CHAPTER 1

SCARLET

On the 5th of July, 2014, Scarlet Lawson died holding white roses.

“Where is he?”

The priest’s eyes held an impatience that didn’t mirror the calm words that had left him. I turned to the church doors, a part of me hoping he’d miraculously never come through. So that this whole charade would get cancelled and I wouldn’t have to go through with it. 

Hope was a fickle thing, but was it so bad holding on to it now? 

“He should be here anytime soon.” 

My stepmother had gotten out of her seat in the front row and was now standing a small breath away from the altar.

I bit my lip when she continued to stare. 

I knew what that look meant, and it only made the silk lace gown feel heavier.

For some reason, my eyes wandered to the placard that stood at the far end of the room. Vivian weds Julian.

A cold hand slid over mine as my stepmom leaned forward, in what looked like affection. I knew it wasn’t. She never really gave a damn if I was alive or not. Not until now.

“No mistakes, Scarlet.” She sneered. “Understood?”

My chest tightened, a wave of nausea crawling up my throat. But I nodded despite it. 

Because to every single one of the wedding guests here, I was Vivian Lawson, the woman who would be getting married to one of their own.

My stepmother began to make a show of smoothing down my wedding gown, but I couldn’t even look. Now and then, I’d glance at the guests behind me, all eagerly watching and waiting for a splendid wedding.

Slowly, my stepmother stepped back to admire her work. Her eyes glinted with something I couldn’t put my finger on. “Oh, my beautiful Vivian.”

My skin felt clammy at her words; the urge to hurl the contents of my stomach at her clawed at my throat.

“I’m not Vivian,” I wanted to scream out.

But no one here could know that.

To any other person, we could pass off as twins if you put us side by side. But I wasn’t anything like her.

She was supposed to be here. Not me. 

How I wish he wouldn’t come. 

The thought of him alone sent a wave of dread down my spine. If the stories were true, then I’d be stuck with a paraplegic for the rest of my life. A monster, if I can call him that. Every single one of my senses screamed at me to run away from this sham of a marriage before that could happen.

I turned to my stepmother sharply. “Mother.”

She must have noticed the look in my eyes, as her expression soured. “Vivian.”

I can’t do this. I just can’t.

“Mother, I am afraid I have been jilted at the altar. We should just wrap up and go home.”

She took in a shaky breath and reached out for my hand. To the untrained eye, it seemed like an affectionate gesture. But I had to stay inhumanly calm even as her nails subtly dug into my skin.

“He’ll be here, darling. You have nothing to worry about.”

I turned back to the guests who were all eagerly watching in anticipation. Memories of what happened the night before hit my mind. 

“Would you rather have your father dead?”

My stepmother’s sharp glare found me. I knew what that look meant. I couldn’t run. Not even if I tried to.

Julian Cross’ proposal two weeks ago had been the silver lining we had been praying for. My father’s illness had reached a fatal stage. If I wanted him to survive, I had no other choice than to comply with my stepmother’s demands, which were to get married to him in place of my stepsister.

They were counting on me to play the part well. To play Vivian. The perfect, obedient wife.

I shook my head. “I can’t.”

My mother glared. “Vivian, you—”

“I can’t!” I insisted, tears blurring my vision as I took a shaky step back. “I’m not doing this. I can’t—”

The door swung open before I could finish my words. Every whisper hushed into silence as the silhouette walked in.

For a moment, I wasn’t sure I could breathe.

“He’s here.” My mother’s words somehow reached my ears.

The man who walked in was not disabled. He wasn’t in a wheelchair. And he was not the monster I’d been made to believe. 

I simply stood in shock as he made his way to the altar with the aura of someone who didn’t have to waver. 

He stopped in front of me, eyes briefly holding my gaze. His dark hair glistened effortlessly, steel eyes holding an obvious disinterest. 

Every other man in the room paled in comparison to him; a man who looked like the embodiment of Adonis himself.

When he stepped closer, a glint of something unreadable echoed behind his eyes. “It would seem my bride isn’t eager to marry me.”

My breath hitched. He wasn’t smiling, and something about his words made my stomach churn. In silence, he turned to the priest and sent him a nod.

The man awkwardly took his place at the podium and began. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today, for a most beautiful union…”

I wanted to run. As far away as I could from a man as beautiful and dangerous as this. A man who would soon be my husband. But there was no way I could run now. He was already right here in front of me.

The priest presented the rings and turned to me. “Do you, Vivian Lawson, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

My stomach fluttered when Julian glanced at me. Cold enough to thaw away at my act. I nodded, my voice cracking a little.

“I do.”

I looked up at Julian. He looked almost bored as the priest recited the vow to him. “I do.”

Almost like he was signing some contract. There was no emotion or hesitation from him. The officiant smiled and held out his hands to both of us. “You may now kiss the bride.”

Wordlessly, Julian pulled my waist in, my body now dangerously close to his. I could feel his warmth, feel the tension radiating off both of us. 

His eyes furrowed a bit, and my heart did a painful backflip. Had he noticed that I wasn’t Vivian? 

For a moment I thought he would say something. Instead, he leaned forward, pressing his lips against mine. A chaste kiss. But one that had an astounding effect nonetheless.

The whole room erupted into loud applause. I started to lean back, but he pressed me closer, threading his fingers through my carefully styled hair.

A small gasp of surprise left me, but that was quickly drowned out when he slid his tongue into mine.

It might have seemed sweet, but I knew it wasn’t meant to be anything but possessive. 

He pulled away, ignoring the deafening cheers from the people in the cathedral. I was dazed, my finger subconsciously moving to my lips.

My first kiss.

He turned to the crowd, sending them one clean wave and a perfect smile for the cameras. I simply stood there while he exchanged some pleasantries with the priest. 

When he turned to me again, my stomach did a little flip. His grip on my waist was tighter this time as he pulled me closer, his mouth dangerously close to my ears.

“Quite the actress, Scarlet.”

My blood went cold. Dread crept up my spine as I turned to him. His smile was chiseled, perfect for the cameras focused on us.

“I asked for your sister. Not you.”

He knew the truth.  

How did he know?