Prologue

"Laura, your groom has arrived." Someone shouted and the voice echoed from the hallway, erecting the awareness inside me. But I didn't care, nor I wanted to know who the hell was it.

I just looked at the sleek glass in front of me, which was portraying the dolled up me. Wearing an elegant white stripless gown, cascade out towards the ground, putting on a two tier veil and the sheer tiara on my head, with light makeup on my face.

Yes. Today is my wedding. Of course, neither with the person I love nor the person who loves me. It's with the person who was completely unfamiliar to me.

Strange, isn't it? I can marry anyone else except the person I love. It's the damn warning.

Aaron Rodgers. He is rich, good looking, qualified enough to marry me. Most importantly, I love him, he loves me.

Business competitor! Is it all that matters? Is it the only reason that I can't marry him? Is it the only reason that my family said if I marry him, I will lose them? I don't know. I don't know anything.

Ruthless Rich Bitch. That's what people call me and I don't give a damn about it.

Being one of the inheritors, granddaughter of the owner of the most prominent conglomerate, filthy rich can't be fun. Believe me, NOT AT ALL. When your life is controlled by your grandparents, and all you have to do is to please them.

"Are you ready?" This time it was my mom. She came beside me and I shifted my gaze at her in the mirror. She is always beautiful, even if I say it or not she knows.

Mom understood as I blinked my blood-red puffy eyes that were hidden with the eye makeup.

"Honey, take her with you." She looked back at my dad who was standing by the door. I know, he was not happy at all just like others.

And I also know that it was dad who sent mom here because I was alone in this room. Yeah, my friends were supposed to stay beside me here today. But luckily or unluckily, I don't have any. And my cousins? They were all busy to get ready, no one has time for me. It has been always like this.

I stood up and turned around just to see my dad in an ash-coloured tuxedo, looking as handsome as ever,

"Come." He extended his arm to me and all I could do was to force a smile as I held his arm and walked to the church with him.

Since I was a kid, everyone said I have a perfect family. My grandparents own one of the most prominent conglomerates, The Allens Group and my father is the elder son of them. He is a famous doctor and my mother is a top model. A bunch of successful people,

But was that considered as perfect? Was it because of the wealth and frame we carry? Who knows about what hides behind? No one knows.

Still, everyone seems to envy and want to be me, but how many of them know that I want to be them too?