"Kneel." As soon as Emma winters was pushed out of the car, she was forced to kneel.

"Knock on the ground." With another low command, her head was pushed down, hitting the marble floor heavily.

It hurt,she said painfully and there was blood, accompanied by the pain.

However, the person holding her paid no attention, forcing her to keep kowtowing.

Blood slid down her cheeks and pooled at the corner of her mouth. It tasted salty.

Emma wanted to scream, but the red cloth stuffed in her mouth kept her silent.

Her long hair was yanked up, forcing her to raise her head and look ahead.

A man, Gabriel Moore, was lying quietly in a red coffin.

Emma swore he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

She stared dazedly at the man in the white coffin. Gabriel was so beautiful.

It was beyond anything she could have imagined.

If she'd had the chance to marry a man like this in the past, she would have rushed to do so without hesitation.

Then, she would have shared his bed.But today, she didn't want to marry him.

She knew exactly what marrying a dead man meant.It meant she had to die.

"Ridiculous, this is your husband. From today on, you and he will be married. Remember to respect and love each other when you get there, and stay together…" Mrs. Evelyn Moore, Gabriel's mother, stepped forward and spoke gently, as if Emma had already become part of the Moore family.

Emma couldn’t bear to listen any longer; her eyes filled with horror. She wasn’t dead yet, so how could she be part of this twisted marriage?

She struggled desperately, catching her captors off guard and breaking free from the two men who were holding her.

Then, she turned and ran.

At the same time, she yanked the cloth from her mouth and shouted for help, her voice echoing as she ran down the mountainside. "Help… Help…"

She didn’t want to die. She was only nineteen years old.

But no matter how fast she ran, she couldn't outrun the well-trained members of the Moore family chasing her.

Two men grabbed her arms, dragging her along the stone floor, leaving a crimson trail that seemed to mesmerize any who looked.

As for her, she looked back down the mountain, realizing she was getting farther and farther from freedom and life.

"Let me go, let me go, I beg you," she cried.

with bloodshot eyes, wishing that in another life, he would be nothing but her enemy.

All those in front of her were people

"Kneel." The command was sharp, and before Emma could react, she was forced to the ground, her knees hitting the cold marble floor with a brutal thud.

Pain surged through her, the impact leaving her breathless. Blood, warm and thick, slid down her cheek, pooling at the corner of her mouth. The metallic taste was a grim reminder of her situation.

She wanted to scream, to fight back, but the red cloth stuffed in her mouth stifled any sound. The forceful hands behind her yanked her long hair, tilting her head up until her eyes were forced to meet the scene before her.

Gabriel Moore. His body lay still in a white coffin, looking as if he were sleeping, his beauty so unnerving it almost seemed unreal. She stared, her mind racing, mesmerized by the serene perfection of the dead man before her. Gabriel had always been a figure she admired from afar. A man like him handsome, powerful, would have been the dream of any woman.

But now? Now, all she could see was death.

If she had been asked to marry him before, she might have run to his side without a second thought. She might have dreamed of a life with him, of sharing a bed, of building a future. But today, she understood the truth. Marrying him meant dying. It meant joining him in the grave.

"Ridiculous." Mrs. Moore’s voice sliced through Emma’s thoughts.Evelyn stepped forward, her tone sickeningly sweet. "This is your husband now. From this day on, you and he are bound. Remember to love and cherish him in the afterlife."

Emma felt bile rise in her throat. A twisted marriage with a dead man was no future at all. She wasn’t dead yet. She didn’t want to die.

Desperation clawed at her chest, and with one final burst of strength, she wrenched herself free from the women holding her. She bolted, the cloth still wedged in her mouth, muffling her cries.

"Help! Someone, please help!" Her voice echoed off the mountainside, but no one came.

Her body was still bruised from the earlier struggle, but she kept running, every instinct screaming at her to survive. Yet, no matter how fast she ran, the Moore family's enforcers were faster. Two men tackled her, dragging her back toward the coffin, leaving a crimson streak behind.

Emma twisted and cried out, her voice raw. "Let me go! Please, let me go!"

Tears blurred her vision as she desperately glanced back toward freedom, but it was slipping away, growing more distant with each passing second. "I’ll marry him. I’ll stay here in the cemetery, guarding him forever, just please—don’t let me die."

The words were a desperate plea, but her fear of death was stronger than her terror of being locked in a graveyard forever. She just wanted to live.

"This is your life now. You either climb in on your own, or we throw you in." The voice was cold, final. It belonged to Mrs. Moore.

Emma’s heart dropped as she was shoved to the ground before the coffin. There was no escape. Surrounded by the Moore family, she felt smaller than ever. Her father, Victor Winters, stood silent among them, a cold, indifferent figure in the crowd.

"Dad..." She crawled toward him, her bloodied hands grasping at his pants. "Please, Dad. Take me home. I don’t want to die. I’ll do anything. Please."

Her voice broke with desperation, and she looked up at him, her face a picture of agony and despair.

But Victor didn’t move. His eyes were empty, distant. He wasn’t the father she had known.

In that moment, Emma knew he was no longer her protector. He was just another enemy.

As Mrs. Moore’s chilling voice echoed once more, "The time has come. Put her in," a pair of hands grabbed Emma, and before she could protest, she was thrust into the coffin, her fate sealed.