15
1812 Words
Sunlight woke me before any sound in the villa did. It flowed through the white curtains like warm silk, brushing across my face and the blanket I had wrapped myself in on the sofa. For a moment, I did not know where I was. My mind drifted to the dance, the music, the way Chase had held me beneath the lights. I reached for that feeling in my sleep, like a memory too soft to stay.
Then the ocean spoke.
Waves crashed somewhere below the cliff, steady and rhythmic, reminding me of where I truly was. The unfamiliar smell of tropical flowers replaced the mountain forest scent of pack territory. The salt in the air sharpened my senses. I blinked slowly, letting morning settle around me like a comforting fabric.
When I sat up, the blanket slipped from my shoulders. My neck felt stiff from sleeping curled on the sofa, but I preferred this ache to lying in the bed covered in petals meant for Cassandra. I rubbed my eyes and looked toward the room.
The bed was empty.
Petals were scattered like red stars against the sheets. Chase was gone. The balcony doors stood open, letting in a warm breeze that fluttered the curtains like wings.
My heartbeat quickened with the question that rose uninvited.
Did he sleep at all.
I stood carefully and stretched, feeling my joints c***k slightly. My stomach grumbled loudly, reminding me I had eaten nothing since the reception, and even that had been a blur of nerves and pretending.
For a moment, I considered staying in the room to avoid attention. But that was impossible. We were supposed to be the happiest couple on earth, a story made for headlines and gossip pages. Cassandra would have been at breakfast early, smiling brightly, greeting staff like she owned the room.
I was her shadow wearing borrowed clothes.
I took a breath and walked toward the wardrobe, picking something light. A soft yellow summer dress, thin straps, loose skirt. Cassandra would wear it with diamonds and a perfect smile. I chose a mask again and sunglasses, the same shield from yesterday.
When I stepped into the hallway, my heart beat too loud. I followed the sounds of quiet movement and voices until I reached the open dining area, a beautiful space half indoors, half outdoors, facing the sea with large wooden pillars draped in flowers. The morning sun painted ivory patterns across the polished floor.
The villa staff were already at work. People moved around gracefully, setting dishes on the long table. A basket of tropical fruits. Plates of pancakes topped with caramel. Fresh coconut bread. I breathed in the smell. It was sweet and warm, layered with something floral.
Two people saw me first.
A woman with dark hair in a braid, wearing a soft linen dress. She smiled at me like she was greeting someone she already knew. Beside her was a tall young man, barefoot, carrying a tray of sliced fruit. He had sun kissed skin and eyes that sparkled like he carried stories behind every look.
“Good morning Miss Cassandra,” the woman said warmly.
My heart jumped. The name hit like a soft needle to the ribs.
I nodded slightly, trying to channel my sister’s confidence. I lifted my chin, relaxed my shoulders, and offered a polite smile. It probably looked awkward, but she did not seem to notice.
“Good morning,” I replied.
The woman’s smile widened. “I am Malia, the housekeeper. This is my nephew Keoni. We will be taking care of you today. Anything you want, you just say.”
Keoni grinned slightly as he set down the tray. “Especially if it is fruit. I make the best fruit plates on the island. Ask anyone.”
His confidence made me blush behind the mask. Cassandra would have laughed and told him to impress her then. She would have praised him aloud. I tried to mimic that tone, though it felt unnatural on my tongue.
“It looks beautiful already,” I said. “Thank you.”
Keoni stared at me for a moment, surprised by the softness of my voice. His eyes narrowed with curiosity. Malia gently nudged his elbow.
“We are honored to have you both here,” she said. “Everyone on the island has been talking about your wedding. It was televised in the local sports bars.”
My stomach tightened. They watched it. The dance. The moments. The crowning image of a fake bride smiling beneath a veil.
Before I could respond, I heard steps behind me.
Chase entered the room, wearing a simple white shirt and dark linen trousers. His hair was damp from a morning shower. The moment he stepped into the sunlight, he looked like something the ocean had created itself. Calm. Cold. Magnificent. The staff straightened instantly, offering respectful bows.
“Good morning Alpha,” Malia said with pride.
Chase nodded politely. “Thank you.”
His eyes drifted toward me. Only for a moment. Just enough to acknowledge my presence without giving away anything real. His face returned to the perfect mask he wore for the world.
I realized I was standing too stiffly. Trying too hard. I forced myself to relax, though it was difficult. Trying to be Cassandra made me feel like someone else entirely, walking in a skin that did not belong to me.
