Final Part: Terms and Conditions | M.S
word count: 995
no warnings, use of y/n, angst, slow burn, forced marriage, power dynamics, high expectations, angst to fluff
synopsis: Two powerful families, two prestigious law firms, and an arranged marriage to seal the deal. As heirs to their families’ empires, you and Matt Sturniolo are bound by a contract that’s been in the works long before you were born. But as the wedding day approaches, sparks fly—will duty lead to love, or will you and Matt be trapped in a world of expectations and power?
The wedding day arrives too soon.
The dress is perfect, the venue breathtaking. It’s everything you and Matt had been told it would be. But as you stand before the mirror, surrounded by your family and the staff who’ve helped prepare every detail, it feels like a dream you never agreed to.
Your fingers trace the lace of your gown as you catch a glimpse of your reflection, barely recognizing the woman staring back. The bride. The heir to a legacy you didn’t ask for.
Your phone buzzes once more, pulling you out of your thoughts. You glance at the screen, your breath catching in your throat. It’s a message from Matt.
Matt: “I’m here. I’m ready if you are.”
But you know neither of you are ready—not for the wedding, not for the rest of your lives spent bound by a deal. Not for the life you’re supposed to start in less than an hour.
The air feels thick. You can feel the weight of it all. You need something—anything—to make it feel like it matters. To make it feel like you matter.
Your parents stand at the altar, beaming with pride, while you and Matt stand side by side, both of you stiff and formal. There’s no touching, no warmth.
Only the soft clink of the rings as they’re exchanged. The vows are read with practiced ease—empty promises, rehearsed lines—but none of it feels like it’s real. The crowd watches, but none of them matter.
It’s just you and Matt, the contract binding you together in the most public of ways.
You’re halfway through the vows when it happens.
Something in you snaps—just a flicker at first, like a spark waiting to burn everything down. You look at Matt, really look at him for the first time today. His eyes are locked on yours, distant, but for a brief second, you see something else.
Something human. Something more. You’re not sure if it’s a reflection of your own need, or if it’s something from him—but it’s there, undeniable.
And that’s when it hits you: this isn’t about the businesses, the family legacies, or the press coverage. This is about the two of you. And if neither of you speaks up now, if neither of you chooses something different, you’ll be living a life that wasn’t yours to begin with.
Without thinking, you stop.
The whole room goes quiet as your hand flies to your chest, a soft gasp leaving your lips. You can feel your heart pounding, thudding in your chest. The silence is suffocating, but it feels like the only thing that matters now.
“Stop,” you say, your voice breaking the tension like a crack of thunder.
Everyone turns toward you. Matt’s face goes pale. For the first time, his mask slips. His eyes widen, and the air seems to get heavier, thicker with the weight of what you’ve just done.
“Y/N?” he whispers, his voice almost afraid. “What are you—”
You step back, your hands shaking as you look at him. The world feels like it’s closing in on you, but you stand firm, staring him down with a mix of fear and defiance.
“This isn’t right,” you say, louder now, breathless. “This can’t be right.”
The tension in the room is unbearable. Your parents are frozen, caught between disbelief and shock. But all you can focus on is Matt—his face unreadable, his jaw tight.
Matt steps forward, his expression softening, and he reaches for you. For a moment, you want to pull away, to run, to break free from the cage you’ve been trapped in. But instead, you stand still, heart pounding, as his fingers gently brush your arm.
“Y/N, listen to me,” he says, his voice cracking. “This isn’t what we wanted either. But we don’t have a choice—”
“Don’t tell me we don’t have a choice,” you cut him off, voice sharp. “We always had a choice, Matt. But we were too scared to make it.”
He stops, his face falling as you speak the truth neither of you wanted to admit.
“I won’t marry you because it’s what my parents want. Or what your family wants,” you continue, your voice shaking but resolute. “I need to know—you need to know—if this is something we both want. Or if we’re just playing the parts we’ve been given.”
You can hear your breath catch in your throat, your chest tightening as the reality of what you’ve just said sinks in. You’ve opened the door to something bigger than any merger or family legacy.
You’ve opened the door to you.
Matt stares at you, stunned, his eyes searching yours like he’s seeing you for the first time. There’s something raw in his gaze now. Something vulnerable. He steps closer, his voice softer.
“Y/N… I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel. I don’t know what we’re supposed to do. But I know this—I don’t want to go through with this without knowing if we can make it real. If we can make it real.”
The room is silent. The guests, your parents—no one dares to breathe.
Matt holds his hand out, hesitant, unsure, but the unspoken promise in his eyes is clear. He’s offering you a choice now. A choice to make this more than just an agreement. More than just business.
And for the first time in forever, you feel like you have the power to make it your own.
You step toward him, slowly, the weight of your decision settling in. You reach for his hand, your fingers trembling as they intertwine.
The world is watching, but you don’t care. This isn’t about them. It’s about you and Matt, standing at the crossroads, choosing something real for the first time.
“Let’s make it real,” you whisper.
And just like that, the deal changes. The wedding, the marriage, the legacy—it’s all still there. But now, for the first time, it’s yours.
