The funeral Dress
Aurora Bennett stood before the mirror in her childhood room, wearing the same black dress she’d worn three years ago—the day her mother was buried. The fabric hung looser now, but it still held the same weight, like sorrow stitched into every thread. Her fingers brushed the neckline, tracing memories she no longer had the right to grieve.
Downstairs, laughter echoed. Lila’s laugh—high, light, and fake.
"Aurora!" her stepmother’s voice followed. "Don’t keep your father waiting."
She swallowed the lump in her throat, smoothing her dress before stepping out of the room that was no longer hers. The house hadn’t felt like home in years. Not since her mother’s portrait was taken down and replaced with Veronica’s.
She descended the stairs slowly. Her father, Mr. Bennett, stood near the front door, dressed in his best suit. He didn’t look at her. Instead, he adjusted his cufflinks nervously, like a man preparing for a deal—not a father sending his daughter off.
Lila appeared beside him, draped in lavender silk, her golden hair curled perfectly. She smiled, but her eyes glittered with satisfaction.
“You look... presentable,” Lila said sweetly.
“Thank you,” Aurora murmured, her voice calm despite the sting.
Veronica stepped forward with a small box. “This is for you. From the Moore family. A symbol of their acceptance.”
Inside was a delicate silver bracelet, encrusted with diamonds so small, they sparkled like frost.
“A collar,” Aurora muttered before she could stop herself.
Veronica’s smile stiffened. “A gift. You’re about to marry into the most powerful family in the capital. Try not to ruin it.”
Mr. Bennett finally looked up. “This marriage will save the company. You understand that, don’t you?”
Aurora nodded. She’d understood the moment he presented the contract. One signature to erase years of neglect. One signature to tie her to a man she’d never met. A man in a wheelchair. A man whose own family had whispered shame around.
“Good,” he said, as if that was all she was worth.
---
The Moore estate was everything she expected—grand, intimidating, and cold. Towering iron gates opened to a world of manicured hedges and silent guards. Aurora stepped out of the car into a new life, one built not on love, but necessity.
Inside, the marble floors echoed beneath her steps. A butler guided her through hallways of oil paintings and silence. They stopped in front of heavy double doors.
“Your husband is inside,” he said with a small bow.
Aurora took a breath and opened the door.
The room smelled of paper and rain. It was dimly lit, lined with bookshelves and one grand window. A man sat by the window, his back to her, his wheelchair barely noticeable behind the high-backed chair.
“You’re early,” he said without turning.
Aurora stepped in. “I was told to come.”
A pause. “Of course. That’s how this works, right? Orders.”
“I’m Aurora,” she said gently.
Finally, he turned.
Adrian Moore was handsome, even in the shadows. Sharp cheekbones, messy dark hair, eyes like ice that had seen too much. But there was bitterness there—hard and unapologetic.
“I know who you are,” he said, eyes locking onto hers. “You’re the sacrifice.”
His words stung, but she didn’t flinch. “And you’re the punishment.”
Something flickered in his gaze—surprise, maybe—but it disappeared quickly.
“This will be easier if you stay quiet and obedient,” he said.
Aurora stepped forward, voice soft but firm. “I’ve done that my whole life. Maybe it’s time I stopped.”
Adrian watched her for a moment longer, then turned back to the window.
Outside, the rain began to fall.
---
End of Chapter One
