Emma's POV
I wake up screaming.
The nightmare was so real. Victoria in my wedding dress. Alexander smiling at her. Everyone clapping. And me, invisible in the corner, screaming for them to stop but no sound coming out.
Then I remember it's not a nightmare.
It's today.
Right now, at this exact moment, Victoria is probably getting her hair done. Putting on makeup. Stepping into my handmade dress with its silver thread and hand-sewn pearls.
In three hours, she'll walk down the aisle I was supposed to walk down.
In three hours, she'll marry the man who promised me forever.
I check my phone. 9:47 AM. The anonymous warning message from last night stares back at me: "Damien Cross will destroy you too. You're not his partner. You're his revenge weapon."
Should I confront him? Demand the truth?
My door flies open without a knock.
Eleanor Cross walks in carrying a breakfast tray. Fresh fruit, toast, orange juice. The smell makes my stomach growl—I haven't eaten since yesterday morning.
"Good morning, dear." Eleanor sets the tray on the nightstand. "Damien thought you might be hungry."
"Where is he?"
"In his office. He's been up since five working." Eleanor sits on the edge of my bed like we're old friends. "How did you sleep?"
"I didn't." I show her the anonymous text. "Do you know anything about this?"
Eleanor reads it carefully. Her face doesn't change. "Someone's trying to scare you."
"Is it true? Is Damien using me?"
"Damien is a complicated man." Eleanor hands back my phone. "He's been planning revenge against the Kanes for ten years. Yes, you're part of that plan. But Emma, that doesn't mean he doesn't genuinely want to help you too."
"So I'm a tool. A weapon."
"We're all tools for something." Eleanor's voice is kind but honest. "The question isn't whether Damien has ulterior motives. The question is: do his motives align with yours? Do you want revenge against the people who destroyed you?"
I think about Victoria in my dress. About Dad stealing my inheritance. About Alexander's cold eyes when he left me.
"Yes," I whisper. "I want them to hurt the way they hurt me."
"Then it doesn't matter why Damien wants the same thing. You both want the Kanes destroyed. Work together." Eleanor stands up. "Now eat breakfast. The wedding starts in three hours. Damien has a plan."
"What plan?"
Eleanor smiles mysteriously. "Ask him yourself."
She leaves. I eat the breakfast quickly, my mind racing. What could Damien possibly plan? The wedding is happening. There's nothing I can do to stop it.
Or is there?
I shower and find clothes in the closet that fit perfectly—jeans, a soft sweater, boots. Someone knew my exact size. That should creep me out, but I'm too tired to care.
I head downstairs following voices to what must be Damien's office.
The door is open. Inside, Damien sits at a huge desk covered in papers and computer screens. He's on the phone speaking rapidly about stock prices and market shares. He sees me and holds up one finger—wait.
I wait in the doorway, studying him.
In daylight, Damien Cross looks even more intimidating. Sharp suit. Sharp features. Everything about him screams power and control. This is a man who gets what he wants.
And apparently, what he wants is to use me to destroy the Kanes.
He ends the call and stands up. "Emma. Good morning. Did you sleep?"
"No. We need to talk."
"About the anonymous text?" Damien's face shows no surprise. "I expected someone would try to turn you against me. Probably your family, trying to get you back under their control."
"Was it them?"
"I don't know yet. I have people tracking the number." Damien walks around the desk and leans against it. "But Emma, let me be clear about something. Yes, I approached you because you're connected to the Kanes. Yes, I want to use that connection to hurt them. But that doesn't change the fact that I can genuinely help you rebuild your life."
"So I'm a tool with benefits?"
"You're a partner in a mutually beneficial arrangement." Damien's eyes are intense. "I'm not going to lie to you and pretend this is purely altruistic. I want revenge. You want revenge. We can get it together."
I appreciate the honesty, at least. "Eleanor said you have a plan for today."
"I do." Damien picks up a tablet and shows me the screen. "The wedding reception is at the Grandview Hotel ballroom. Five hundred guests. Media coverage. Alexander's father James Kane specifically requested press to document his son's 'charitable marriage to a dying woman.'"
My stomach turns. "They're using Victoria's fake illness for good publicity."
"Exactly. Which means there will be cameras. Reporters. Social media live streams." Damien's smile is sharp. "The perfect audience for a revelation."
"What revelation?"
"That Victoria isn't dying. That she lied to steal your fiancé. That your family orchestrated this entire betrayal." Damien sets down the tablet. "I have a private investigator pulling Victoria's real medical records as we speak. The ones that show she has a manageable condition, not a terminal illness."
Hope flares in my chest. "You can prove she lied?"
"By this afternoon, yes. The question is: what do you want to do with that proof?"
I think about Victoria's Instagram post. Her smug caption about dreams coming true. The comments calling her brave and inspirational.
"I want to expose her," I say. "In front of everyone. At the reception."
"That's what I hoped you'd say." Damien grabs a folder from his desk. "Here's how we do it. You show up at the reception—"
"I'm banned from the wedding. Patricia made that clear."
