THE BILLIONAIRE'S VOW MISTAKE

Elena's POV.

The needle slipped, drawing blood from my fingertip. I watched the crimson drop stain the white silk, spreading like guilt across perfection. Tomorrow, this dress would walk down the aisle. Tomorrow, my sister would become Mrs. Alexander Thorne.

"Careful, Elena." Mother's voice cut through the workshop's silence. "We can't afford mistakes."

I pressed tissue to the wound, hiding the evidence. "It's just a small tear. I can fix it."

"You always can." She stood in the doorway of my Azure Loft studio, her designer heels clicking against the concrete floor. Everything about Evelyn Westvale screamed old money—except for the worry lines creasing her forehead. "That's why I came to you instead of hiring someone else."

The wedding dress hung before me like a ghost. Layers of imported French lace, hand-sewn pearls, a train that would photograph beautifully cascading down the Crystal Ballroom's marble steps. Six months of work. Six months of stitching my sister's dreams while mine gathered dust in the corner.

"Where is Vivian?" I asked, threading a new needle. "Shouldn't she be here for the final fitting?"

Mother's reflection wavered in the workshop's mirrors. "She's... handling other preparations."

"The bachelorette party ended two days ago."

"Elena." Her tone carried warning. "Your sister has responsibilities you don't understand."

I understood more than she thought. I understood that Vivian lived in spotlights while I worked in shadows. I understood that tomorrow's marriage would save our family's crumbling empire while binding her to a man she'd never loved. I understood that Alexander Thorne—brilliant, ruthless, untouchable—would never look at me the way I'd dreamed since we were eighteen.

But I also understood something else. Something that made my hands shake as I worked.

This dress fit me perfectly.

"The measurements are exact," I said carefully. "I made sure."

"Of course they are. You and Vivian are identical."

Identical. The word tasted bitter. We shared the same face, the same height, the same genetic lottery ticket that had made Vivian the family's golden girl. But where she blazed, I flickered. Where she demanded, I whispered. Where she took, I gave.

The workshop's phone rang. Mother answered with practiced grace. "Evelyn Westvale speaking."

I continued stitching, listening to her half of the conversation. Catering confirmations. Floral arrangements. Media coordination. Tomorrow would be Luminance City's wedding of the decade. The merger of two dynasties. The salvation of ours.

"That was the venue coordinator," Mother said, hanging up. "Everything's on schedule."

"And Vivian?"

"Will be ready." She moved closer, studying my work. "You've outdone yourself, darling. This dress will be in magazines for years."

Pride warmed my chest, then cooled just as quickly. The dress would be famous, but no one would know I'd created it. Like everything else I'd given this family, it would disappear into Vivian's story.

"Mother." I set down my needle, gathering courage. "What if she changes her mind?"

The question hung between us like smoke. Mother's reflection in the mirror went very still.

"What do you mean?"

"She doesn't love him. Alexander Thorne is... he's not exactly warm. What if she can't go through with it?"

"She will." The words came out sharp, final. "She has to."

I thought of the financial documents I'd accidentally seen last month. The mounting debts. The creditors circling like vultures. Westvale Fashion hadn't just been struggling—it had been dying. This marriage wasn't just about love or legacy.

It was about survival.

"Besides," Mother continued, her voice softening with something that might have been regret, "it's too late for changes. The contracts are signed. The media is watching. The future of this family depends on tomorrow going perfectly."

I nodded, returning to my stitching. But my mind wandered to stolen moments over the years. Charity galas where Alexander's dark eyes had found mine across crowded rooms. Business dinners where his conversations with Vivian had felt forced, performative. Board meetings where he'd listened to my quiet suggestions with surprising attention.

Foolish dreams. Pretty fantasies. Alexander Thorne belonged to a world of power and precision. He needed someone who could match his intensity, navigate his empire, stand beside him in the spotlight.

He needed Vivian.

Not her shadow.

The dress was finished. I hung it carefully, each fold perfect. Tomorrow it would transform my sister into a bride. Tomorrow she would promise forever to the man I'd loved in silence for seven years.

"It's beautiful," Mother said. "You have a gift, Elena."

"Thank you."

She kissed my forehead, leaving behind the scent of expensive perfume and desperate hope. "Get some rest. Tomorrow will be... significant for all of us."

After she left, I stood alone with the dress. In the workshop's dim lighting, it looked like trapped starlight. I reached out, touching the silk with reverent fingers.

For just a moment, I let myself imagine.

Walking down the aisle. Alexander's eyes widening with recognition, with want. Vows spoken in my voice, not an imitation of hers. A future where I wasn't the shadow twin, the spare daughter, the one who watched from the wings while life happened to someone else.

My phone buzzed. A text from Marcus, my friend and the only person who knew about my feelings for Alexander: *"You okay? Tomorrow's going to be hard."*

I typed back: *"I'll survive. I always do."*

*"Elena... you deserve better than living in her shadow."*

I stared at the message, then at the dress, then at my reflection in the darkened window. Three versions of the same truth: I would always be second.

But as I locked up the workshop and headed home, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was shifting. The city lights blurred past as I walked, each step carrying me closer to tomorrow. Closer to watching the man I loved marry my sister. Closer to a future that felt like a door closing forever.

I had no idea that in twelve hours, my phone would ring.

And everything would change.