Chapter 2: The Walk Down the Aisle

The velvet curtain of the dressing room felt heavy as Aria pulled it shut. Her hands shook so violently that it took her three attempts to zip up the heavy silk dress. The gown fit her frame perfectly, a painful reminder that physically, she and Brianna were identical. But as she looked into the full-length mirror, the person staring back was a stranger.

​Her soft, expressive hazel eyes were wide with fear, devoid of Brianna’s usual arrogant spark. She quickly pulled the delicate lace veil over her head, letting the sheer fabric obscure her face. It was her only shield now.

​"Remember, Aria," her mother whispered frantically, adjusting the lace at her shoulders through the curtain. "Brianna is confident, demanding, and graceful. Do not speak unless spoken to, and keep your answers brief. Alexander is sharp. One wrong move, and he’ll rip us apart."

​Aria swallowed the lump of anxiety in her throat. "What if he asks about something private between them?"

​"Avoid it. Play the stressed bride," her stepfather cut in sharply, looking nervously toward the hallway. "Just get through the ceremony and the reception. We’re working on finding Brianna as we speak."

​Before Aria could process the weight of the lie she was stepping into, the suite door knocked twice—a firm, heavy cadence that signaled Alexander’s patience had run out.

​The grand doors of the hotel ballroom swung open. A sea of faces turned toward her—billionaires, politicians, high-society icons, and journalists with flashing cameras. The music swelled, a classic bridal march that sounded to Aria like a death toll.

​At the end of the long, flower-covered aisle stood Alexander Vance.

​He looked imposing in the dim, elegant lighting of the hall. Broad shoulders, a commanding posture, and a face carved from marble—utterly handsome, yet completely devoid of warmth. His piercing dark eyes never left her as she took her first hesitant step forward.

​Every footstep felt like walking on thin ice. Aria kept her gaze lowered, clutching the bouquet of white calla lilies until her knuckles turned pale. The whispers of the crowd buzzed in her ears like static, but all she could focus on was the looming presence of the man waiting at the altar.

​When she finally reached the altar, Alexander reached out. His fingers brushed against hers as he took her hand to guide her up the small step. His touch was warm, contrasting sharply with the cold dread pooling in her stomach. But as he squeezed her hand, his grip tightened just a fraction too much—a silent warning.

​"You took your time," Alexander murmured, his voice smooth and low, carrying only to her ears under the veil.

​"I... I apologize," Aria whispered back, her voice barely audible.

​Alexander tilted his head slightly, his sharp eyes narrowing behind the dark lace of her veil. "You apologize? That’s new. Usually, you’d be complaining about the air conditioning or the quality of the flowers."

​Aria’s heart skipped a dangerous beat. She had already made a mistake. Brianna never apologized to anyone.

​"I’m just overwhelmed, Alexander," she quickly corrected herself, trying to sound aloof, just as her mother instructed.

​The priest began the ceremony, his voice booming through the hall, but to Aria, the words sounded muffled, as if underwater. She stood stiffly, counting the seconds, terrified that a single movement would give her away.

​"Do you, Alexander Vance, take Brianna Sterling to be your lawful wedded wife?"

​"I do," Alexander answered without a second of hesitation, his voice steady and resolute.

​"And do you, Brianna Sterling, take Alexander Vance to be your lawful wedded husband?"

​Silence stretched over the altar. Aria felt the weight of hundreds of eyes on her back. She glanced up and met Alexander’s intense gaze. There was no escaping this. If she backed out now, her family would be ruined, and the wrath of the man standing before her would be unleashed.

​"I... I do," Aria said, her voice soft but clear.

​"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife," the priest declared with a smile. "You may kiss the bride."

​Aria froze.

​Alexander stepped closer, his tall frame blocking out the bright chandeliers above. He lifted his hands and slowly raised the lace veil, exposing her face to the light—and to him.

​His eyes locked onto hers with a sudden, dangerous intensity. Up close, Aria realized just how perceptive he was. He searched her face, his gaze lingering on the genuine fear in her eyes and the faint tremor of her lips.

​Instead of a polite, transactional kiss on the cheek, Alexander placed a hand firmly behind her waist, pulling her flush against his chest. He bent down, his lips brushing against hers in a deep, possessive kiss that sent a shockwave straight through her core.

​When he finally pulled back, his lips curled into a dark, knowing smile. He leaned in close to her ear, his hot breath brushing against her skin.

​"Congratulations, my lovely bride," Alexander whispered, his tone laced with a terrifying edge. "Now... let's see how long you can keep up this little game."