We sat down together at the table.
Chase took the seat at the head. I sat to his right. The workers placed dishes gently in front of us, as if we might break like porcelain if touched too roughly. Cameras were not here, but reputation always was.
I lifted my fork slowly, taking a piece of fruit. Malia watched us with a glowing expression, like she was witnessing a fairytale.
To her, we looked perfect.
Then Keoni spoke with cheerful boldness.
“You are not like I expected.”
My hand froze in midair.
Chase looked at him sharply, eyes narrowed in question. Malia’s face went pale as she elbowed him hard in the ribs, whispering a warning. Keoni laughed under his breath and rubbed his side.
“I only meant,” he continued with a playful smile, “I heard Miss Cassandra had a big personality. Very fashionable. Very bright. Always talking. But you seem quiet. Sweet.”
I felt heat rush to my cheeks. My fingers tightened around the fork. I forced myself to laugh lightly, shaking my head, but I knew Chase heard the truth inside that accidental comment.
Cassandra was loud. I was silent.
Chase watched me closely, almost too closely. Something flickered in his expression, confusion mixed with realization. Like a thread had pulled loose in the fabric of the story he thought he knew. Like he was seeing something he could not explain.
He turned to Keoni, voice cool but not unfriendly.
“People are different when cameras are on,” he said. “This is a honeymoon. Not a press conference.”
Malia sighed with relief that he defended me.
I nodded slowly. “I like quiet mornings.”
Keoni smiled with the innocence of someone who saw nothing but what was in front of him. “Then this is the perfect place. Quiet ocean. Quiet days.”
The moment softened. I felt my muscles relax slightly.
We ate in gentle silence after that. The food was delicious beyond words. Sweet, warm, comforting. It tasted like another world, one not built on expectations or bloodlines. For a moment, I forgot the mask on my face.
Until Chase’s phone rang.
The sound was sharp in the peaceful space, cutting through the moment like a blade. Chase lifted it, eyes narrowing.
“Yes,” he said in a clipped tone.
His posture changed. Knees apart, elbows on the table, one hand pressing against his forehead. He listened, nodding once, eyes darkening.
“Yes, I saw the afternoon coverage. No, I do not want the interview right now.”
My heart shifted painfully. Media coverage.
Pictures of the wedding. Pictures of us. Pictures of a lie that made millions of people smile.
Chase exhaled slowly. “The charity event is still scheduled. We will manage the honeymoon coverage carefully. I do not want her overwhelmed.”
Her.
Cassandra.
The words were meant to protect, but they hurt anyway.
When he ended the call, his eyes flicked toward me again. Something in his expression softened for a fraction of a second. A trace of guilt maybe, a shadow of concern.
He leaned closer, speaking low so only I could hear.
“You need to maintain low profile. The paparazzi are watching even from a distance. Do not go anywhere alone. Stay close to the villa staff. Do not answer questions.”
I nodded. “I understand.”
His gaze lingered on me. There was tension there, thick and heavy, like something written between us in invisible ink. He seemed to want to say something more, but he did not.
Before either of us could speak again, Malia lifted her phone discreetly. She took a picture of the table setting. What she did not know was that Chase and I were in the corner of the frame, sitting close, looking like a couple enjoying breakfast.
The first image of our honeymoon.
A false image that would circle the world.
Keoni did the same when he delivered more fruit, snapping quick photos of the flower arrangements with the ocean behind us. In those photos, my hand rested near Chase’s arm. A detail that would be interpreted as intimacy when posted online.
My heart beat faster.
Everything here was a stage. Every smile was a script. Every breath might be photographed and turned into proof of a love that did not exist.
Yet when Chase took his cup of coffee, his hand brushed mine lightly. The warmth of his touch shot through me like electricity. Not enough to be seen. Just enough to remind me of the dance, of the night, of the way my body had reacted without asking permission.
He did not pull away.
I did.
The rest of breakfast passed with small conversations. Chase received more calls. From his coach. From the board. From a sponsor demanding a promotional image of the ring.
The world outside the island was loud. Hungry. Waiting.
The wedding was exploding across social media.
There was a trending video of our dance. A screenshot of our hands intertwined. Headlines about the Alpha who married the perfect bride. Articles describing the romance of the century. Strangers praising a story that none of us earned.
I stared at the ocean.
It looked peaceful.
But even the waves seemed to whisper a truth I could not ignore.
Everything beautiful here was built on a lie.
And I was the ghost wearing my sister’s smile.
- Writer
