CHAPTER 3

AMARA

A week had passed since my father told me that I was going to marry Tristan Westbrook, and somehow, the idea still felt strange every time I thought about it. I had spent the entire week trying to convince myself that there was a logical reason for everything that had happened, but no matter how many times I went over the situation in my head, I always ended up with the same conclusion. I was getting married because Selene did not want to.

That was probably the part that bothered me the most.

I was sitting in front of the vanity mirror while a makeup artist worked on my face. I had barely spoken since she arrived because I was not in the mood to pretend that I was excited. Around me were several people preparing for the wedding, moving between the room and the hallway, checking dresses, fixing accessories, and making sure everything was ready. Everyone seemed busy and cheerful, while I could only sit there and watch my reflection.

The makeup artist carefully applied foundation around my cheekbones before stepping back to look at her work.

“Would you like a little more blush, Miss Bellrose?”

I looked at myself in the mirror.

“No, that's fine.”

She nodded and continued working.

I tried to focus on the reflection in front of me, but my thoughts kept returning to the same question. What kind of man was Tristan Westbrook? I had heard his name countless times because of his family's company, but I had never actually met him. My father had told me that he was responsible, successful, and respected in the business world, but none of those things told me what he was like as a person.

I was still thinking about it when the door opened.

Selene walked into the makeup room wearing a silk robe. She had already had her hair done, and her makeup was finished. She looked completely relaxed, which was almost irritating considering that I was the one getting married.

She stopped behind me and looked at my reflection through the mirror.

“You look so serious.”

I gave her a brief glance.

“I'm getting married today. I'm allowed to be serious.”

She smiled and walked closer.

“I suppose you are. I just didn't expect you to look this unhappy.”

I looked back at the mirror.

“I'm not exactly marrying someone because I asked to.”

Selene pulled a chair beside me and sat down.

“I know. I'm sorry about that.”

I could hear the amusement in her voice, and it immediately made me suspicious.

“You don't sound sorry.”

She laughed softly.

“Maybe because I don't really know what I'm supposed to apologize for. I told Father that I didn't want to marry Tristan, and he found another solution. You happened to be the solution.”

“That is one way to describe it.”

Selene studied my reflection for a moment.

“You know, Amara, I never wanted things to become awkward between us. We are sisters now, even if we're not related by blood, and I don't want you thinking that I did this because I wanted to hurt you.”

“Then why did you come here?”

“I wanted to wish you good luck.”

“You could have done that from downstairs.”

“I could have, but I thought you might need someone to talk to.”

I almost laughed.

“Since when have you been concerned about my feelings?”

Selene's smile faded slightly.

“I am concerned. I just don't think you like hearing what I have to say.”

“That has never stopped you before.”

She crossed one leg over the other.

“You know what I think? I think you're making this harder than it needs to be. You are marrying Tristan Westbrook, Amara. Most women would be excited if they were in your position.”

“Most women aren't being married because another woman rejected the groom.”

“That isn't my fault.”

“I didn't say it was.”

“You are making it sound like I deliberately handed Tristan over to you.”

“Didn't you?”

“No. I simply refused to marry a man I didn't love. I had Chris, and at that time, I believed I was happy with him.”

I gave her a small smile.

“And now?”

She paused.

“Now I know Chris wasn't the man I thought he was.”

“I heard.”

“Of course you did. Everyone in this house heard about it.”

I turned my attention back to the makeup artist, who was carefully working on my eyes.

“I just wish you would stop acting as though you won something because Father chose you.”

“I don't think I won anything.”

“Really? Because you are getting everything that I was supposed to have. You are going to live in the Westbrook mansion, become Tristan's wife, and have access to everything that comes with his family. You will be introduced to everyone as Mrs. Westbrook. Do you really expect me to believe that doesn't make you happy?”

“I don't care about the mansion or the name. If I did, I would have been trying to marry Tristan long before you rejected him.”

Selene's expression tightened.

“You always say things like that, but you know very well that being a Westbrook would change your life.”

“My life is already changing, and I didn't ask for it.”

She leaned closer.

“You should at least be grateful to me.”

I frowned.

“For what?”

