Bound to the Devil I know

The chandeliers were applause; Aiden was the storm, and my life folded like napkin linen under his hands.

I stood beneath the crystal cascade, every facet throwing light across my custom champagne gown like a thousand tiny cameras. The ring on my finger caught fire with each movement... a three carat promise that weighed more than I'd ever imagined. Around me, silk brushed against tuxedo wool. Laughter bubbled through the air like the Dom Pérignon being poured into coupes that cost more than my first car.

"You look like you might faint," my best friend Mara whispered, squeezing my elbow. Her perfume... jasmine and something expensive... wrapped around us both.

"I'm just..."

"Happy. Say you're happy." She grinned, but her eyes searched for mine.

My mother appeared at my other side, her fingers cool as she smoothed the cuff of my sleeve. "Stand straight, darling. The photographer from Vogue is here."

I straightened. Smiled. Let the moment wash over me like warm water.

This was it. This was everything I'd worked for, dreamed of, convinced myself I deserved. Aiden Cross, tech mogul, philanthropist, the man whose face graced Forbes covers and charity galas. And he'd chosen me. Plain Elara Sinclair from a two bedroom apartment in Queens, whose biggest accomplishment before meeting him was managing a non profit that barely kept its lights on.

The crowd shifted. I felt him before I saw him.

Aiden cut through the room like a knife through butter, his Tom Ford tux fitting him the way only custom tailoring could. Dark hair swept back. Jaw sharp enough to draw blood. When his eyes found mine, something in my chest unlocked.

He moved to the small stage where the string quartet had paused, taking the microphone from the stand. Every conversation died. Two hundred guests turned as one.

"Thank you all for being here tonight." His voice rolled through the speakers, smooth and commanding. "I'm not a man who believes in accidents. I believe in intention. In choice. In finding the one person who..."

He paused. His jaw tightened.

I followed his gaze across the ballroom and my stomach dropped.

Seraphina Vaughn stood framed in the arched doorway like a Renaissance painting. Ice blue gown that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. Blonde hair swept into an impossible updo. She smiled... that practiced smile that never quite reached her eyes but photographed beautifully.

Our eyes met across the room. Hers glittered with something cold and victorious.

I'd known Seraphina for three years. We sat on the same charity boards. Attended the same fundraisers. She donated wings to hospitals while I organized school supply drives. She smiled at me over champagne and told me how wonderful it was that Aiden had found someone so... refreshingly normal.

Every word had felt like a paper cut.

"The one person who makes you believe in forever," Aiden continued, but something had shifted in his voice. A tremor. Almost imperceptible.

Seraphina glided forward, positioning herself where every camera in the room could capture her profile. She lifted her champagne flute in a mock toast, that smile never wavering.

Then she stopped.

Her face went white. Porcelain white. The kind of white that makes you think of ghosts and hospital sheets.

The champagne flute slipped from her fingers.

It fell in slow motion... crystal shattering against marble with a sound like a scream. Champagne splashed across her Louboutins, across the hem of that perfect dress. The liquid caught the light, glittering like a thousand tiny diamonds.

She swayed.

"Seraphina..." someone gasped.

She collapsed.

It was beautiful, in a terrible way. Her body folded gracefully, as if she'd rehearsed it. One hand flew to her chest. Her eyes fluttered. She crumpled into a heap of silk and blonde hair and manufactured distress, right there in the center of the ballroom floor.

The room exploded into chaos.

Chairs scraped. Women shrieked. Someone dropped their plate and it crashed like thunder. The string quartet stopped mid note, the violin hanging in the air like a question no one could answer.

I couldn't move.

My heart hammered against my ribs... a wild thing trying to escape. The world narrowed to a pinpoint. Everything went quiet except for the sound of my own breathing, harsh and fast.

I reached for Aiden.

He was gone.

I watched... frozen, helpless... as he vaulted over the buffet table. Shrimp and caviar and delicate pastries scattered. He hit the floor running, his shoes sliding on the champagne soaked marble. He dropped to his knees beside Seraphina, gathering her into his arms like she was made of spun glass.

"Call 911!" someone shouted.

"Give her space!"

"Is she breathing?"

Aiden cradled her against his chest. His hand cupped her face. His thumb brushed her cheekbone with a tenderness that made my throat close.

"I'm here," he whispered. His voice cracked. "Stay with me. Just stay with me."

Those words.

Those exact words he'd said to me six months ago when I'd had the flu and thought I was dying. When he'd sat beside my bed all night with cold compresses and ginger tea.

I'm here. Stay with me.

He'd given them to her.

Phones lifted around the room. Dozens of them. Recording. Capturing. Uploading in real time to feeds and stories and gossip sites that would devour this like sharks in bloody water.

I stood in my champagne gown with my three carat ring catching light from the chandeliers, and I was invisible.

Aiden lifted Seraphina like she weighed nothing. Her head lolled against his shoulder. Her perfect hair spilled across his arm. He carried her toward the exit, moving fast, his face a mask of fear I'd never seen before.

Not even for me.

"Aiden..." I heard myself say. My voice sounded small. Distant.

He didn't turn.

He didn't look back.

He didn't say my name.

The crowd parted for him like the Red Sea. Mara grabbed my hand, squeezing so hard her nails bit into my palm. My mother made a small wounded sound.

I watched him disappear through the doorway, Seraphina cradled in his arms like a bride. Like something precious. Like the only thing in the world that mattered.

The ballroom door swung shut behind them.

Silence crashed down.

Then the whispers started. A rustling. A hissing. Like snakes in grass.

"Did you see..."

"Oh my God..."

"Poor Elara..."

"I always thought there was something between them..."

My phone vibrated against my hip. Once. Twice. Three times in rapid succession.

I pulled it out with shaking hands.

The screen glowed bright in the dimmed ballroom light. Notifications flooded in. I*******m. T*****r. F******k. Text messages from numbers I didn't recognize.

I tapped the first one.

A video loaded.

Aiden, carrying Seraphina through the ballroom. The camera caught everything... the way his hands held her. The intensity in his eyes. The whisper that the microphone just barely picked up.

Stay with me.

And there, in the corner of the frame... a smile.

Seraphina was smiling.

Just for a second. Just a flicker. But the camera caught it before her face went slack again.

The video had been uploaded two minutes ago. Already it had three thousand views. The comments were rolling in faster than I could read them.

Drama at the Cross engagement party...

Is this a love triangle...

Poor fiancée left at the altar...

My phone buzzed again.

Another video. This one from a different angle.

The upload icon spun at the top of the screen, that endless circle of loading and sharing and destroying everything I thought I knew.

I stood there frozen, my heart dropping to my stomach. Was this actually real? My mind wouldn't accept what my eyes were seeing. Everything blurred around me. The sounds faded. All I could hear was blood pounding in my ears.

I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. 

And that's when I realized: this was really happening.