2. The wedding

Zara's POV

I am still standing in the hotel room when my father tells me I am going to marry Damon Veyron.

For a few seconds, I simply stare at him.

I keep waiting for him to laugh, to admit that this is some cruel attempt at controlling the situation, because surely he cannot be serious. Today is my wedding day. My wedding to Victor. Everything has been arranged for months, from the flowers and the reception to the dress waiting downstairs and the hundreds of people who have travelled here expecting to watch me become Victor Black's wife.

Instead, my father is looking at me as though the decision has already been made.

“You will marry Damon.”

“No.” The answer comes easily because there is nothing to think about.

My father doesn't even blink. “You don't have a choice.”

“I always have a choice.”

“Not today.”

The anger that has been sitting beneath my skin since I woke up finally breaks through. “You cannot seriously expect me to stand in front of everyone today and marry a man I have spent four years trying to stay away from.”

Damon is standing near the window, his arms folded across his chest, and from the expression on his face, he is about as pleased with this arrangement as I am.

He pushes away from the window and looks directly at my father. “Don't include me in whatever fantasy you've created where I'm suddenly grateful for this.”

Gideon turns toward him.

Damon's jaw is tight, and there is nothing uncertain about his voice when he speaks.

“I don't want to marry either of your daughters. I never wanted Arabella, and I sure as hell don't want Zara. I'd rather marry a fucking hyena than spend the rest of my life tied to either one of them. Zara is a pain in my ass, and Arabella is a spoiled, gold-digging princess who thinks the world owes her whatever she wants.”

Arabella's face turns white. “Damon!”

He looks at her without a trace of apology. “What?”

“You don't get to speak about me like that.”

“I just did.”

My mother immediately steps toward Arabella. “That's enough.”

“No,” Damon says, still watching my father. “We're all going to stop pretending this is some tragic love story because an arrangement changed. I didn't want Arabella. She didn't want me. She wanted Victor, and I had no interest in becoming her husband just because our families decided it would look good on paper.”

My eyes move toward Victor. He is standing near the door, and he hasn't said a word since I woke up.

I look at him for several seconds before I finally speak. “Victor?”

His eyes meet mine.

I am waiting for him to say something. Anything.

I want him to tell my father that this is insane. I want him to come to me and tell me that whatever happened between Damon and me last night doesn't change what we are. I want him to remind everyone in this room that I am his fiancée and that we are supposed to be married today.

Instead, his expression remains cold. “You're really asking me to fight for you after what I just walked in on?”

The words hit me harder than I expect. “What?”

His jaw tightens. “I saw you in that bed with him.”

I stare at him. “I don't know what happened.”

Victor gives a bitter laugh. “You don't know?”

“No.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“I expect you to believe me because I'm telling you the truth.”

He looks away for a moment, and when he looks back, the hurt in his eyes has turned into anger. “I walked into that room and found my fiancée in bed with another man.”

“I didn't know how I got there.”

“That doesn't change what I saw.”

“I wasn't with him because I wanted to be.”

Victor shakes his head. “I'm not going to stand here and pretend I didn't see it.”

My chest tightens. “Victor, I'm supposed to marry you today.”

“I know.”

“Then say something.”

“I am saying something.”

“No. You're standing there and letting them take me away from you.”

His expression hardens. “You already made your choice.”

“I did not choose this.”

“You were in his bed.”

“And I don't know how I got there!” My voice rises, but I don't care who hears me.

Victor looks at Damon. Damon hasn't moved.

He looks between the two of us, his expression grim, as though he knows this argument has nothing to do with him and yet somehow he has become the centre of it.

Victor looks back at me. “I caught my fiancée in bed with another man, Zara. What exactly do you expect me to say?”

“I expect you to know me.”

“I thought I did.”

The words hurt and I swallow hard. “You believe I would do this to you?”

He doesn't answer immediately and that is answer enough. I take a step toward him. “So that's it?”

“What else is there?”

“Us.”

“There is no us.”

I stare at him. The room suddenly feels strangely quiet despite the people standing around us.

My father watches without interfering. My mother watches Arabella. Arabella watches Victor and Victor watches me as though I am someone he no longer recognises.

I shake my head. “You don't even want to fight for me.”

Victor's face remains hard. “I caught you with another man. I'm not going to beg you to choose me after that.”

“I didn't ask you to beg.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I want you to believe me.”

He looks at me for a long moment. “I can't.”

The words leave me completely still. I have no idea what to say after that. I thought Victor loved me. I thought he knew me.

I thought, whatever happened last night, he would at least stand beside me and demand answers but instead, he has already decided what I am.

My father finally speaks. “Enough.”

I turn toward him. “No. Don't tell me enough. You have been standing there while he tears me apart, and now you want to stop the conversation?”

“This conversation is irrelevant.”

“It's my life.”

“It stopped being only your life when you brought this humiliation onto the family.”

I stare at him. “I brought it onto the family?”

His eyes harden. “You were found in a hotel room with Damon Veyron on the morning of your wedding to Victor. Do you understand what that means?”

“I understand what it looks like.”

“Then you understand why there is only one solution.”

I laugh bitterly. “Your solution is to marry Damon.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Gideon's expression changes. “If you refuse, I will make certain you understand exactly how serious I am.”

“I don't care what you threaten me with.”

He takes a step closer. “You should.”

Something in his voice makes me stop. He lowers his voice. “Theo.”

My anger falters. “Don't bring him into this.”

“I will bring him into it because you seem to have forgotten who has legal authority over him.”

“He's my brother.”

“He is my son.”

“You adopted him.”

“Exactly.” My father's eyes remain fixed on mine. “Which means legally I decide where he lives.”

My stomach twists. “What are you saying?”