"The ceremony, yes. But the reception is at a public hotel. Anyone can walk into the ballroom during cocktail hour. Security won't stop you if you look like you belong." Damien opens the folder showing photos of expensive dresses. "Which you will, because you'll be wearing designer clothes and walking in with me."
My heart pounds. "You want to crash my ex-fiancé's wedding reception?"
"I want to destroy the people who destroyed you. At their moment of celebration. In front of five hundred witnesses and live cameras." Damien's eyes glitter with something dark and exciting. "Emma, they took everything from you in private. Let's return the favor in public."
It's cruel. Vindictive. Everything my mother taught me not to be.
But my mother is dead. And the people who are supposed to love me stole her legacy.
"What if it backfires? What if no one believes me?"
"They'll believe medical records. They'll believe a private investigator's testimony. They'll believe the evidence." Damien steps closer. "Emma, I'm offering you a chance to take back your dignity. To show them you're not some pathetic ex-girlfriend who disappeared quietly. You're a woman who fights back."
I want to. God, I want to so badly.
But I'm scared. Scared of making it worse. Scared of failing. Scared of becoming someone cruel.
"I need to think about it."
"The reception starts in two hours. You need to decide now." Damien's voice softens slightly. "I know this is terrifying. But Emma, doing nothing is a choice too. And that choice means they win."
My phone buzzes. Instagram notification.
Victoria posted again. This time it's a photo of her at the ceremony venue. She's wearing my dress. My hand-sewn, three-months-of-work, poured-my-heart-into-it dress.
The caption: "Walking down the aisle in twenty minutes! Marrying the love of my life! God is so good! "
Two hundred likes already.
Comments flood in:
"You look like an angel!"
"The dress is GORGEOUS!"
"Crying happy tears for you!"
The love of her life. She's calling Alexander the love of her life.
The man I gave six years to. The man I worked three jobs for. The man I gave my inheritance to.
I look up at Damien. "I'll do it. I'll crash the reception and expose them all."
Damien's smile is triumphant. "Excellent. Eleanor will help you get ready. We leave in ninety minutes."
He turns back to his desk, already making phone calls, arranging details.
I walk back upstairs in a daze. What am I doing? This is insane. This will blow up my entire life even more than it already has.
But maybe that's okay. Maybe my old life needs to be completely destroyed before I can build a new one.
Eleanor is waiting in my room with three designer dresses laid out on the bed. "Damien texted me. You said yes."
"I said yes."
"Good girl." Eleanor hugs me quickly. "Now let's make you look so stunning they'll regret ever letting you go."
Two hours later, I'm standing in front of the mirror and I barely recognize myself.
The dress Eleanor chose is navy blue, elegant, expensive. My hair is styled in soft waves. My makeup is subtle but perfect. I look sophisticated. Powerful. Nothing like the girl who got dumped yesterday.
"You look beautiful," Eleanor says softly. "Your mother would be proud."
Would she? Would Mom be proud of me crashing a wedding to publicly humiliate people?
Or would she be disappointed that I chose revenge over forgiveness?
I don't know anymore. And I don't have time to figure it out.
Damien appears in the doorway. He's changed into an even more expensive suit. He looks like he belongs on magazine covers.
"Ready?" he asks.
"No. But I'm doing it anyway."
"That's the spirit." Damien offers his arm. "Let's go crash a wedding."
We walk downstairs and out to the car. A different car this time—a sleek sports car that probably costs more than my yearly salary.
Damien drives. Fast. The city blurs past.
My phone won't stop buzzing. More Instagram posts from the ceremony. Victoria and Alexander at the altar. Them kissing. Everyone clapping.
It's done. They're married.
I missed my chance to stop it.
But I haven't missed my chance to ruin it.
We pull up to the Grandview Hotel. Valets rush to take the car. People in expensive clothes stream into the building.
"Stay close to me," Damien murmurs. "Act like you belong here. Confidence is everything."
We walk through the lobby. No one stops us. No one questions us.
The ballroom doors are open. Music drifts out. Laughter. Champagne glasses clinking.
I can see inside. Victoria in my dress, laughing with guests. Alexander beside her, smiling. My father and Patricia holding court with other wealthy families.
They all look so happy.
That's about to change.
Damien squeezes my hand once. "Last chance to back out."
I think about the anonymous text. About the warning that Damien will destroy me.
But you know what? I'm already destroyed. They destroyed me yesterday when they stole everything.
What's left to lose?
"Let's do it," I whisper.
We step through the ballroom doors.
And my phone buzzes one more time.
Another message from the anonymous number: "You walked right into his trap. Damien Cross isn't here to help you expose the Kanes. He's here to destroy YOU in front of everyone. Get out now before it's too late."
I freeze in the doorway, phone in hand, as five hundred people turn to look at the ex-fiancée who just crashed the wedding.
And beside me, Damien Cross smiles.