Chapter 2: Take Her Place

I did not sleep.

There was no way I could have.

For the rest of the night, I sat at the edge of my bed with Sophia's note folded between my fingers, listening to the sounds of the house.

A door opening downstairs.

Mother's footsteps crossing the hallway.

Father's office door closes sometime after two in the morning.

Then silence.

The kind that made every small noise noticeable.

At six thirty, I heard a car leave through the front gate.

I knew whose car it was without looking.

Father had gone to handle whatever problem Sophia's disappearance had created.

My problem, apparently.

I stood in front of the mirror and studied my reflection.

Same dark hair.

Same brown eyes.

The same face people had mistaken for Sophia’s since we were children.

But that was where the similarities ended.

Sophia smiled easily. I rarely did.

She knew how to make people comfortable. I knew how to make them talk.

She avoided confrontation.

I had spent years learning how to walk toward it.

And now my father wanted me to convince one of the most dangerous men in the city that I was my sister.

I almost laughed at the absurdity of it.

Almost.

A knock came at my door.

Mother entered carrying a garment bag.

I looked at it.

“No.”

She placed it on my bed.

“You have to try it.”

“I am not wearing that dress.”

“You have no choice.”

I turned toward her.

“There is always a choice.”

Her expression softened.

“Not this time.”

I looked away.

Mother had always been the gentler one between us. When Father became angry, she knew when to leave the room. When Sophia cried, she knew what to say. When I came home with bruised knuckles from training, she never asked too many questions.

But this morning, she looked like a woman who had already surrendered.

“Did Sophia tell you where she was going?”

Mother sat down slowly.

“No.”

“You are lying.”

Her eyes lifted to mine.

“She told me she was afraid.”

The words caught me off guard.

“Afraid of Lucien?”

“I do not know.”

“You do know something.”

She rubbed her hands together.

“Sophia came to me two nights ago. She was upset. She kept asking questions about the Moretti family.”

“What questions?”

“She wanted to know why your father agreed to the marriage so quickly. She wanted to know why Lucien had insisted on keeping certain parts of the agreement private.”

I frowned.

“Did she find something?”

Mother hesitated.

“I think so.”

“What?”

“I never saw it.”

That answer only gave me another question.

“What did she say?”

Mother looked toward the closed bedroom door.

“She said there was something wrong with the marriage.”

My eyes moved to the wedding dress.

“And you still expect me to go through with it?”

Her voice broke slightly.

“If you don't, your father will destroy everything.”

“He already is.”

She stood.

“Anastasia, listen to me. Your father has made arrangements. The Morettis are expecting Sophia. The guests have been invited. The church has been booked. The security teams are already in place.”

“I don't care.”

“You should.”

She opened the garment bag.

The dress inside was beautiful.

That was the worst part.

White silk fell almost to the floor, with tiny pearls sewn across the bodice and sleeves. A veil rested over the hanger.

Sophia had chosen it herself.

I knew because I remembered the afternoon she came home carrying photographs from the bridal shop.

She had stood in front of me, holding them against her chest.

“Do you think this one makes me look like a princess?”

I laughed.

“You look like someone who is about to bankrupt Father.”

She had thrown a pillow at me.

Now the dress hung silently between us.

Mother touched the sleeve.

“She wanted you to have this.”

I looked at her sharply.

“What?”

“She told me that if anything happened and she could not go through with the wedding, you should wear it.”

My stomach dropped.

“Sophia said that?”

Mother nodded.

“Why would she say something like that?”

“I don't know.”

I stepped closer to the dress.

For the first time, the situation felt different.

Sophia had not simply changed her mind.

She had prepared for the possibility that she would disappear.

She had left a note for me.

She had spoken to Mother.

She had packed her things.

And she had somehow made arrangements for the wedding dress to reach me.

I touched the sleeve.

Something hard was sewn beneath the lining.

I stopped.

“What's this?”

Mother frowned.

I turned the dress slightly and felt along the inside seam.

There was a small folded piece of paper hidden between the fabric.

I pulled it free.

Mother reached for my wrist.

“Don't.”

I looked at her.

“Why?”

She stared at the paper.

“I have never seen that.”

I opened it.

Only three words were written there.

Watch the Morettis.

No signature.

No explanation.

My mind started working through every possibility.

Sophia knew something.

She had been frightened.

And she had deliberately left warnings behind for me.

A car horn sounded outside.

Mother went pale.

“They are here.”

“Who?”

She did not answer.

I walked to the window.

Two black vehicles had stopped outside the house.

Men in dark suits stepped out.

Moretti security.

My pulse jumped.

“They came early.”

Mother picked up the veil.

“Your father wants you downstairs.”

I turned toward her.

“What happens if I refuse?”

She looked at me for a long moment.

“You already know.”

I did.

The threat from the previous night had been clear enough.

Someone I cared about would suffer.

I hated that Father knew exactly how to corner me.

I took the dress from Mother.

She looked surprised.

“I will do it.”

Her eyes filled with tears.

“Anastasia—”

“But I have conditions.”

She stared at me.

“I want access to Sophia's room. I want to know everything she knows about this marriage. And I want to know where she was going before she disappeared.”

Mother hesitated.

“I cannot promise that.”

“Then I cannot promise anything either.”

For several seconds, neither of us moved.

Finally, she nodded.

“I will try.”

I carried the dress into the bathroom.

When I came back out twenty minutes later, Mother was waiting.

She looked at me and covered her mouth.

I understood why.

The dress fit perfectly.

Too perfect.

For one strange second, I could almost imagine Sophia standing there instead of me.

Then I looked at myself in the mirror.

The woman staring back was not my sister.

She was me.

And if Lucien Moretti believed he was marrying Sophia Veyra today, he was about to learn how wrong he was.

I walked downstairs.

Father was waiting in the foyer with three men from the Moretti family.

One of them stepped forward.

His gaze moved over me without emotion.

“Mrs. Veyra?”

“Anastasia.”

His expression changed slightly.

Father spoke before he could ask anything.

“She is nervous.”

I said nothing.

The man looked at me again.

“Mr. Moretti is waiting.”

I glanced toward the door.

Outside, the black cars were ready.

My wedding day had arrived three days early.

And I was walking into it knowing the bride who was supposed to be there had run because she had discovered something.

Something dangerous enough to leave warnings behind.

Something connected to the man waiting for me.

I picked up my veil.

Then I walked outside.