7

Talia

The moment I stepped out of the office, Mother rushed me upstairs. Her fingers on my wrist were too tight as she dragged me through the hallway and into Val's room. She shut the door, assessing my face before letting out a long, controlled sigh.

“Are you okay?”

I wasn't.

I nodded, though tears filled my eyes instantly, blurring my vision. She exhaled shakily and pulled me into an embrace that lasted barely a second before she stepped back again. “There’s no time,” she said, already moving toward the wardrobe.

“No time for what?” I asked.

She paused, looking at me like I’d asked something foolish. “For your wedding night.”

I'd been so caught up with everything that the most dreaded part of this farce hadn't fully formed in my mind. When it did, my laugh came out sharp and hysterical. “Absolutely not,” I said. “You’d have to kill me first.”

She crossed the room and cupped my face in her hands. “Talia,” she whispered, using my real name like it was a sin, “it’s tradition.”

There was nothing traditional about defiling a woman and calling it honor. Sex was supposed to be chosen, wanted… not imposed. This was a humiliation ritual designed to stroke male ego and remind women exactly where they stood… beneath them.

I pulled back, wrenching myself out of her grip. “They will have to drag my dead body into that room. Do you hear me? I will die fighting before I let that man touch me. Before I let him own my body too.”

Her face paled. “Lower your voice.”

“Lower my voice?” I laughed again. “Why? Because someone might hear me?” My hands flew out, gesturing wildly at the walls. “Let them hear. Let him hear. Let everyone hear the truth.”

My mother stared at me like she didn’t recognize me anymore. “This conversation is pointless,” she said quietly. “Sort yourself out.” She turned and walked away.

My chest heaved as the adrenaline drained, leaving my limbs weak. Staggering into the bathroom, I braced myself against the sink and splashed water onto my face.

“Think,” I whispered to myself. “Just think.”

As I reached for a towel, my foot nudged something solid. A faint, hollow sound answered. The tile near the base of the wall was slightly uneven, catching my attention. Curiosity pricked through the fog in my head. Slowly, I crouched and pressed my fingers against the edge. It shifted easily, revealing a shallow cavity. I drew my hand back, then plunged it in. My fingers closed around something cold and hard, and I pulled out a small white box with a mixture of trepidation and disbelief. What was so important that Val had hidden it here?

I lifted the lid, and the shock from its content made my hand weak. The box slipped from my fingers, clattering to the floor. Dropping fully to my knees, I picked up the thin plastic strip and stared at it, desperately hoping I'd imagined it the first time. But there were still, undeniably, two clear lines.

Val was pregnant?

There was a note next to it, creased and hastily folded. My breaths came too fast as I unfolded it, instantly recognising Val's handwriting.

‘He knows. He's going to kill us.’

Who knew? Cold dread seeped into my bones, leaving me with a single, horrifying question. Had my sister disappeared… or had she been erased?

★★★★★

“I knew you'd come to your senses,” Mother said, walking me through the hallway leading to the honeymoon suite. It should have been my husband and me walking side by side, but nothing about this union followed the norm.

All I could think about was Val. How had I been so blind to miss that something was wrong? Deceiving the Marcellis felt like child’s play compared to what Val had done. If anyone discovered she’d cheated on her betrothed, and conceived a child with another man, no less, even death would feel like mercy.

My stomach churned violently. If Val was still alive, she was hiding. And if she was hiding, she needed time. There was too much at stake now, and my options had narrowed to one. Sacrificing my body would buy time. It would keep the lie intact, keep eyes away from questions they weren’t meant to ask. Pain could be endured. Shame could be swallowed. I could survive being broken. But death? Death was permanent.

I tasted copper and realized I'd bitten the insides of my cheek hard enough to draw blood. We finally arrived in front of the dark wooden double doors of the bedroom.

“It'll hurt less if you just stay still.” Mother said softly. Those were her final words before my hand found the handle. The door opened, and I slipped inside.