Leila
The flower arrangements scattered across the wedding marquee.
I looked outside. The sun was hidden, it wasn't rainy either. The Edinburgh weather was cool and still.
I walked down the stairs, the photographer's cameras flashing in my face.
“Madame, please we need a snapshot,” the photographer said, stepping aside and bending slightly to frame the shot.
Lady Florence came beside me with the other ladies.
“We can’t believe this, there's a new madame,” one of the women said.
Madame?
I mentally scoffed. These people didn't know it was all a contract. Everything was.
Today was all a lie and will end faster than they ever expected.
I was guided towards the gate of the manor's backyard. My veil slightly blurring my eyesight.
A tall presence came beside me. It was Uncle Hillary.
