Sister Of The Bride Cast Novels & Stories

I hovered at the doorway, drowning in the weight of my gown and the suffocating air of indifference. Alexander Westwood didn’t say a word. He walked straight to the minibar, poured himself a drink like this was just another business deal, like we hadn’t just stood in front of a hundred guests, pretending we were in love. He looked every bit the powerful CEO, ice in a perfectly tailored suit. I stood frozen, fists clenched around my veil, the ache in my chest spreading like wildfire. “Do you always look this calm after marrying your brother’s fiancée?” I asked, my voice low.

I could tell almost half of their pack came along and already whispering to each other about my absence. The sister had a sharp little face like a cat that has not been told to stop biting. She was wearing apricot silk and a great deal of jewelry. "Not a single guest," I heard her say. "Not even her *husband*. I told you, Mother." "Pathetic," the stepmother said. The father gave the bride a look I have given my dogs when they have soiled the rug. The bride did not flinch. She pulled a book out from under the table. She sat down on the edge of the dais — in a wedding gown, in the royal's receiving room — opened the book, and began to read.

“Do you know the bride?” “Yes.” She came out of the kitchen and stood beside him by the fire. “Robin is my cousin. Her father is my mother’s brother.” Funny, but Justin didn’t remember Robin mentioning anything about a cousin named Brooke. He did, however, remember hearing the Cavanaugh name. “Who’s your sister? The one whose car you thought you were in?” “Tiffany. She’s one of Robin’s bridesmaids.” He nodded. He knew Tiffany. “So, she’s your sister, huh?”

He releases me as he passes me to the next person, immediately the song changed. None other than the groom. My heart skipped a bit. “I never knew a beauty like this is a family member. Are you from the Deleroza's.” He voiced out, as soon as we began swaying to the beat. I allowed myself to relax. He is the least of my problems. I took in his appearance, as he was almost the same height as Damien, with black eyes, and black hair which are well gelled. “Yes. I am the bride's sister.” I simply answered.

Smiled. “Instead,” he said, stepping back, “I’ve asked someone else to be my bride.” My knees nearly gave way but I stood still, every cell in my body screaming. Out of the crowd, she stepped forward. Clarissa. My sister. Wearing my dress. "Liam," I breathed. "What are you doing?" He didn’t answer me. He extended his hand, to her. “Clarissa, love, come here.” And just like a rehearsed pageantry, she strode down the red carpet, a smile carved on her lips as she walked towards him, confident, calm and cruel.

"I'm his sister." Murmurs erupted from the crowd. "Where's the bride then?" "I had mistaken his sister for the bride." "Why would she be late?" The elder coughed. The murmurs ceased. "May the bride present herself." Yet again, silence. This time, the murmurs were louder than before. Eric growled silently next to me, his hands gripping the armrest. Trevor's face no longer held a confident smile as I watched him whisper into his wife's ears.

Chapter 1 Keresse “What the fuck is happening here!” A scream tore through my lungs as I stared at the scene before me. “K-Keresse—it’s not…” My palm connected hard with his face. The slap echoed in the bridal suite. I turned my gaze to my sister, standing there in her bridesmaid dress, lipstick smudged, hair messed up exactly like his. “You’re sleeping with the man I’m supposed to marry on my wedding day! Elara, you’re my fucking sister!” I shrieked, tears burning my eyes.

My brows scrunched in confusion. "Excuse me?" "No. You excuse me. If you want to have your daughter back, all you have to do is to disappear from Eric Wilson's life as you always do. My sister is the real bride to Eric!" My heart stopped beating, and I turned to Eric, only to see that he was already looking at me...

Even though I was also upset with that as I would not be there for the wedding, I had immediately booked the first flight home, wanting to be there for my brother’s big day, but that day I returned home for his wedding, only to attend a funeral instead. John had died in a car accident. The shock of it had been overwhelming, a crushing weight I could barely process. And amid the sea of mourners, I had seen her—his bride. My heart became heavy with sorrow and loss, I had come for my brother’s wedding and here I was attending his funeral. Amid the quiet murmurs of grief and the heaviness of loss, I had seen her— the mysterious bride. Among the sea of mourners dressed in black, she had appeared

A merger disguised as matrimony. There was no love in this. It was purely business. My bride, Selena Valenci, soon to be Selena Delacroix is undeniably beautiful, regal, elegant, but stubborn in all the wrong ways. When she came back from her little escapade, I was livid. I went to her father's mansion the moment I heard she was back and found her in the east hallway, flanked by guards and her mother. I pulled her aside, pressed her back against the wall, and looked her dead in the eyes.