Page 101 of Modern Romance September 2026 Books 1-4

You’re the one making her cry.

Right from the beginning he’d insisted she stay, insisted that she marry him, be his queen. Insisted that they portray a love story to the media and not what it actually was. A necessity.

Except it was a love story for her, wasn’t it? And he knew, down deep inside, that that was why she’d stayed. Her love for him.

She’d chosen him over her own happiness. She’d chosen her child’s happiness, and now she was sentencing herself to a lifetime of pain with a man who didn’t love her and never would.

How can you do that to her? Given her childhood?

He turned to face the altar, staring unseeing at the bishop intoning the ceremony, the coldness inside him growing deeper and wider. He could make her happy, he was certain of it, and yet… He’d been trying to make her happy these past two weeks, with little outings and conversation, not just sex.

That will never be enough, not for her.

He glanced at her, seeing the curve of her cheek and the gleam of moisture on it. Her face was serene, but he knew that was a mask. She’d always known how to pretend.

He was failing her and all the outings in the world wouldn’t make any difference, and neither would the sex. He could try and fill her life with that, but she deserved more than sexual obsession. More than enjoyable conversation. More than feeling like a burden or a responsibility.

She needed someone to love her in return, but that was the one thing in the world he couldn’t give her.

The cold in his gut became a knife, cutting him, and for the first time in his life, he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t stop the ceremony, not with the world watching, and even if he did, that would leave her open to all sorts of gossip and conjecture, which was the last thing he wanted for her.

No, he was going to have to go through with it. He was going to have to marry her. But he knew in his heart that he couldn’t keep her, not if he wanted her to be truly happy.

For that, he would have to let his little bird fly free.

Chapter Eleven

The day was an exercise in endurance for Wren. She smiled until her face ached, a false smile that felt faker and faker the more she used it. There were endless dignitaries to receive congratulations from, photographs to be taken, and then changing from her wedding gown into yet another gown for the reception.

This time it was a simple but elegant wrap gown in ice-blue silk that clung to her figure, making her bump indisputable.

The dinner was endless, Isandro at her side strangely distant in a way she couldn’t quite put her finger on. His arm was constantly around her as if he couldn’t bear not to touch her, but he didn’t look at her.

Had he noticed her tears at the ceremony? She’d blinked them away in the limo, and had hoped that had been enough since she hadn’t wanted to draw attention to them by requesting a cloth to wipe them away.

He’d kept glancing at her during the ceremony, so maybe he had noticed. His kiss at the end had been perfunctory, and not at all what she’d expected, and after that, well, it had been nothing but cameras and people.

Still, this was the course of action she’d decided on, even before she’d got into the limo that would take her to the cathedral. She wouldn’t leave him. Even if staying meant having to bear this constant pain inside her, this constant ache.

It was the price she paid to be with him, and there was always a price for love. It always hurt in some way.

Maybe this is your punishment.

Yes, maybe it was. Punishment for the mistake she and Isandro had made. It wasn’t a mistake that could ever be fixed, but she would bear the consequences. It was only what she deserved.

After their first dance in the palace ballroom, Wren finally decided that she’d had enough. She needed to be away from all the people, with their smiles and congratulations. She was tired of pretending she was happy when she was dying inside, and she needed to be alone.

As she and Isandro walked off the dance floor, she said quietly, ‘Would you mind if I went to bed now?’

He glanced down at her, his gaze unreadable. ‘Are you feeling okay?’

‘Yes.’ She gave him another fake smile. ‘Just tired.’

‘It has been a long day.’ He glanced around the room. ‘Give me five minutes and I’ll join you.’

Despite her fatigue, heat licked up inside her.

A wedding night with her new husband. Well, at least in bed she didn’t have to pretend. She could lose herself in the glory of his touch and forget about the pain in her heart for a night at least.