L A N A
I always thought my engagement party would be the best night of my life. Maybe not the full glass-slipper thing, but at least something that feels special. Magical. You know? One of those nights where everything clicks. Champagne, laughter, a white dress that's just dramatic enough...
Instead, I get Diane.
"Darling, did no one tell you roses are overdone?" Her voice is soft, but every word sticks with me. She stands near the fireplace, swirling her wine like she's judging it. "They scream desperation. I would've gone with lilies. But..." she shrugs, "maybe that's just me."
I smile like a well-trained pageant queen and say, "I like roses."
That shuts her up for a second as she takes another sip, then scans the room like she owns it. Diane is my stepmother. She's been in my life since I was eight, and after my dad died. She stuck around mostly to make sure I didn't ruin the family name, or maybe just to control the parts of me she couldn't mould. She has always loved Tyler, my fiancé, maybe even more than me. Or perhaps she's just excited about me marrying someone with power and influence. Tyler has money; he works in finance, makes six figures, wears designer suits without trying too hard. So, of course, he was someone Diane would approve of. She stands across from me, glass in hand, perfectly dressed in a navy silk gown that probably costs more than the venue rental, playing supportive... playing mother. I tune her out and glance around the room.
The party is in full swing, soft lights glow from chandeliers, jazz floats through the speakers, and people are mingling like a scene from a wedding magazine. I hear someone laugh too loudly, someone else clink a glass. It's elegant. And it's everything I ever wanted.
I'm dressed in a soft cream dress, one that accentuates each and every curve on my body. I'd consider myself fit, but also on the more curvaceous side, having taken my workout and kickboxing classes a lot more seriously this year. My hair is dark, almost pitch black and falls just under my jaw in bouncy waves.
"Lana!"
Elizabeth appears out of nowhere, arms wide, red dress hugging her body like it was sewn on. Her hair's done in loose waves, her lipstick a perfect red. She always knows how to make an entrance.
"There you are," I say, hugging her as soon as she reaches me. "You look incredible."
"Please," she grins. "You look like a bridal goddess. I'm just here to orbit your glow."
She grabs a glass of champagne off a tray and downs half of it in one gulp, making me raise a brow.
"Nerves?" I ask.
"Pfft. What do I have to be nervous about? This is your show babe." She smiles, but there's something tight behind it. Something is… off.
I brush it aside. She's probably just overwhelmed. Everyone is.
Elizabeth has been my ride-or-die since freshman year. We've done everything together: bad breakups, worse hangovers, nights crying over textbooks and nights getting blackout drunk to celebrate literally nothing. She's the one who told me to give Tyler a chance. Said a guy like that doesn't come around twice. She's even the one who helped me pick out this dress, said Tyler would've be able to keep his hands off me.
And yet, tonight, her energy is weird. She keeps looking over her shoulder, checking her phone, tapping her fingers against the stem of her glass.
"You sure you're okay?" I ask.
"Totally, just a little buzzed. This whole night feels kind of surreal, right?" She chuckles lightly, but I know Elizabeth. She doesn't get nervous easily, but tonight she is.
"Yeah," I say. "Surreal's a good word for it."
She leans in. "You should go find Tyler. Isn't the groom-to-be supposed to be glued to your side?" She laughs again.
"He was just here. I think he stepped out to talk to someone."
Elizabeth squeezes my hand, but her eyes glance over my shoulder, past me, and I know why even before I turn around.
Tyler.
His light blue eyes meet mine, his soft brown hair effortlessly falling on his forehead. Butterflies fill my stomach as he makes his way over to me, and everything else seems to stop. Nothing else matters but him. He walks toward us, fresh drink in hand, smiling that smile that makes my stomach flutter even now. His suit fits like it was tailored just for tonight, because it was, and his hair is still perfectly in place even after a few hours of party chaos. He moves confidently, in a way that used to make me feel so lucky. Still does.
"There's my fiancée," he says, sliding an arm around my waist and kissing my cheek. "You holding up okay?"
"Of course. You?" I answer him, feeling myself loosen up as soon as he holds me.
"Getting there," he says, and turns to Elizabeth. "You look incredible, Liz."
It's a casual compliment, but it makes my heart drop sharply. I turn to Elizabeth, and watch her eyes light up like he just proposed to her.
She laughs, tossing her hair back. "You're not so bad yourself, future husband of my best friend."
But the way she says it doesn't sound teasing. It sounds like something layered, as if she's reminding herself. Or maybe warning me...
Tyler chuckles and raises his glass. "You two are the most dangerous pair in this room."
I watch them, his easy charm, her too-bright smile, and something immediately pinches in my chest. Not jealousy, exactly. Just… unease.
Elizabeth has always liked Tyler; that's never been a secret. She was the one who convinced me to go on a second date when I almost ghosted him.
I used to think it was just appreciation, a harmless one. Just a best friend hyping up my guy.
But tonight… she's looking at him too long, laughing a little too hard. And he's not exactly pulling away.
Still, I push the feeling down. I don't want to be that girl; jealous, insecure, imagining things where there's nothing.
Tyler kisses my temple and whispers, "Be right back," before slipping off again, something about checking with the DJ.
Elizabeth watches him go, her smile lingering a little too long.
Then she turns to me. "You really are the luckiest woman alive."
And for a moment, I believe her.
Even though I shouldn't...
. . . .
It's evening already, and the air is filled with the scent of roses, perfume, cologne and major anxiety, mostly from me. Simply because, despite how lovely this all is... Tyler is missing, again.
Initially, I dismissed it, assuming he was caught up in conversations or attending to last-minute details. But as minutes turned into an hour, unease settled deep within me. I need to find him.
Passing by the staircase, I nod absent-mindedly to guests who offer congratulations, their faces a blur. My mind races with possibilities, each more unsettling than the last. Is he unwell? Did something urgent come up? Or is there another reason for his disappearance?
I decide to check the more secluded areas of the mansion. The study is empty, save for the faint aroma of cigars and brandy. The library, usually a refuge, offers no solace tonight. As I approach the guest rooms, a muffled sound catches my attention. It's a soft giggle, followed by a hushed whisper...
My heart pounds in my chest, each beat echoing in my ears and I follow the sound to a door slightly ajar, causing warm light to spill into the dim hallway. And with a trembling hand, I push it open...