truth about him, but seeing him laughing and engaging with guests filled me with a mix of anger and fear.
Without hesitation, I marched towards him, my heart pounding. As he turned and saw me, his smile dropped momentarily. Before he could speak, I slapped him, the sound resonating across the hall, silencing nearby conversations.
“You are a scoundrel and a swindler!” I yelled, ensuring everyone could hear.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You must be mistaken,” he said.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
Turning to the bride, Catherine, I exposed him, “This man is not who he claims to be! I know him as John; he is my ex who cheated on me right before our wedding. He left me drowning in debt and ran away with all my money!”
Arnold, now desperate, declared, “She’s mentally ill! Don’t listen to her. My name is Arnold, not John.”
Ignoring his lies, I retorted, “Oh, really? And I suppose you have a multitude of passports and names to use as well? How convenient for your scams!”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
I pulled out my phone to call the police but was interrupted by a man stepping forward, his badge visible.
“Ma’am, my name is Peter Greenwood, and I’m the chief of the local police department. I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” he said sternly. “This is my sister’s wedding, and I know Arnold well. He’s a good man. You’re clearly confused.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
Defeated and furious, I left, my mind racing with plans for exposing John’s true identity. I couldn’t let him deceive Catherine as he had deceived me.
At a nearby cafe, I mulled over my options while sipping strong black coffee. Remembering Catherine’s story about her grandmother’s sister, Linda, who she wished could see her happiness, sparked an idea. It had been decades since Catherine last saw her.
“What if Linda comes to the wedding today?” I murmured to myself, envisioning a plan. There would be no real Linda—I would take her place.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
Then, I called Carla, a talented makeup artist, and asked her to make me look like a 90-year-old woman. She agreed, and came to my place in no time.
Soon, I was sitting in my living room, transformed into an elderly woman, ready to reintroduce myself as Linda at the wedding. I was determined to expose Arnold and prevent another disaster.
Approaching the banquet hall entrance as “Linda,” I told the guards, “My name is Linda, I believe I’m expected.”
They hesitated, not finding my name on the list. “Oh, dear, there must be some mistake. Please, could you call Miss Catherine?” I requested with a frail voice.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
Soon, Catherine approached, puzzled. “Who are you?” she asked.
“Don’t you recognize your grandmother Linda?” I replied, maintaining the elderly act.
Tears welled up in Catherine’s eyes as she embraced me. “Grandma? Wow, you look…it’s been ages! How did you— How did you know about today?”
“Grandma Linda always knows, my dear Catherine!” I chuckled.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
Inside, I sought out the event coordinator and requested the microphone. Addressing the gathering, I began, “Good evening, everyone. I am so delighted to be here today to celebrate the union of these two wonderful souls.”
I glanced at Arnold, then announced, “And I have brought with me a very precious gift. A legacy that has been passed down in our family from generation to generation.”
Pulling out a fake sparkling diamond, I declared, “This is a precious diamond, worth about $800,000. It has been in the bank storage all my life, and I will return it there today. I give Catherine the right to use this storage and keep this diamond safe.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
While Catherine thanked me with tears, I watched Arnold closely. Two hours later, he made his move. He stood up, excused himself to use the toilet, and moments later, the lights went out. I knew it was Arnold. I knew he had his eyes on the diamond in my purse.
I quickly hid behind the back entrance with a glass decanter in my hand, leaving my purse on the table. As Arnold rushed through with the diamond, I struck him on the back of the head. He collapsed, dropping the diamond.
“You were right,” Catherine’s brother, the police chief, said upon witnessing the scene. He soon called his team at the wedding venue to arrest Arnold.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
Catherine approached with shock and gratitude on her face. “Amanda, it was you all along?” she whispered.
I confirmed, explaining my actions to protect her. She was too shaken by the events on what was supposed to be the biggest day of her life. But a week later, imagine my surprise when she showed up to meet me, thanked me, and offered me a job as her personal assistant.
“I’d be honored, Catherine,” I accepted, embracing a hopeful future.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
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