Elena’s povThe scent of sandalwood, Oliver’s usual cologne, slowly seeped into my frantic senses. It was a balm, a tiny island of calm in the hurricane swirling inside me. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat a frantic drum against the silence of the room.“Easy, Elena, easy,” Oliver murmured, his voice a low rumble against my ear. He held me close, his strong arms a reassuring weight, pulling me back from the edge of panic. “It’s just a dress. It can be fixed. We’ll figure it out.”Fixed? A wave of fresh despair washed over me. The intricate lacework, ripped and shredded. The delicate silk, stained and torn. It wasn't just a dress; it was a symbol of my hope, my future with Oliver. And someone, someone deliberately cruel, had destroyed it. This was more than a warning of what was yet to come.“Who would do this?” I finally managed to choke out, my voice trembling. The image of the ruined gown, a mangled mess of white, flashed behind my eyes.Oliver tightened his grip, his ja
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