The replacement bride

There were twenty-three minutes left before my sister's wedding, and I was eating her emergency chocolate. Not because I was hungry. Well, I was hungry. But mostly because if I didn't put something in my mouth, I was going to say something that would make my mother cry, my aunt faint, and the wedding planner quit. Again. I sat on the edge of the dressing table, still wearing the robe they'd given me before putting me into Vivienne's wedding dress. The chocolate wrapper crackled between my fingers. I stared at my reflection. White dress. Pinned hair. Too much makeup. A veil waiting beside me. And absolutely no bride. "Elara." I looked at the door. My mother stood there with one hand pressed against the frame. She had changed three times that morning. I knew because I'd watched her do it. She'd started in a blue dress, changed to champagne, then finally settled on the pale green one she was wearing now. She looked beautiful. She also looked like someone had forgotten to tell her where the nearest exit was. I swallowed the chocolate. "Twenty-three minutes." Her eyes moved to the clock. "I know." "Has anyone found her?" She didn't answer. I laughed under my breath. "That's a no." "Elara, please." "Please what?" My mother stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. She lowered her voice. "Don't make this harder than it already is." I stared at her. "My sister disappeared on her wedding day." "I know." "Her phone has been off since seven this morning." "I know." "Her car isn't at the hotel." "I know." "And somehow everyone downstairs is still telling guests she's getting ready." My mother closed her eyes. I slid off the table. "What exactly am I supposed to do with that information?" Her silence answered me. I pointed at myself. "No." "Elara—" "No." "You haven't even heard me." "I don't need to." I looked at the wedding dress hanging beside me. Vivienne's dress. I'd seen her choose it six months ago. She'd stood in the boutique for nearly two hours, rejecting one dress after another because she said every single one made her look like somebody's aunt. I'd laughed so hard that she'd threatened to make me leave. And now I was wearing it. Something about that felt wrong. Not emotionally wrong. Physically wrong. Like putting on someone else's shoes and realizing there was something sharp hidden inside them. My mother walked closer. "We need you to help us." "Find Vivienne." "We are trying." "Try harder." "Elara." "What?" She looked at me for a long moment. Then she said quietly, "The guests have already arrived." I blinked. "And?" "The groom's family is here." I waited. "Still not my problem." Her face changed. That tiny movement told me more than her words had. "What's wrong?" "Nothing." "Don't do that." "Do what?" "That thing where you say nothing while looking like somebody just died." She looked away. I stepped closer. "Mum." She finally looked at me. "Vivienne left something for you." My stomach tightened. "What?" She reached into the pocket of her dress. For a second, I thought she'd pull out a letter. Instead, she handed me a phone. I recognized it immediately. Vivienne's. My fingers went cold. "Where did you get this?" "Your aunt found it." "When?" "This morning." "Where?" My mother hesitated. "Inside her room." I took the phone. The screen was black. "Does it work?" "We thought the battery was dead." I pressed the power button. Nothing. I tried again. Still nothing. "Then how am I supposed to—" The screen suddenly lit up. I froze. One notification. 1 New Message. My mother leaned closer. I unlocked the phone. There was no name. No number. Just a message. Don't marry him. I stared at the screen. My mother went completely still. "Who sent that?" "I don't know." I read it again. My mouth felt dry. "Does Vivienne have another number?" "Not that I know of." I looked at the time. 8:37 a.m. The wedding was supposed to begin at nine. I typed: Who is this? Before I could send it, another message appeared. Unless you want to find me. I stopped breathing. My mother grabbed my wrist. "Elara." I pulled away. "What?" "Don't reply." I stared at her. "Why?" She didn't answer. Again. That silence. That horrible silence everyone in this family had apparently decided was a perfectly acceptable substitute for the truth. I looked at the message. Then at my mother. "Did Vivienne tell you she was leaving?" "No." "Did she tell anyone?" "No." "Then why does this sound like she knew something was going to happen?" My mother sat down. She suddenly looked exhausted. "Your sister has always made her own decisions." "That's