Chapter 2

Clara

The next three days crawled by at a torturous pace, each one feeling longer than the last. Within that time, every foundation I held seemed to crumble under my feet.

Just as my father dictated, I'd effectively lost my job and any modicum of agency I had, forced to stay at home and prepare for the wedding. Under my mother's thumb and constant supervision, my movements were limited to the confines of my room as she arranged everything.

On the first day of preparations, she'd grabbed my chin so tightly it hurt.

“From now on, you'll use Nessa's name and identity.” She'd murmured.

“Don't take it lightly. Under no account should you expose yourself.  If the Damianis find out about this, not just you, but the entire family business will be implicated. Do you understand?”

“Yes Mother.” I'd replied back then. The look I must have given must have satisfied her enough.

Afterwards she remained, arranging every detail alongside giving constant warnings and instructions that remained along the same lines.

“Keep your head down. Know your place there.”

“If they mistreat you, bear it. Don't anger him, or face the consequences yourself.”

“Don't embarrass us.”

The last was the sole constant drilled into me. Every word sank in bitterly even as I remained silent and nodded to each one.

I had questions I tried asking, but any attempt I had to ask further was met with glares and contemptuous words to not overstep. In an agonizing time filled with only thoughts, three days passed.

And now?

I took a deep breath, looking at myself in the full length mirror. Gazing at my reflection, I could still hear my mother's words from earlier.

“You look close enough to her, you too are sisters after all. Unfortunately, there's no way to make yourself look younger or vibrant. But we'll have to try.” she'd said.

Her ‘trying’ in this case meant heavy makeup covering most of my imperfections, including the faint freckles I held.

My jet black curls were pinned up, leaving only two defined curls to frame my face. Despite my mother claiming that they wouldn't recognize Nessa anyways, she still attempted to take the initiative to dye my hair to match Nessa's lighter brunette tone just ‘to be safe’. It was at my insistence that she'd given up. That, perhaps, was the only mercy I was given.

I wore a white shimmering dress, complete with lace gloves. The bridal dress which was originally Nessa's size was fitted to my lithe, less curvy frame. Had it not been for maintaining the illusion of me being the precious daughter, I knew they wouldn't have chosen it.

The sight made my throat tighten. Dark hair aside, I looked glaringly similar to Nessa, just like she wanted.

More importantly, I looked like a bride.

Night had already fallen. According to them, the Damianis had arranged the wedding to occur at midnight which was less than an hour from now. They were on their way to retrieve me for the wedding after which my parents would ‘send me off’.

Taking a deep breath, I fought to compose myself.

Inside, a completely different fear gripped me. A fear of what would come next.

Who was he? What did he look like? Was he willing in this marriage or equally forced? If he was as frightening and violent as others said, how would he treat me?

“Wow. Quite a look you've got there sis.”

I inhaled sharply, stiffening at the saccharine voice. Spinning around, I met Nessa leaning against the open doorway. Folding her arms, she leaned casually against the doorframe, looking me over from head to toe.

“I must say, you don't look half as bad as I expected, but honestly, I'm not surprised. You're good at collecting my leftovers.” She smirked.

“Why are you here?” I asked, even though I knew the answer. Her presence never spelled anything good. It was what made it surprising that she hadn't come around to taunt me over the past three days after that dinner but I welcomed it.

I wasn't keen on humoring her. Not now.

“Don’t sound so hostile, I just wanted to thank you.” She pouted, feigning surprise, but she wasn't fooling anyone. 

I knew that expression. I had known it since we were children. Only she could be cruel enough to make someone cry and then act completely innocent about it. My parents bought her every move.

“I heard he's really ugly and violent. Even has a scar. “Thanks to you accepting the marriage, I'd never have to suffer. You can deal with that yourself. You're probably going to be miserable.” She giggled, “But I suppose that fits your style. Mommy and daddy are so happy. They won't say it out loud, but they're so relieved from taking care of a burden like you. At least, you were good for something.”

My jaw clenched.

“Are you done?” I asked. She blinked, taken back.

“What?”

“I’m asking Nessa, are you finished?” I repeated “Because if that's all you came here for, you can leave.”

The smile on her face faltered for half a second.

I rarely spoke to her like that.  I had spent years learning how to endure her little games and her  ability to twist every situation until somehow I was the one at fault.

Perhaps, even now, I should have stayed silent. But today was different. Today, I was leaving this house to marry a stranger and for once, I was tired.

“I’m taking this responsibility on your behalf. Else you'd be the one here.” I said, taking a step forward. “So for once in your life, get over yourself. Nobody is a shield or your enemy. You have everything one could ask for. Aren't you tired of being so mindlessly shallow? Just this once, get over yourself and leave me alone.”

Her eyes were wide and for once she didn't report immediately. For a brief moment, I believed I'd gotten through to her, at least once. But then the shock on her face melted into a mirthful look.

“Or what?” Her eyes narrowed, a smirk growing in place."What are you going to do about it?”

I barely had time to reply when her gaze flickered to the door before she suddenly raised her hand toward her own face. 

Her head jerked to the side as she fell, followed by a loud scream.

The sound ripped through the room. In that same instant, the door my mother and father slipped inside.

“Nessa? Nessa!” my mother crouched to her crumpled form. I could only watch, stunned as she turned toward them, her hand pressed against her cheek with visible tears in her eyes.

“Mommy, daddy” she whimpered, her voice breaking,“Claire, she…”

The initial shock slipped away, followed by swift realisation of what she'd done. She was framing me.

