My head spun, pulse roaring in my ears as I tried to make sense of what I was seeing.
Anita died years ago.
They told us she died on that bus.
So how was she standing barely five feet away from me?
Not just alive, but now a high-society legend. Draped in silk and diamonds. Damien Romano's infamous ex. A woman whose dress alone could probably pay off our entire house bills twice over.
What the hell happened to her?
"Really, Damien?" she said sharply. "You're truly going to replace me?"
That voice—familiar and cruelly missed—cut straight through me. Her blue eyes were locked on him, burning with something that looked painfully sincere… if I didn't know her better.
Damien barely moved. He leaned back in his ornate chair, jaw clenched, irritation hardening into something darker.
"I have nothing to do with you," he said calmly. "Quietly take a seat. Or leave."
The words landed like a slap.
Anita froze, lashes fluttering as her perfect composure cracked. "I—Damien, what? You can't talk to me like this."
He didn't answer, didn't soften, just turned slightly away.
So the cold wasn't just to me then. Good to know.
"I know you're angry," she pressed, desperation creeping in. "But you can't do this. Not after everything. Who is she? This… nobody?"
My brows shot up.
Nobody?
I almost laughed. This was the same sister I shared a bed with because we couldn't afford two. I literally wore her hand-me-downs!
And now I was a nobody because she somehow escaped death—if she even got into an accident—and it hit big?
She didn't even look at me—her attention glued to Damien as her goddess act crumbled into something frantic.
The hall had gone deathly silent. No whispers now. No polite murmurs. Just hundreds of eyes fixed on us, devouring the spectacle like it was live entertainment.
"Damien, please," she said theatrically, a perfectly placed tear slipping free. "You have every right to be angry, but we can't end like this."
He still didn't move.
"If you don't leave right now," he said evenly, "I'll have security escort you out."
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"I can't!" She stepped onto the platform, reaching for him. "Give me five minutes. I love you. I never stopped loving you. Don't replace me with—" She gestured vaguely in my direction.
His eyes scanned the awed audience then snapped shut, jaw ticking.
Damien stood abruptly, fury radiating off him as he adjusted his cuff and turned toward a side door.
Anita sniffled… then shot me a smug, victorious smirk, like she'd already won.
And followed him.
Just like that, I was alone.
The silence afterward was unbearable. Worse than the whispers had been. Every single eye in the room pinned to me—the nobody bride who had just been publicly discarded.
My chest tightened, heat flooding my face. I could feel my heartbeat in my throat, my fingers numb, my smile long since shattered. The orchestra resumed softly, pretending nothing had happened, and somehow that made it worse.
Enough.
I shakingly as I stepped off the platform and marched toward the same door they'd disappeared through. I didn't look at anyone. I couldn't.
Elise helped me into the car and took me back to the penthouse. "Did you know this was going to happen?" I asked, my gaze fixed outside the glass.
"I heard her name got on the attendance list somehow, but we weren't sure"
I pinched my eyes tight. Fuck!
"Why didn't you warn me?" I whispered, "Aria I'm very sorry…"
By the time we arrived, dread had coiled deep in my stomach. He stayed at the penthouse in the top hotel of the city. His hotel.
Quite a massive penthouse with an enormous view of the entire city from the floor to ceiling windows. I didn't think it was possible to live in a hotel long term.
Elise showed me my room, where my things were already stationed, then had food brought upstairs before leaving me alone.
After coming to terms with the fact that I was going to be competing with my resurrected sister, I pulled out my phone. "Romano wedding today."
"Bold of you to assume I'd allow paparazzi to leak my business."
I nearly jumped out of my skin.
I spun around. Damien stood in the doorway, immaculate and composed, every trace of earlier rage wiped clean like it had never existed.
"I assume you've finished throwing your fit, Aria," he said coolly, stepping closer.
I shifted back instinctively. "I assume you've finished with your lover."
"She is not my lover," he corrected, eyes narrowing. "And I was wondering why you chose to publicly embarrass me and my family with your… stunt."
"I didn't want to sit alone on that stage while you disappeared with her."
"That discomfort is irrelevant," he said flatly. "You're being paid to maintain composure."
I scoffed and turned away.
"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded.
"Bed," I said tiredly. "I'm exhausted."
He stared at me like I'd lost my mind.
"Have you forgotten the goal of this agreement?"
My confusion lasted exactly one heartbeat before the horrible reality slammed into me.
Right.
It was our wedding night.