Chapter 6 – The Missing Bride’s Shadow
1022 Words
The kiss was still in her head.
Sienna had told herself she’d forget it by morning, that it was just a performance for the cameras; a move designed to sell a perfect illusion. But lying there in the guest suite of Adrian Wolfe’s penthouse, the memory replayed in flashes she couldn’t control. The warmth. The steadiness. The way his hand had cupped her jaw like she belonged to him.
She shouldn’t be thinking about it. Not when the man had a reputation colder than the marble floors beneath her bare feet.
She pushed the thought away and focused on the coffee she’d found waiting outside her door. It was black, strong, and exactly the way she liked it. Which was unnerving because she hadn’t told him that.
By mid-morning, Adrian was gone. No note. No explanation. Just the quiet hum of an apartment too big for one person and a view of the city that felt like a reminder she was nowhere near her old life anymore.
She was halfway through her coffee when her phone buzzed.
A message from Adrian’s assistant:
Luncheon at the Carrington Club. 1PM. Appropriate attire.
No ‘please.’ No ‘hope you can make it.’ Just an instruction, the kind that didn’t invite questions.
---
The Carrington Club looked like the kind of place where secrets were written into the wood panelling. Dark mahogany walls, velvet chairs, and waiters who moved silently enough to overhear everything without ever being noticed.
Sienna arrived early—Adrian was already there. He sat at a corner table, impeccably dressed in a charcoal suit, his posture flawless. But it wasn’t just his presence that drew stares; it was the way people’s eyes lingered a fraction too long, as if they were trying to solve a puzzle.
She slid into the seat opposite him. “What’s this about?”
His gaze flicked briefly over her dress, and she could have sworn she saw approval before it was gone. “Acclimation. You’ll be meeting a few acquaintances. They’ll want to… evaluate you.”
She raised a brow. “Evaluate me? What am I, a stock portfolio?”
“Close enough.” His tone was dry, but the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth told her he wasn’t entirely serious.
The first couple approached moments later; a silver-haired man and a woman with diamonds big enough to blind. Introductions followed, smiles exchanged, and conversation that was more about reading between the lines than the words themselves.
It was during the third round of polite small talk that she heard it.
“…such a shame about Vanessa,” one of the women murmured, her eyes flicking to Sienna like she was studying a replacement part for a broken machine.
Sienna smiled, pretending not to notice but the name stuck in her mind. Vanessa.
---
The whispers kept coming in little fragments.
“She was… stunning.”
“They were set to marry in Italy, weren’t they?”
“No one knows what really happened.”
Every mention was careful, quiet. Like saying the name too loudly would invite trouble.
By dessert, curiosity had already taken root like a thorn under her skin. She waited until Adrian was speaking with a cluster of men near the bar before casually asking the waiter, “Who’s Vanessa?”
The man froze for half a second,so brief. She might have missed it if she hadn’t been watching. Then he smiled politely. “I’m afraid I don’t know, miss.” But the slight tension in his jaw told her otherwise.
---
On the drive back, the silence between them felt different. Not cold, watchful.
She tried to play it cool. “People kept talking about someone named Vanessa. Should I know who that is?”
Adrian didn’t look at her. “No.”
“That’s it? Just ‘no’?”
“Yes.”
She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. She considered pushing, but something in his profile; the hard set of his jaw, the way his hands gripped the wheel told her it was a line she wasn’t meant to cross.
For now.
---
That night, sleep didn’t come easily. She found herself scrolling through old society articles on her phone, searching for the name. It didn’t take long.
Vanessa Hale.
There she was, smiling in a photograph beside Adrian. She was luminous, the kind of beauty that made photographers fall in love with their own work. The caption read: Tech mogul Adrian Wolfe and fiancée Vanessa Hale spotted at the Met Gala, May 2019.
The date was three years ago.
And then nothing. No wedding photos. No public breakup announcement. Just… silence.
Sienna’s stomach tightened. Whoever Vanessa Hale was, she’d vanished from the public eye completely.
She closed the browser quickly, the faint sense of guilt gnawing at her. She was supposed to be focused on her own role in this charade, not digging into the ghosts in Adrian’s closet.
But she couldn’t shake the thought: If Vanessa had been Adrian’s bride-to-be, then where was she now?
---
The next morning, she found him in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, pouring coffee like a man who had never let someone else do it for him.
She tried to sound casual. “Did you love her?”
The cup paused midair. His head tilted slightly, just enough for her to catch the faintest flicker in his eyes. “That’s not a question you get to ask.”
“That’s not an answer,” she shot back before she could stop herself.
For a moment, the air between them went taut, like a wire pulled too tight. Then he set the cup down and met her gaze head-on.
“You’re here to play a role, Sienna. The past isn’t part of your script.”
She swallowed whatever retort was on her tongue. But as she turned to leave, she caught it, the smallest shadow in his expression. Not anger. Not irritation.
Loss.
For the first time since signing the contract, she wondered if she was living in the shadow of someone who had never really left.
- Writer
