Chapter 12: The Veil I Shouldn't Took Off.

Cierra's POV

I stood still… frozen… watching the whole crowd rise to their feet as if my entrance had just rewritten their destinies. Everyone smiled, applauded, whispered, stretched their necks to catch a glimpse of the bride. They always say a wedding gown comes with a special type of happiness, a glow, a rush that wraps itself around your spine and makes you feel untouchable.

I felt none of it.

The gown felt like a costume I wasn’t worthy of wearing. The veil felt like a lie. The air felt too thick. And the eyes staring at me...God, the eyes felt like judgment.

And beside me… the groom.

Dominic.

He reached for my hand, gently, almost like a man who had rehearsed tenderness his whole life. But my body betrayed me.

The moment his skin brushed mine, a sharp, warm shiver rushed through me so fast I prayed he didn’t feel it.

My heart hammered even though his face remained unreadable....this same man who had spoken to me in the club with a voice dripping heat, hunger, and something forbidden… now stood beside me speaking to me like a stranger who preferred coldness.

We were ushered to the table where the silver pen lay between two sheets of neatly arranged documents...no vows, no “I Do,” nothing romantic. This was a tycoon marriage. All signatures. All power. No emotion.

I picked up my paper the moment they handed it to me. Everything was normal until Dominic leaned slightly toward me, brushed his thumb across my wrist and murmured: “Read it again.”

His voice…

Not the club voice.

Not the man who wanted me.

Not the breath that almost lit me on fire.

This was the voice of a groom addressing a bride he didn’t love....my mother.

I blinked hard, confused, my fingers tightening around the sheet. My eyes slid up to his, and for a second, I saw him stare at me like he was searching for something I wasn’t supposed to show.

I lowered my head to really read the document.

Then my breath caught.

My throat tightened.

My eyes widened.

My stomach dropped like a bucket falling into an empty well.

I snapped my gaze back up at Dominic.

He leaned closer again, whispering, “Babe… are you okay?”

Babe.

Like I was her.

Like I was wearing her soul.

My voice shook. “Uh… I can’t sign this.”

He gripped my hand lightly, eyes still calm, still diplomatic for the cameras. “But you agreed to this.”

Agreed.

Agreed to being her stand-in bride.

Agreed to covering her court mess.

Agreed to pretending.

But I didn’t agree to this clause.

My lip trembled before I forced myself to swallow everything. The betrayal. The panic. The realization that my mother had hidden something huge.

Everyone watched us.

Every camera pointed at us.

My hand shook violently as I drew a long breath and scribbled my signature. The claps came at once....loud, overwhelming, suffocating. The band struck up music. People danced like they weren’t witnesses to someone’s life collapsing in slow motion.

Dominic walked beside me, back straight, expression unmoved, while I fake-smiled to powerful men, women, old billionaires congratulating “Samantha.”

Inside, my heart felt like broken glass.

I leaned closer and whispered, “I need to use the restroom.”

He nodded once.

I walked away with the veil brushing the floor, my breath unsteady. Once I reached the back hallway, I grabbed my phone and dialed the only person who could answer anything.

Mom.

She picked on the second ring.

“Baby,” she said lightly, “should you not be swaying on the dance floor as a bride now?”

“Mum,” I whispered sharply, “cut the pretense.”

Silence.

Then she stuttered. “Excuse me?”

“Mum, how dare you do such a thing?” My voice cracked. “Why didn’t you tell me what was inside that agreement? You know exactly what I’m talking about ....don’t play dumb!!.”

“Oh,” she breathed slowly. “So… you’ve signed it.”

“Mum, how could you?”

“Is it my fault?” she snapped.

“Do not bring that bad side of me out, Mum. Don’t you dare.”

“Did you sign it?” she repeated.

“Oh yes,” I said bitterly. “Congratulations to you.”

“Good. That’s all I wanted to know.”

I breathed out a shocked laugh. “Wow. Mum… so nice of you.”

Before she could form the next lie, I ended the call.

My chest tightened. “Fuck… fuck… fuck,” I whispered, pacing.

I dialed Blinky.

He picked fast. “Hey fake bride.”

I hissed. “Any news from George?”

“He came earlier and left.” he said slowly.

“Oh fuck… where are you?”

“Uh....I’m…”

“Blinky,” I cut in, “are you with Mr… uhm…”

“Mr Cockstar,” he completed casually.

I sighed. “George should be in the house.”

"Nah, he left.”

“I know the man I dated! He’s there. Check through the window.”

“Okay....hold on.”

A pause.

Then his sharp inhale. “Oh fuck… fuck.”

“What? What happened?”

“You were right… he’s back.”

“Oh God…” My hand pressed against my chest. “Blinky, please go in. Don’t let him see anything.”

“Sure thing, babe.”

I ended the call.

Then a hand touched my shoulder.

I jumped. “Uh...”

I turned to see a young woman smiling widely.

“Congrats, mama,” she grinned.

I forced a smile and shook her hand. “Thanks.”

“Don’t you feel hurt wearing that veil?” she asked, already reaching toward it.

I gently caught her wrist. “Nah, I’m fine.”

“I’m Naomi,” she said proudly.

“Oh… nice, nice.”

“I’m George’s sister.”

My mind blanked.

My mouth fell open. “Uh… sorry...I’m confused.”

She laughed lightly. “Well… that means you’re my step-mom.”

I swallowed. “Oh...yeah. Yeah.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Did you agree to marry my dad… or did he force you?”

I turned fully toward her. “Why would you think he’d force me?”

“No reason,” she shrugged. “Just asking.”

I nodded slowly. “Well… I need to leave.”

She blinked. “Uh… the wedding isn’t over.”

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath.

She chuckled. “You’re not exactly the fun, extroverted human, are you?”

“Call it whatever,” I sighed. “I’m… boring.”

“Come on,” she teased. “I can show you something. Somewhere. You’ll like it.”

I hesitated, then nodded. “Fine.”

As we walked, she eyed my veil again. “You sure you can’t pull that down?”

“I’m good,” I said quickly. “Don’t worry about me.”

We stepped out into a garden lit by gold lanterns. The scent of roses filled the air. Naomi talked nonstop...about drama in the family, how George fought with their father last week, how their stepmother moved abroad, how weddings made her nauseous, how she couldn’t stand the pretentious vibes of rich guests.

“…and honestly,” she said, “I don’t get why straight relationships are so messy. Like, is it the hormones? The lies? Or the men...”

I cut in softly. “Do you… have a boyfriend?”

She snorted. “No. But I had a girlfriend.”

I blinked. “Girlfriend??”

“Yeah. I’m bisexual.” She shrugged. “But I guess you didn’t get my point earlier.”

“Oh...I’m sorry. I didn’t.”

“No stress, darling.”

We walked deeper until my heel stepped on something soft....no, hollow.

The ground shifted.

A hole opened beneath me.

My body dipped forward instantly.

“Naomi!” I screamed, grabbing the nearest rope and stick. “Naomiii...help!”

She turned around slowly.

Too slowly.

Her expression changed.

Not shocked.

Not scared.

Blank.

Cold.

Intentional.

She walked toward me until she stood over the hole, staring down at me like she didn’t recognize me from two minutes ago.

“Bye, Stepmom.”

Her leg nudged my fingers.

Just enough.

I slipped.

My scream ripped through the garden.

Air rushed past my ears.

The rope slid out of my grip.

And the last thing I saw…

was her face.

Everything went black.