Mia's POV
The wedding dress slid over my head like a prison sentence.
Silk whispered against my skin—fabric so expensive I was afraid to breathe. The stylist yanked the zipper up my back while another woman fastened a million tiny buttons. I stood frozen, staring at Vivienne's phone on the counter.
I'll be waiting at the airport, my love. Our new life starts today.
My sister hadn't just abandoned her wedding. She'd run away with another man. Some guy named Damian. While I stood here wearing her dress, about to marry her groom.
Mom. My voice came out strangled. Vivienne's been cheating on Christian.
My mother snatched the phone, read the message, and her face went white. Then red. Then cold as stone.
That stupid, selfish girl, she hissed.
We have to tell Christian! He deserves to know
Tell him WHAT? Mom's laugh was sharp. That his bride ran off with her lover? That our whole family are liars and thieves? That'll definitely make him forgive the stolen money!
She had a point. A horrible, terrible point.
This is insane, I whispered. I can't do this.
You already agreed.
I changed my mind!
The makeup artist stepped back, and I caught my reflection in the full-length mirror.
I didn't recognize myself.
They'd painted my face like Vivienne's—dramatic dark eyes, sharp cheekbones, lips the color of roses. My hair was swept up in an elaborate style I'd never wear. The dress hugged curves I usually hid under baggy sweaters.
I looked beautiful.
I looked like a stranger.
Take it off. I reached for the zipper. I can't lie to him like this. It's not right.
My mother grabbed both my hands. Do you remember Dad's face when the ambulance came?
I froze.
Three months ago, Mom continued, her voice soft and deadly. You were decorating cupcakes when you heard the crash. You ran into the dining room and found him on the floor, clutching his chest. His lips were blue, Mia. BLUE.
Stop it—
The paramedic said five more minutes and he'd be dead. Five minutes. Her nails dug into my wrists. The doctor said another major stress could kill him. What do you think losing his restaurant would do? Losing everything he spent thirty years building?
Tears blurred my vision. That's not fair.
Life isn't fair. You know what else isn't fair? Your father working sixteen-hour days while your sister got modeling contracts and fancy clothes. Him having a heart attack because he couldn't afford his blood pressure medication because I spent that money on Vivienne's headshots.
I stared at her. What?
Mom's face crumpled for just a second, actual guilt flashing across her features. Then the mask slammed back.
We all make sacrifices for this family, she said. Now it's your turn.
By lying? By committing fraud?
By saving your father's life! She released my wrists and cupped my face, her touch almost gentle. You're the good daughter, Mia. The one who stayed. The one who bakes his favorite lemon cookies every Sunday. The one who actually loves him.
My chest ached.
One afternoon, Mom whispered. A few hours. Then you tell Christian everything and beg for mercy. Maybe he'll be kind. Maybe he'll understand you were protecting your dying father. Or maybe he won't. But at least we tried. At least Dad won't die thinking his daughters destroyed him.
I closed my eyes. Saw my father's smile when I brought him fresh pastries. Heard his laugh when I messed up a recipe. Remembered him teaching me to fold dough, his hands gentle and patient.
You're the only one who ever chose him over everything else, Mom said. Don't stop now.
A knock on the door made us both jump.
Fifteen minutes, ladies! the wedding planner called. The guests are seated!
Fifteen minutes.
My heart hammered against my ribs. I couldn't breathe in this dress. Couldn't think.
I'll tell Christian immediately after the ceremony, I said, my voice shaking. The second we're alone. I'll explain everything.
Of course. Mom smiled, but her eyes stayed cold. Just get through the ceremony first.
The stylist lowered the veil over my face. Cathedral-length lace cascaded down my back, so thick I could barely see through it. The world became soft and blurry.
Perfect, Mom breathed. You look exactly like her.
I didn't feel like Vivienne. I felt like Mia wearing a costume. Playing dress-up in her sister's life.
They led me out of the bathroom. The Imperial Suite was empty now—everyone had gone downstairs to the cathedral. Only Mom remained, checking her watch.
Remember, she said. Keep your head down. Don't speak unless absolutely necessary. The veil will hide your face during the ceremony. By the time Christian lifts it for the kiss, it'll be too late for him to stop.
The kiss. Panic shot through me. Mom, I've never even kissed anyone
Just let him do it. Stand still. It'll be over in two seconds. She straightened my veil. You can do this, Mia. For Dad.
A phone buzzed. Mom checked hers and her face went gray.
What? I asked. What is it?
She showed me the screen.
A message from my father.
At the hospital for follow-up tests. Feeling great! Can't wait to see photos of Vivienne's big day. So proud of both my girls.
The words hit like a fist to the stomach.
He didn't know. Dad had no idea what Mom had done. What she was making me do. He thought this was a happy day. Thought both his daughters were making him proud.
If I backed out now, if this wedding collapsed, he'd find out everything. The gambling. The fraud. The lies.
It would kill him.
Mia. Mom's hand gripped my shoulder. It's time.
The wedding planner appeared in the doorway. Miss Chen? Your car is waiting.
This was it. The point of no return.
I could run. Just grab my clothes and disappear like Vivienne did. Let Mom face the consequences of her own choices.
But then I thought of Dad in that hospital bed, smiling as he texted about being proud of his girls.
I'm ready, I whispered.
They walked me downstairs. The hotel lobby blurred past. Then I was in a white limousine, alone except for the driver. The car glided through Manhattan traffic toward St. Patrick's Cathedral.
My phone buzzed.
I pulled it from the tiny clutch purse someone had given me. A message from an unknown number.
Mia, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. Tell Christian I never meant to hurt him. Tell Dad I love him. - V
Vivienne. Texting me from wherever she'd run off to with her lover. Apologizing AFTER she'd destroyed everything.
I wanted to scream. To throw the phone. To tell her exactly what I thought of her selfishness.
Instead, I typed back with shaking hands.
Where are you?
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Finally: Paris. Damian and I are getting married next week. I know you're angry, but I had to follow my heart. You understand, right? You've always understood.
The limousine stopped.
I looked up. St. Patrick's Cathedral towered above me—massive stone walls, stained glass windows catching the afternoon sun. The door opened. The wedding planner reached for my hand.
Miss Chen? They're ready for you.
I clutched my phone, staring at Vivienne's message.
My sister was in Paris. Getting married to her lover. Living her fairy tale.
While I walked into a cathedral to marry a man I'd never met.
For a family that had never chosen me first.
The wedding planner's smile tightened. Miss Chen? Everyone's waiting.
I took her hand and stepped out of the car.
The cathedral doors opened. Music swelled. Five hundred faces turned toward me.
And at the end of that impossibly long aisle, standing at the altar in a black tuxedo, was Christian Steele.
Even from this distance, I could feel his presence—powerful, commanding, dangerous.
This man built a billion-dollar empire from nothing. This man was known for destroying competitors without mercy.
This man was about to marry a woman he'd never actually met.
The wedding march began.
I took my first step down the aisle.
My phone buzzed one last time in my trembling hand.
Another message. Not from Vivienne.
From Christian Steele himself.
I know.