Chapter 3

Lila hadn’t exaggerated. Her wedding was a spectacle—grand enough to outshine the one I’d had with Silas in my past life. The ballroom was overflowing, glittering with chandeliers, champagne, and guests that mattered. Even a state senator had come to offer his congratulations.

My own wedding hall sat at the opposite end of the corridor. Smaller. Quieter. But intimate in a way that mattered to me more.

When I asked Lucien if he wanted to invite anyone from his circle, his answer had been simple. “Invite whoever you want. As for me—only family. I don’t have many friends.”

That had struck something in me. Because I didn’t either.

So, in the end, only my closest girlfriends and Father were invited. He would watch me wed first, then hurry across the hall to watch Lila’s grand affair.

I expected my wedding to feel small, maybe even lonely. Instead, it was nothing I imagined.

The Blackwells weren’t cold, calculating, or arrogant like my father, nor shallow and preening like Lila. They were warm. Welcoming. Gentle, just like Lucien. And somehow, what should have been plain felt cozy. Real. Happy.

When the officiant’s voice rang out—“Take Seraphina Dusk as your loyal wife, to never abandon her, to support her in poor or rich. Mr. Blackwell, you may kiss your bride”—I braced myself.

Lucien leaned in, close enough that I felt my heart stumble and my cheeks heat. His breath brushed mine. “May I?” he whispered.

I nodded. He kissed me lightly, reverently, as if I were something precious.

…

“Have you packed already?” Lucien asked later as he drove me back to the Dusk mansion. We had agreed I would move out today.

“Yes, just a few boxes. I don’t own much,” I said with a small smile.

But when we pulled into the driveway, we ran straight into Lila and Silas.

“Honey,” Lila said, her voice dripping with false sweetness as she leaned into Silas’s arm, “this is my stepsister and her… husband.”

Her gaze slid to Lucien, and she gave a cruel little laugh. “Have you heard of the Blackwells? This is that Blackwell—the one who went poor. Couldn’t even afford to buy my sister a wedding dress. Honestly, I feel sorry for them. Maybe we should give them some of our money. As charity.”

The insult burned hotter than any she’d thrown before. She wasn’t sneering at just me anymore—she was sneering at Lucien.

I stepped forward, seized her wrist, and yanked her around. “Apologize.”

She jerked, trying to pull free. “Get off me. I’m only telling the truth.”

“I said—apologize.” My voice came out sharper than steel. Fury flared hot and unrelenting. “You’ve crossed a line, Lila. My husband and I are not yours to mock.”

Her eyes widened, panic flickering beneath the bravado. “How dare you? Which part did I say wrong? That the Blackwells are broke? Or that he couldn’t afford your dress?”

“I won’t ask again.” My grip tightened on her wrist. “Apologize to Lucien. Now.”

“Miss Dusk.” Silas finally stepped in, voice smooth, his tone that of a mafia king who always played diplomat. “If my wife has offended you in any way, then please—allow me to apologize on her behalf.”

I smiled, releasing Lila at last. “Okay.”

Silas’s practiced expression froze. “What?”

“You said you’d apologize on her behalf,” I said calmly, my voice steady. “So go ahead. Apologize to my husband.”

Silas hadn’t expected that. His smile faltered, stretching into something stiff, unnatural. Still, he turned to Lucien. “Sorry. My wife spoke out of turn. Since you and I are brothers-in-law now, surely you won’t hold it against her. She’s… straightforward.”

“Understood,” Lucien replied, his arm tightening protectively around my waist. His voice was smooth but edged with steel. “But let’s hope we never hear words like that from Mrs. Vane again.”

Lila’s face burned with fury, but I didn’t miss the flicker in her eyes—the quick, wary glance she gave Silas, like she was afraid of him.