Scorned In Vernice

Chapter two : The engagement preparation

(Bianca pov)

My house had never felt this alive before.

Everywhere you turned, there was noise and movement. Voices bouncing off the walls, the faint smell of roses floating through the hallways, and laughter spilling out of the living room where Clara and the event planner were already drowning in decorations and fabric samples.

Tomorrow was the engagement party. My engagement party.

Outside my window, Venice looked like a dream. The canals glittered under the morning sun, and the gondolas slid through the water so slowly it almost felt like time had stopped. From my balcony, I could hear their songs mixing with the sound of the breeze. It was perfect. Maybe too perfect.

I turned away and started walking to the sitting room, the click of my heels blending with the faint music playing in the background.

“Bianca! Finally!” Clara’s voice hit me the second I walked in. She stood near the fireplace, surrounded by piles of fabric and color swatches like she was running a fashion war zone.

“Good morning to you too,” I said, smiling as my maid handed me a cappuccino.

“Morning? It’s almost noon!” Clara rolled her eyes. “We have been arguing for half an hour about your gown color. The planner wants ivory, but I think champagne gold makes your eyes pop.”

The planner, Serena a calm, elegant Italian woman sighed softly. “Signorina Donald, ivory looks better under candlelight. It will make you glow beautifully during the ceremony.”

Clara huffed. “She already glows. Let her look like a goddess while she is at it.”

I laughed. Watching them go back and forth was pure entertainment.

“Okay, okay,” I said, putting my cup down. “Let’s just see both dresses.”

Serena nodded and waved for the maids to bring them out. A few moments later, two mannequins stood in front of me one in ivory silk that shimmered like moonlight, and the other in champagne gold covered in tiny crystals.

Both were stunning.

“Try the gold one first,” Clara said quickly. “Please. For me.”

I gave in with a smile. The maid helped me into it, and the fabric felt soft and warm against my skin. When I turned to the mirror, I had to catch my breath.

The girl looking back wasn’t the orphan who grew up with nothing. She was Bianca Donald the CEO, the heir, the woman who is about to marry Matteo DeLuca.

“How do I look?” I asked quietly.

Clara grinned. “Like you were born to rule. Matteo is going to faint.”

Serena tilted her head thoughtfully. “It’s perfect for the after party. But for the ceremony, ivory would be timeless.”

I looked at myself again. Both dresses had their own kind of beauty. “Then I’ll wear both,” I decided. “Ivory for the ceremony, gold for the night.”

Serena smiled. “Perfect choice, Signorina.”

I sank onto the couch as they packed up the fabrics.

Everything was moving so fast, planning, organizing, deciding. It was exciting, but it also made me feel like I couldn’t breathe.

Clara sat down next to me with that familiar mischievous smile. “I still can’t believe you’re marrying Matteo DeLuca. Half of Venice probably hates you right now.”

I laughed. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m serious,” she said. “He is handsome, rich, smart, and completely in love with you. You’re lucky, you know that?”

Her words warmed me, but somewhere deep inside, something tightened. Everyone called me lucky. Lucky to have Matteo, lucky to have the company, lucky to have this life.

But luck always comes with a price.

“I guess I am,” I said, forcing a small smile.

Just then, Serena’s assistant walked in with a clipboard. “Signorina, to confirm the decorations tonight, guests arrive at seven, quartet confirmed, menu finalized. Anything else?”

“White roses,” Clara jumped in. “Not lilies.”

Serena nodded. “White roses pure and timeless. Symbol of eternal love.”

Eternal love.

The words hung in the air.

“Perfect,” I said. “Make sure everything is flawless. Matteo wants it to be unforgettable.”

“It will be,” Serena promised before leaving.

When it was just Clara and me again, she poured herself another mimosa. I stared at my engagement ring, the diamond catching the light like it had its own heartbeat.

“You’ve been staring at that thing for ages,” she teased. “Worried it will disappear?”

I smiled. “Just can’t believe it’s real. All of it.”

“Well, you deserve it,” she said, softer this time. “After everything you have been through.”

I reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Thanks.”

She grinned again. “Now stop being emotional before your makeup artist kills me.”

I laughed and wiped at the corners of my eyes.

A moment later, my maid, Elisa, walked in with a tray. “Miss Bianca, would you and Miss Clara like another drink?”

“Yes,” Clara said immediately. “And make it champagne.”

Elisa smiled shyly as she poured. She was only nineteen, quiet and sweet. I had hired her last year after finding her working in a small cafe by the canals. She reminded me of myself, trying hard to find her place in the world.

As she handed me my glass, she said softly, “Everything looks so beautiful, Miss Bianca. You will be the most beautiful bride in Venice tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Elisa,” I said. “That means a lot.”

Clara raised her glass. “To Bianca and Matteo!”

“To the perfect couple,” Elisa added with a little giggle.

We clinked glasses, and for a moment, it really did feel perfect.

Later that night, when everyone was gone, I sat alone in my room. The gold dress hung beside the mirror, catching the soft light from the lamp. Outside, I could hear the slow rhythm of the gondolas passing by.

I pulled the curtain back and looked out at the city glowing under the sunset. Venice looked beautiful, almost unreal like a place built for dreams and secrets.

I picked up the golden gown and held it against me. For a second, I didn’t see the girl who had nothing. I saw the woman who had fought for everything.

But still, there was this small, strange feeling inside me, a weight I couldn’t explain. Like something was coming.

The church bells started to ring across the water. The sound was beautiful and haunting all at once.

I smiled at my reflection and whispered to myself,

“Tomorrow will be perfect.”

Tomorrow would be ours.

At least, that is what I kept telling myself.