The Missing Bride

{Isla’s POV}

The mark on my neck had faded to almost nothing by the time of the wedding, leaving behind only a thin silver line you’d only see if you knew what had happened. I still caught myself pressing my fingers against it some mornings, half expecting the ache would still be there. It was the one thing that reminded me of that night.

Richard had given me three weeks to find him, but four had passed with no sign of him. He felt like a ghost. I started to wonder if that night had been real at all.

If I told myself I wasn’t waiting for him. I was lying. Every morning I would look at my window. Expecting him to appear at the gate and ask for his mate.

No one ever came.

Maybe the mark was real, but the intention was fake. Maybe he never meant what he said.

On the morning of Cassandra's wedding, I donned a grey uniform and helped the catering staff carry linens into the east hall. I wasn’t there as a guest or as a family; I was just another set of hands to be used and forgotten by evening. The distance between the Hawthornes and me felt impossible, especially on this day meant for the family.

I’d stopped being surprised by that a long time ago; if anything, I preferred it.

Ever since my mother died and Cassandra and her mother moved in, my life had always been like this. Cassandra was not kind; she never had been, not once in the few years I’d known her, though she was good at pretending to be someone she was not.

She’d built a version of herself for the outside world so convincing that anyone who knew the Hawthornes saw her as the golden girl. But she would spread rumors and let me carry them.

She was the one who broke things, but I would somehow get punished for it, because Vanessa made sure of it. Richard always turned a blind eye and never thought about why disaster followed Cassandra everywhere, and yet somehow only ever left a mark on my name.

As a child, I used to think that if I was simply good enough, patient, smart enough, quiet, someone would finally notice the difference between what she did and what I was blamed for. I stopped believing that the same time I stopped expecting anyone to defend me.

So no, Cassandra and I did not speak. We have not had an actual conversation since she moved in with her mom, not ever. There was nothing left between us to say.

I was folding linens in the east hall when Richard found me.

He didn’t look at the uniform; he didn’t care. This was the first time since that night he ever looked at me. “Go find your sister. She isn’t answering anyone, and the ceremony starts in an hour.”

“Why me?” I asked with a puzzled expression on my face.

“Because I’m telling you to.” His tone sounded rough. “Now!”

When I reached Cassandra’s room, it was empty.

Not in her normal way.

Her gown hung untouched on its stand, as if it had never been touched, but I was sure I saw her fully dressed an hour ago. Her shoes sat by the door, and her jewelry lay exactly where it was arranged in the morning. I know because I was the one who dressed her, but not one single object in that room gave any indication that she had ever been there at all.

I checked the bathrooms and the hallways. I called out her name. Nothing. Then real panic started to settle in because if I didn’t find Cassandra, I knew exactly how this day would end.

By the time I found Richard again, half the house already knew there was a problem, and they all looked at me like I was the cause of it.

“She gone,” I said. “Her room, everything’s still there, but she isn’t.”

I watched something in his expression immediately and gave away what looked like fear. And it made me wonder what exactly Axel had on him. Vanessa arrived seconds later, not looking worried for someone whose child is supposedly missing. And the first thing that came out of her mouth was not where her child might be.

“What did you do?” she demanded, pointing directly at me.

“Nothing. I went to find her, and she was already gone.” I said.

“You were the last one sent to her room.”

“Because you sent me to check on her, the same way you sent me to go to the Masquerade.”

Richard's face had lost color; he was not even paying attention to what Vanessa and I were saying. “This cannot be happening. This cannot be cancelled. Not today. Not with everything on the line.” He whispered.

That's when I realized where this was going. “No.” I blurted out before Vanessa said it out loud.

“Isla takes her place.”

“Absolutely not. This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” I said.

“So, you are accusing me of kidnapping my daughter.”

“I am not marrying a stranger,” I said.

“You have no choice in this matter.” Richard stepped closer. “Seize this one chance to prove your worth in this family, or you’ll remain a disappointment. To me, you’re nothing but a bastard. Cassandra, on the other hand, embodies everything a daughter should be. Honestly, I wish you had perished alongside your mother…” Richard’s voice trailed off, but I couldn’t focus on his words any longer.

I stood frozen in the caterer uniform, the word “useless” echoing relentlessly in my mind. I felt utterly drained, as if every ounce of energy had been stripped away. My father had never shown me a shred of affection, not before Vanessa, and certainly not now. And the idea of belonging with someone I’d never met suddenly sounded more like a relief than a punishment.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll do it.”

Richard didn’t smile; he showed no bit of gratitude. He just signaled staff, and I was led to the same room Cassandra had changed. They stripped me out of my uniform, and once again I wore Cassandra's dress, but this time not to pretend to be her.

Nobody asked if I was ready. Nobody asked how I felt.

The aisle felt longer for a wedding that was supposed to be private. I kept my eyes down, on my own hands. The veil covered my face, covered in dirt, and I could feel eyes staring at me with disgust.

My head was still lowered even when I reached the altar.

“Where is Cassandra?” a man beside me asked.

I knew that voice.

I had heard it in my dream.

That was the same voice that promised me…

My hands tightened around the bouquet. “No, it couldn’t be,” I whispered.

I finally looked up. It was him, the stranger from the other night. The same black hair, the scar cutting through one eyebrow. The same eyes that had once watched me across the garden while I almost drowned. He was Alpha Axel Blackwood. My mate was my sister’s fiancé.