Olivia’s POV：
A week passed in a blur of preparation and politics. Now, staring at my reflection in the full-length mirror, I barely recognized myself. The white dress was simpler than my first wedding gown—no elaborate beading or yards of silk. This one hugged my warrior's frame in clean lines, the material soft but sturdy, like armor made of starlight.
"You look beautiful, Alpha heir," Janice murmured as she adjusted my hair. Unlike last time, there was no false praise in her voice. Just quiet respect.
"A warrior in a wedding dress," I said softly, running my hands over the material. "Mother would laugh at the irony."
A knock interrupted my thoughts. Dominic's scent—silver fir and cedar—drifted through the door.
"It's bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony," Janice protested,