“For giving you this opportunity.”

I stared at her for a few seconds.

“That is probably the most ridiculous thing you've said all morning.”

“You really haven't changed. You always think you're better than everyone because you don't care about money.”

“I never said I was better than you.”

“You don't have to say it. You act like it.”

I turned slightly toward her.

“Selene, if you want to be angry because you're no longer marrying Tristan, that's your choice. But don't come into my room on my wedding day and expect me to apologize for something I didn't do.”

“I didn't say you had to apologize.”

“You've spent the last ten minutes telling me how lucky I am because you refused to marry him. What exactly do you want me to say?”

Selene looked at herself in the mirror before answering.

“I just want you to understand that Father didn't choose you because you're special.”

I felt my chest tighten, but I kept my voice calm.

“I already know that.”

“He chose you because I said no.”

“I know.”

“And if I had said yes, you wouldn't be sitting there wearing that dress.”

“I know that too.”

She looked at me with a satisfied expression, as though she had finally managed to hurt me.

“I thought you would deny it.”

“Why would I deny something I already know?”

Her expression changed.

“You're not even angry?”

“I am angry. I'm just not going to give you the satisfaction of watching me lose control.”

She stood up.

“You really think you're better than me.”

“No, Selene. I think I'm tired of you treating everything like a competition.”

“I don't compete with you.”

I laughed quietly.

“You've been competing with me since you came into this house.”

“That isn't true.”

“You compare yourself to me all the time. You talk about how Father listens to you, how he trusts you, how you understand the family better than I do. You keep reminding me that he chose to marry your mother and that you became his favorite afterward. If you're really as secure as you pretend to be, you wouldn't need to keep reminding me of it.”

“You are jealous.”

“I was hurt. There is a difference.”

“Whatever makes you feel better.”

I looked back at the mirror.

“Are you finished?”

She stood there for another moment before picking up her phone.

“You know, I was going to wish you a happy wedding, but I think I'll save it for later.”

“That's fine.”

She walked toward the door. Before leaving, she turned around.

“For your sake, I hope Tristan is as kind as Father says he is. Otherwise, you might realize that being chosen by Father isn't as wonderful as you think.”

“I'll take my chances.”

She left the room, clearly annoyed. The makeup artist looked at me through the mirror but wisely said nothing. I appreciated that because I had no desire to discuss Selene with anyone else.

I took a slow breath and looked at myself again.

I still wasn't sure whether I was ready for the wedding, but there was nothing left to prepare for. My dress was already waiting in the next room, my father had already made the arrangements, and Tristan was apparently expecting a bride.

Unfortunately, neither of us had met before today.

SEVERAL hours later, I found myself standing at the entrance of the church with my father beside me.

The large wooden doors were still closed, and I could hear the music coming from inside. My hands were cold despite the warmth of the afternoon, and I kept adjusting my fingers around the bouquet because I did not know what else to do. My father looked at me.

“Are you all right?”

“I think so.”

“You don't have to be afraid.”

“I'm not afraid of the wedding itself. I just don't know what to expect from him.”

My father gave me a reassuring smile.

“Tristan is a good man. Give him a chance to know you.”

“I'll try.”

The music changed, and I knew it was time. My father offered me his arm, and I placed my hand around it. The church doors slowly opened. I immediately felt hundreds of eyes turn toward me. I tried to keep my attention on the aisle, but my nervousness increased with every step. The long aisle seemed much farther than it had looked when I entered the church earlier for the rehearsal. I could feel my heartbeat getting faster, and I reminded myself to breathe normally.

Then I looked toward the altar.

For the first time, I saw Tristan Westbrook.

I had heard his name so many times that I had already created an image of him in my head, but none of it prepared me for the man actually standing in front of me.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a perfectly fitted black tuxedo that made him look even more imposing. His dark hair was neatly styled, and his features were sharply defined, from his straight nose to his strong jaw. He had the kind of face that would easily attract attention in any room, but what caught me most was his expression. He looked calm and composed, although his eyes were fixed directly on me as I walked closer.

I had never met him before. Yet at that moment, I could not stop staring.

He was much more handsome than I had expected.