“You.”

The low threatening tone made me turn blankly towards my father, seething. Before I could think, he'd stormed towards me and grasped my wrists tightly, his face full of rage.

“How dare you.” He growled, “You dared to slap Nessa on the day of her sister's wedding, no less.”

My wedding, I thought blankly, not hers. But I knew he didn't care.

 The pain from his tight grip brought tears to my eyes which I struggled to fight back.

“I didn't do anything.” I said. It was all I could muster. A simple plea. But I knew it wouldn't work.

Nessa was their precious daughter. The golden child and the perfect little angel.

Unlike her, I didn't know how to cry on command, point fingers or perform innocence. It wouldn't work, even if I tried.

How could my dull, simple words, compare to her act?

Without thinking, my gaze travelled through the small gap left. From it, I saw my mother holding Nessa, her head lowered. Nessa on the other hand was looking straight at me, the faintest hint of a smile curling on her lips.

‘I won.’ she seemed to say.

“You bitch.” A sharp tug forced me back to meet my father's wrathful gaze, “You should be grateful we've tolerated you for all these years, but you've decided to push your luck today.”

“John, wait,” my mother's voice cried out, and I knew before she continued that it wasn't for my sake. “the wedding procession. They could be here any moment.”

“They aren't here now. There's still enough time to teach her a lesson.” He sneered, raising his hand. My heart sank as I realized in that split second.

He was going to hit me.

The realization sent a cold wave through my body.

My parents didn't treat me well and I knew it. They had been neglectful, disparaging at the worst of times, but had never once been so overly physical. 

I had seen him angry before. I had endured his harsh words, his disappointment, his cold silences.

But he had never raised his hand to me.

Not until now.

My body reacted before my mind could. I shut my eyes, bracing myself for the impact—

A loud car horn suddenly cut through the room.

Everyone froze, my father's hand stiff in midair. My breath hitched, an ominous feeling. Could it be?

A few seconds later knocking came. 

“Sir, Madam, the envoy of the Damiani Family is here for the bride.” The muffled voice of a servant confirmed my thoughts.

The color drained slightly from my father's face. At those words, the suffocating tension rose in me. 

It was time. 

My father looked back at me. His expression which carried unwillingness was completely averted. A second later, he released me, shoving me in the process.

“Fix yourself.” he snapped at me, straightening himself. Even as I stumbled and recovered, he paid no mind. 

I swallowed through the lump in my throat, blinking away the tears whilst straightening my dress. Suddenly, the previous conflict was forgotten.

In an almost twisted fashion, this arrangement saved me.

But what would come next?

When I looked up, my father was looking at me, his expression smoothed from all the anger from before. It was a perfect facade.

“Let's go.” he ordered, turning to my mother in agreement. 

Together we moved towards the entrance, with my mother and father in front whilst I followed behind them. Nessa, for what was the first time, was the one to be hidden away.

At the entrance to our mansion stood a sleek black car and beside it a man I already identified as a bodyguard. He was dressed entirely in black, his posture straight and expression unreadable.

We were the ones to come forward.

“It's so nice to meet you.” My father smiled at the man warmly. Almost deferential. “Thank you for coming on behalf of the Damianis. Is there anything that I could give you? Refreshments maybe?”

“No need.” The man said curtly, “We were instructed to bring Miss Hathaway directly to the estate. The sooner the better.”

“Oh, of course. Still, thank you. I hope you can take care of my dear daughter.” My father turned toward me and I fought to recoil at the softened look on his face. “She's very precious to me.”

He sounded affectionate, almost sentimental. 

It only served to churn more nausea in me. For Nessa's sake, they were willing to put on this act just to place me in the crossfire.

Swallowing back the bile, I let my gaze veer off to the side. A few servants were already loading my luggage into the car. Even those belongings were chosen by my mother. I had very little that belonged to me, and even those were left behind.

My jaw clenched and I looked away. Once that was done, the envoy led me towards the car only for my father to stop him

“Before you leave,” he said, “I'd like a last word with my Nessa.” 

The envoy stepped aside, while still looking at me softly, he leaned in.  The moment he was close enough however, his smile disappeared.

He leaned toward me, keeping his voice low enough that only I could hear.

“Don't forget who you're supposed to be,” he whispered menacingly, devoid of any of the feigned warmth from before. “You're doing this for the sake of our family. If anything happens, they won't spare you. Understood?”

I didn't respond, keeping my eyes lowered even as his words struck me harshly. He stepped away,  expression softening before he pulled away. Then, as if for the benefit of the Damiani envoy, he gently parted my shoulder.

“Take care of yourself, dear.”

If not for years of practice, I would have flinched. 

The man in the dark suit escorted me the rest of the way, leading me to the backseat. As the car drove off, I didn't bother looking towards the window.

The path throughout was quiet. I stayed silent all through, keeping my head down. The turmoil inside me swirled.

“Are you alright Madam?” a man's voice asked. I looked up for only a fraction of a moment to find the driver staring through the rearview mirror, with what looked like worry in his eyes.

No. That was just my imagination.

My heart tightened. I looked away without answering, glancing at the dark purple bruise on my skin peeking out through the gloves where I was grabbed. Without hesitation, I tucked the gloves properly, hiding it from sight.

The driver didn't say anything more. Maybe it was just perfunctory, or he didn't care that much. Neither mattered.

Because now, I was fully, utterly alone.