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Chapter 4

Author: Lyra Vesta
Outside, the countdown had begun.

“Five minutes!”

“Everyone, get ready!”

Dante stood.

At the door, he glanced back at me.

“Wipe off the rest of the frosting. I’ll be waiting for you at the altar.”

The hall was already full, and my mother was texting me.

Sweetheart, it’s almost time. Are you nervous?

I cried a little earlier. Your dad laughed at me.

Take your time walking down the aisle. Don’t trip.

It was when I read those messages that I realized I would never go home again.

That morning, Mom had stopped me at the door to straighten my veil. While she fussed over me, Dad drew Dante aside.

“I know what your family is capable of. But she’s my daughter. If you hurt her, I won’t look the other way.”

Dante hadn’t flinched. He’d reached for my hand.

“You won’t have to. I’ll take care of her.”

Dad had looked at him for a long moment before nodding.

None of them could have imagined that, just a few hours later, their daughter’s wedding would become her funeral.

Three minutes to go.

Tessa rushed in with a fresh bouquet.

The original had been ruined by the cake.

Dante had made the florist prepare another one. He’d even remembered that I found lilies too strong and wanted only white roses.

Tessa tossed the flowers onto my lap and gave a bitter little laugh.

“After all this, he still gets you new flowers.”

“Isabella, you really are lucky.”

Marco checked the time.

“Let’s go. The wedding party needs to get into position.”

At last, the three of them left.

Before stepping out, Tessa dragged a fan over, aimed it at me, and turned it up to full speed.

“Still won’t fix your makeup? Fine. Keep pretending.”

“Let Don-Don stand up there alone and embarrass himself.”

“We’ll see how long you keep this up.”

The wedding march began. I had chosen the music myself.

At the rehearsal, I’d complained that the introduction was too long.

Dante had slipped an arm around my waist and laughed.

“Good.”

“I want more time to watch you walk toward me.”

Now he was standing at the altar.

But I wasn’t coming.

The officiant lifted the microphone with a smile.

“Please join me in welcoming our beautiful bride…”

“Isabella Cross!”

Applause filled the hall. Every guest turned toward the end of the aisle.

Ten seconds.

Twenty.

No one appeared.

The applause slowly faded.

The officiant’s smile grew strained.

“It seems our bride needs another moment.”

A few guests laughed kindly. Only my mother kept turning to look behind her.

She took out her phone and called me.

Back in the dressing room, my phone buzzed again and again.

Mom.

No one answered.

At the altar, Dante took out his own phone and texted me.

Come out.

A few seconds later, another message arrived.

Isabella, stop this.

I stared at those words.

Even now, he thought I was throwing a tantrum.

Hundreds of eyes were fixed on Dante.

The friends and relatives who had come to celebrate our wedding began to whisper.

Tessa spread her hands as if to say, See? She’s doing it on purpose.

Dante’s expression darkened. He turned and left the altar.

His footsteps grew louder in the hallway.

Then the door burst open with a bang.

“Isabella, we’re already late. Stop being childish.”

But I still didn’t respond. He finally lost his temper.

He rushed over and hauled me to my feet.

“Isabella!”

“This wedding is happening today, whether you like it or not!”

My veil came loose as he pulled me up.

The fan caught it, blowing it from my head. As it slipped past my face, it brushed away the dried frosting covering my left eye.

A clear, rigid rod protruded from the corner of my eye.
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