He Rewrote My Marriage Contract for His Uncle—So I Became the Real Donna Chapter 04

He Rewrote My Marriage Contract for His Uncle—So I Became the Real Donna Chapter 04

The heavy oak doors buckled inward – kicked from the 

outside. 

Lucien stormed down the aisle. His tie was crooked, his breathing ragged, and his face was locked in a 

white–hot fury. 

He saw me first. Then his gaze slid to Dante, standing 

at my side. 

“Violet.” His voice cracked across the altar like a whip. “You really know no limits, do you?” 

The entire venue went silent. Every head turned toward him, and the looks on people’s faces said everything he 

hadn’t bothered to read. 

Lucien didn’t notice. He kept walking, his voice 

climbing with every step. 

“I make you wait a few hours, and you go ahead and marry someone else?” He threw his hands wide. “So this is your idea of leverage?” 

Murmurs rippled through the hall. People frowned. 

Others exchanged glances. 

Everyone in this room knew the groom today was Dante. Everyone knew that after this ceremony, I would 

be the new Donna of the Vale family. 

Everyone except Lucien. 

He was standing on the red carpet, oblivious, jabbing a finger at me. “Violet, I never realized just how low you could go.” 

“You’d actually pull something like this just to force my hand?” His eyes were pure venom. 

I stood at the altar without so much as a shift in my expression. I watched him the way you’d watch someone walk straight into glass. 

Lucien opened his mouth to say more, but the Patriarch was already moving. Without a single word, he closed the distance and struck Lucien–a brutal backhand that cracked like a gunshot. 

Lucien’s head snapped to the side. He staggered, one hand flying to his cheek, his eyes wide and blank with shock. 

“Father?” His voice faltered. “You hit me?” 

His father’s face was murderous. “This is your uncle’s wedding. What the hell are you doing?” 

Lucien went rigid. Then something in his expression changed. “What did you say?” 

The Patriarch didn’t repeat himself. He didn’t need to – the faces of every person in the room were already telling Lucien everything. 

Lucien turned his head slowly and looked at me. Then at Dante. The arrogance bled out of his face, replaced by a creeping, absolute dread. 

“That’s impossible.” His voice fractured. “Today was supposed to be mine.” 

The reality of the room finally crashed down on him. 

Halfway through his own rant, the pieces clicked into place, and his eyes locked onto me, wild and 

accusatory. 

“Say something!” He jabbed a finger in my direction. 

“Tell me this is a mistake.” 

I finally spoke. “There’s no mistake.” 

I looked at the assistant by the altar. “Show him the 

contract.” 

The man stepped forward with the folio. I opened it myself and held it up, forcing him to read every line. 

He glanced down. His entire body went still. 

The contract was clear. Groom: Dante. Bride: Violet. 

The words were there in black and white, the Family Council seal stamped across the top. 

Lucien stared at the page, and the color drained from 

his face in waves. 

“This is impossible.” His mouth barely moved. 

“How?” 

I looked at him, utterly flat. “You changed the name yourself. Did you forget?” 

The murmurs finally broke loose around us. People weren’t whispering anymore – they were judging. 

“Who exactly is he performing for?” a voice 

murmured. “He voided his own contract, and now he plays the victim?” 

“The ceremony is sealed. Throwing a tantrum at the altar is pathetic.” 

“Imagine handing the syndicate over to someone with so little control. A joke.” 

The words hit him like shrapnel. Lucien stood paralyzed in the middle of it all, his face twisting 

darker with every sentence, unable to answer a single 

one. 

He’d come here today to play games. He’d planned to show up late, to leave me bleeding in front of a chapel full of guests, to savor the sight of my submission. 

Instead, he was the only punchline in the room. Now he was the joke. 

He was watching me in a wedding dress 

with his 

own eyes – standing beside Dante. He was watching 

the entire room acknowledge a wedding that had 

nothing to do with him. His name was losing weight in 

this hall with every passing second. 

Lucien’s head snapped up, his eyes burning. “Have you 

lost your mind, Violet? You’re actually going to marry 

him?” 

He jabbed a finger at Dante, his words spilling out fast, unraveling as he went. “His legs don’t work! Why would you marry him?” 

“Do you understand that he can’t give you a real marriage? He can’t even-” He was past dignity now, past filters. A vicious, desperate sneer split across his face. “He can’t even get you into bed-” 

“Is that so?” 

The voice came from behind me. Quiet. Cold. A silencer 

attached to a gun. 

Every sound in the hall died in an instant. I turned toward him and went completely still. 

Dante stood. 

Not braced against the altar. Not leaning. Standing on his own, without help, without strain, as if the wheelchair behind him had never been anything more 

than a stage prop. 

Lucien’s mouth stopped moving. He stood frozen in place, as if an invisible hand had closed around his throat and squeezed.