Chapter two

I wish I’d run and hidden in the library toilet the moment I saw our massive chauffeur approaching. If I had, I wouldn't be doomed to the fate I have to accept in a few short hours.

I stood in my bathroom, staring at a box of hair dye that reeked of chemicals and ammonia. Outside the window, the elderly couple I’d come to see as my true parents were seated on their porch, waiting for the sun to rise. It was their morning ritual; sometimes I waited with them, sharing the peace of the dawn.

That quiet life would never be mine again. Staying away from them was the only way to keep them safe from the shadow now falling over me.

They noticed me and motioned for me to come over. When I tried to lift my legs, they felt like lead. Tears tracked down my cheeks. How was I supposed to tell them that in a few hours, I’d be someone else? That they’d never be allowed to see me again? No. I’d rather leave like a ghost and hope they remembered to take their medications on time.

I turned to the mirror. The dye burned my scalp as I worked it into my hair. The pain was sharp, but it was nothing compared to the ache tightening in my chest.

The blonde hair, the only outward difference I shared with Aria was gone.

Two hours later, I stood in my childhood home. I couldn’t believe I’d stepped into this house twice in one year. The same house I was banished from for the abominable crime of not getting straight A’s. My parents had been looking for an excuse to throw me out for a long time and they finally found a good one.

Unlike my last visit, the house was alive with chaos.

Maids scurried about, barking orders.

My father’s friends had arrived. I could hear celebratory gunshots outside, followed by triumphant screams and the annoying chatter of the elite.

My stomach churned as the head servant walked me to Aria’s room.

I hadn't been here in eight years.

Her room was five times the size of my apartment, and the interior was sickeningly luxurious. Everything was pink.

It was so bright I felt blinded. You’d think the owner was a girl with a heart of gold, but she was the opposite.

A little man who walked and talked like a prom queen sashayed into the room, followed by six women in matching pink outfits.

He grinned and leaned in for a hug. I artfully dodged him, offering my biggest fake smile instead.

I knew these were Aria’s people, but there were things I couldn't fake, like being comfortable when a stranger invaded my space.

The girls chattered and giggled as they dressed me in a wedding gown that felt heavier than anything I’d ever lifted at the library.

The corset was designed to snatch my breath; by the time the last lace was tied, I was gasping for air.

I was forced to join their "giggling contest" as they plastered layers of makeup on my face.

They painted my lips a blazing red. A sharp contrast to the nude shades I preferred. When they finished, the woman in the mirror wasn't Andrea the librarian.

It was Aria.

Everything after that was a blur. Only the tolling of the cathedral bells snapped me back to reality.

I stood before the gigantic oak doors. My father’s grip tightened around my wrist as he dragged me down the aisle.

I delayed every step, wishing I could turn this nightmare back into a fairytale. My sweaty palms clutched a bouquet of roses. I hated them.

Ironically, only Aria knew I preferred lilies.

Then I looked up.

Alexander Hawthorne stood at the altar like a monument carved from monstrous darkness.

He was so tall he made everyone else look insignificant.

His eyes held no warmth, only disgust.

The air grew thin as I reached him. He stood with the nonchalant air of a Victorian model, perfectly still.

My father’s hand left mine and was instantly replaced by Alexander’s grip.

Goosebumps erupted on my skin. He leaned in, his lips brushing my veil. The scent of bergamot and sandalwood surrounded me. Charming, yet lethal.

"The dress looks good on you," he whispered.

My breath hitched.

He didn't threaten me. He complimented me.

For a split second, I wondered if I’d made the right decision choosing this monster over my past.

I glanced toward my parents. Their smiles were tight. A silent warning not to slip.

Behind them, elite women stared at my gown with envy, unaware that I would trade it all to be the lowest-paid server standing at the back of the hall.

"Stop shaking so much," he said casually. "You're embarrassing me."

I hadn't even realized I was trembling. "It's not like I told my body to start shaking," I snapped.

The words left my mouth before I realized I was being sassy to the most dangerous man in the room.

His expression hardened, but he didn't speak. Instead, he smiled. It was a beautiful, sadistic expression.

“Do you, Alexander Hawthorne, take Aria Williams to be your lawfully wedded wife…”

“I do,” Alexander said.

His eyes promised a slow death, but as I looked back at him, I made a silent vow of my own. I wouldn't let him break me so easily.

"You may kiss your bride."

He leaned in slowly and claimed my lips in the most aggressive way they is.

I've always wanted my first kiss to be slow, sensual and romantic.

I couldn't believe I saved myself all these years to later have my virginity taken by a thug.

After the kiss we walked took a look at his wrist watch and walked away without saying a word to me.

Years of daydreaming about my wedding day and this is what I get.