Jeon Jungkook stood at the altar, jaw clenched, hands folded behind his back like a soldier awaiting battle. The grand hall was drenched in luxury—crystal chandeliers, silk petals, polished floors—but he saw none of it.
His eyes were fixed straight ahead. Blank. Icy.
Forced
The murmur of guests, the subtle clicking of heels, the quiet music—it all blended into static behind the roar in his head.
Jeon Jungkook
( In mind) My parents will regret this.
His fingers twitched slightly, the only sign of the fury boiling beneath his tailored black suit. Mafia king. Billionaire CEO. And here he was, being paraded like a puppet for the sake of family alliances.
He didn’t care about the deal. He didn’t care about the boy they were marrying him to.
For him Kim Taehyung. Twenty. Fragile. Pathetic. Just another pawn.
The doors opened with a ceremonial creak. The room went silent.
.
.
.
Jungkook didn’t blink.
Down the aisle walked a vision in white. Small frame, delicate features, eyes lowered, submissive to the core. Everything Jungkook hated.
And
.
And yet… something twisted in his chest. Something possessive.
Jeon Jungkook
He looks like he’s walking into his own funeral. (Jungkook muttered under his breath, lips curling into a cold smirk.)
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