“If you refuse to marry Damon, Theo goes back to an orphanage.”

I stare at him and for a second, I don't understand the words but then I do. “You wouldn't.”

“I would.”

My mother finally speaks, her voice calm and cold. “Your father is serious, Zara.”

I turn toward her. “He's three years old.”

“And he needs stability.”

“He has a home.”

“He has the home we gave him.” My father's voice cuts through hers. “And I can take that home away.”

I shake my head. “You can't do this.”

“I can.”

“You're threatening to send a three-year-old child back to an orphanage because I refuse to marry someone.”

“I am telling you what will happen if you refuse.”

My father steps closer.

“And I won't stop there. I can make sure he never returns to this house. I can arrange for him to be placed somewhere far away, somewhere with people who won't care that you want to see him. I can make sure the house he goes to is worse than the one he has now, and you will have no legal right to stop me.”

My blood runs cold. “Dad.” The word slips out before I can stop it.

He doesn't soften. “You wanted a choice. Now you have one.”

Damon's expression has changed. He looks at my father with open disgust. “You're threatening to put the kid in an orphanage?”

Gideon looks at him. “This is between me and my daughter.”

“No. Not anymore.” Damon's voice is low. “You're using a three-year-old to force her into a marriage.”

Gideon doesn't flinch. “And you are the man she will marry.”

Damon looks at me and dor once, there is no sarcasm in his expression. There is anger but not at me, at my father.

I don't know why that matters because it shouldn't but it does.

I look toward Theo's face in my mind, remembering his small hands reaching for me whenever the house becomes too loud, the way he follows me through the rooms, the way he curls against me when he is frightened.

I cannot let my father send him away. I cannot let him put Theo somewhere worse simply because I refused to obey.

I look back at Damon. He gives me a long, unreadable look. “I told you I don't want this,” he says quietly.

“I know.”

“And I meant it.”

“I know.”

His jaw tightens. “But if you're agreeing because of the boy, then understand something. I'm not going to pretend this is a love story.”

“I wouldn't want you to.”

“Good.”

My father looks between us. “Then it's settled.”

I turn on him. “No. It isn't settled. You may have forced my hand, but don't mistake that for forgiveness.”

“I don't need your forgiveness.”

Of course he doesn't. He needs my obedience and today, for Theo, I have no choice but to give him exactly what he wants.

My mother moves toward the door. “We need to get you ready.”

I look at her. “The wedding is already ready.”

“Yes.”

“With Victor.”

She hesitates. “With Damon.”

I turn away from her. I don't cry I won't give them that. I don't break down and I don't beg. I simply stand there and feel something inside me change.

Victor is no longer fighting for me. My father has threatened Theo and my mother is helping him. Arabella is standing quietly nearby, and when I look at her, I catch something in her expression that makes me uneasy. It is not sadness. There is something else there. Something almost satisfied.

She looks away before I can decide whether I really saw it.

I follow my mother from the room. The wedding is already waiting downstairs. The same flowers. The same guests. The same music. The same dress I chose when I believed I was walking toward a future with Victor.

Only the man at the altar will be different.

By the time I enter the ballroom, the conversations have already begun.

People look at me while some whisper and others pretend not to.

Gideon is near the front, speaking quietly to several guests while Celeste moves through the room with the polished smile she uses whenever she needs to convince people that everything is under control.

My parents remain there. They do not disappear. They do not leave me to face this alone.

They stay exactly where they want to be, watching the marriage they have forced into existence.

Damon waits at the altar. He looks as though he would rather be anywhere else.

I understand the feeling.

The music begins as I walk. The aisle seems longer than it ever did during the rehearsals.

I keep my head high and I don't look down. I don't let anyone see what is happening inside me.

When I reach the altar, my father takes my hand and places it in Damon's. His fingers close around mine.

I look at him and he looks back but neither of us smiles.

The officiant begins speaking. The words about love and commitment sound almost cruel under the circumstances.

Damon doesn't pretend and neither do I. When it is time for the vows, he says his with a steady voice.

I repeat mine. Every word feels like a decision I never made. Every promise feels like something being taken from me and still, I say them.

Because Theo is waiting somewhere in this hotel.

Because my father has made his threat.

Because there are some things I will sacrifice myself for, even when I hate the person forcing me to make the sacrifice.

I lift my eyes while the officiant continues. Across the room, Victor is standing beside Arabella. He isn't looking at me. He is looking at her.

For a moment, I think I am imagining it. Victor reaches down and his hand finds Arabella's.

Their fingers intertwine.

Arabella doesn't pull away. She looks at him, and the expression on her face is so different from the one she showed me upstairs that my stomach twists.

There is no heartbreak there and there is no devastation. There is only the quiet satisfaction of someone who has gotten exactly what she wanted.

Victor's thumb moves over the back of her hand.

He looks at her the way he used to look at me.

I feel something inside me crack, but I keep my face still.

So this is why he didn't fight for me.

This is why he stood there and told me he couldn't believe me.

This is why Arabella looked almost pleased when my father announced that I would marry Damon.

They already have each other.

My father is still watching the ceremony and my mother is watching me.

Damon is beside me and Victor is holding my sister's hand.

The officiant asks me to repeat the final part of my vows.

I look straight ahead. My voice doesn't shake. “I do.”

Damon says his answer beside me.

The officiant pronounces us husband and wife.

Applause rises around the room, but I barely hear it.

I am staring at Victor and Arabella. He still hasn't let go of her hand and in that moment, I understand that losing Victor is not the worst thing that happened to me today.

The worst thing is realising that the two people I trusted most were standing on opposite sides of the room while I was being forced into a marriage neither Damon nor I wanted.

They were not the ones losing something. They were the ones getting exactly what they wanted and I intend to find out why.