The pearls around Evelyn Moreau's throat were strangling her long before her future husband could.
Her mother yanked them tighter as if testing how far a daughter could be stretched before she snapped. "Stop breathing so loud. You're ruining your makeup."
"It's called being alive," Evelyn muttered.
"Do that quieter, then."
Evelyn clenched her jaw and stared at her reflection—pale skin, red lips, perfect curls. A bride carved from expectation, not choice. A silk corset, tight enough to bruise, forced her spine straight and her ribs immobile.
This was supposed to be the happiest day of her life.
What a fucking joke.
Behind her, her mother laughed cheerfully at something shallow, while her father paced with the same businesslike intensity he used when negotiating million-dollar deals.
"You look perfect," he said without looking at her face. Only the dress mattered. The appearance. The alliance.
He had no idea she'd cried for hours last night.
No one cared. They just wanted her to be quiet, beautiful, compliant.
Useful.
Damien enters like a storm wrapped in silk
The door opened without a knock.
Damien Voss stepped in, dressed in an immaculate black suit that made him look like a man preparing for a funeral rather than a wedding. His eyes dragged over her from head to toe.
"You'll do," he said. "You actually look almost obedient today."
Almost.
Her hands curled into fists.
He walked up to her, took her chin between his fingers, and tilted her face toward him. "Don't make any scenes. Don't talk back. Don't embarrass me. You behave today, or I'll make your life a goddamn nightmare. Clear?"
Evelyn swallowed.
"I hear you."
"Good girl."
The words made her skin crawl.
He leaned closer, breath ghosting her ear. "Try not to look terrified when you walk down the aisle. I don't want guests thinking I forced you into this."
But you did, she thought.
He smirked, patted her cheek like she was some obedient pet, and swaggered out of the room.
Her mother clasped her hands together, beaming. "Isn't he wonderful?"
Evelyn didn't answer.
If she did, she'd scream.
Hours Later — The Ceremony Approaches
The church bells tolled outside the Moreau estate, deep, solemn, too heavy for something meant to be celebratory.
Her wedding dress shimmered as she stood alone in the bridal preparation room. Layers of white silk cascaded like snowfall around her feet.
She felt like a ghost wearing someone else's life.
"Evelyn," her father said, poking his head in. "It's time. The guests are seated. Damien is waiting at the altar."
Her stomach twisted sharply.
Her father softened his tone by exactly one degree. "I know you're nervous, but everything is riding on this. Walk out there, smile, and marry that man."
"Right," she whispered. "Marry him."
If she hesitated much longer, she might faint.
Or run.
Or scream until the windows shattered.
But just then—
The door slammed open.
Sira busted in, face bone-white, hands trembling violently. "My lady—" she choked, grabbing the rocking table . "Lady Moreau, something's wrong. Something—someone from the Voss estate just called—"
"What? What happened?"
Her mother turned her horrified gaze onto Sira.
"Damien— he—"
Footsteps thundered down the hall. A Moreau security guard appeared in the doorway, sweating and breathless.
"Sir—Ma'am—Miss Moreau—there's been an incident."
Evelyn's heart dropped into her stomach.
"What incident?" her father demanded.
The guard swallowed hard.
"It's Damien Voss. He was found in the groom's suite. Collapsed. No pulse. The--they tried to help him." His voice snagged. "He's dead."
The room went silent.
Painfully silent.
The air thickened, pressing against Evelyn's skin.
Her ears rang.
"What?" she whispered, the word barely forming. "No… he was just here."
Her mother began shaking her head like she could undo reality. "No, no, no—our contract, our alliance—it can't—this can't—"
But Evelyn wasn't thinking about contracts.
She wasn't thinking about alliances.
She wasn't thinking about the chaos erupting around her.
All she could feel was the shock burning through her veins.
She was in her wedding dress.
Moments from walking toward him.
Toward a life she never wanted.
Toward a future she hated.
And now he was gone.
Just like that.
Her breath came out shaky.
Then, slowly…
A chill swept through the room.
The candles flickered.
The air felt… watched.
Damien Voss was dead.
And whatever had taken him…
wasn't finished.