THE SWITCHED HEIRESS
THE WEDDING
The chandeliers burned gold that morning. Every crystal shimmered like a secret. The Castell mansion had been turned into a cathedral of perfection, white roses, soft music, and too many people pretending they believed in love.
Hazel stood before the mirror in her bridal suite, her dress flowing like mist over marble. She had never looked more untouchable. Diamonds hung from her ears, her lips painted the shade of quiet danger.
Her hands, though, trembled slightly when no one looked.
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