not an answer." "I know." "Then give me one." She looked at me. "I can't." I almost laughed. "Of course." I handed her the phone. "I'm going downstairs." Her expression changed. "Where?" "To cancel the wedding." She stood immediately. "You can't." "Watch me." "Elara, you don't understand what you're doing." "Then explain it to me." She said nothing. I reached for the door. "Elara." I stopped. Her voice had changed. Not frightened. Desperate. "Please don't leave this room." I turned around slowly. "Why?" My mother looked at the wedding dress. Then at me. "Because if Vivienne wanted you to know where she was, she would have told you." I stared at her. "She just did." My mother's face went pale. And for the first time that morning, I wondered whether she was afraid of Vivienne being missing— or afraid of what Vivienne might have told me. --- I made it to the corridor before my aunt caught up with me. "Elara!" I kept walking. She hurried after me. "Where are you going?" "To the bathroom." "You don't need to lie to me." "Then stop asking questions you already know the answer to." She grabbed my arm. I turned. My aunt released me. She looked at the dress. "You can't go downstairs like this." "Why?" "You'll cause a scene." I stared at her. "My sister disappearing isn't already a scene?" She looked away. That was when I noticed something. There were people standing at the end of the hallway. Two men. Both dressed in black. Neither looked like hotel staff. They weren't speaking. They were watching us. More specifically— they were watching me. I lowered my voice. "Who are they?" My aunt's eyes flicked toward them. Then away. "No one." "Interesting." I walked toward the stairs. "Elara." I ignored her. Halfway down, I heard the wedding planner talking to someone. "She's just having a little trouble with her nerves." I stopped. Someone answered. "The bride?" "Yes." I looked down at myself. Then I almost laughed. Apparently, the missing bride was now suffering from nerves. Good to know. I continued downstairs. The reception hall was beautiful. Too beautiful. Flowers everywhere. Candles. Gold table settings. A giant arrangement of white roses near the entrance. People smiled as I passed. Some congratulated me. Others whispered. I kept my head down. Then I saw him. Lucian. He wasn't surrounded by people. That surprised me. A man with that much money—or whatever kind of influence my sister's fiancé possessed—should have people orbiting him. Instead, he stood beside one of the tall windows with a glass of water in his hand. He wasn't drinking it. He was watching the entrance. Waiting. I wondered how long he'd been waiting for Vivienne. Then his eyes moved. Straight to me. I stopped. For one strange second, neither of us moved. His expression didn't change. No surprise. No confusion. Nothing. That bothered me more than if he'd looked shocked. The wedding planner hurried toward me. "Elara—" Lucian's gaze remained on me. I looked away first. I wasn't ready for whatever that man was thinking. Not when I had a missing sister. Not when my mother's behavior made no sense. And definitely not when Vivienne's last message was sitting inside my pocket. I turned around. "I need to make a phone call." The planner grabbed my arm. "Where are you going?" "Outside." "But the ceremony—" "I'm aware." I stepped away. My phone vibrated. I froze. I pulled Vivienne's phone from my pocket. Another message. This time, there was no warning. No explanation. Just a location. And underneath it: Come alone. I stared at the screen. My heart began beating faster. The location was less than fifteen minutes away. I looked toward the entrance. Then toward Lucian. He was still watching me. For some reason, I suddenly had the feeling that if I walked out of that room, I wouldn't be able to come back to the same life. I slipped the phone into my pocket. I had twenty-three minutes left when I entered the dressing room. Now I had twelve. And my sister had just asked me to come find her. Alone. I took one step toward the door. Then Lucian spoke behind me. "Elara." I stopped. I turned slowly. His expression was unreadable. But his next words were not. "Where are you going?" I tightened my grip around Vivienne's phone. "To find my sister." Something flickered across his face. Gone almost immediately. But I'd seen it. Fear. Lucian took a step toward me. "Don't." I frowned. "Don't what?" "Go there." I stared at him. "How do you know where I'm going?" He said nothing. And suddenly, one thought became impossible to ignore. Maybe my sister hadn't disappeared from her wedding. Maybe she'd disappeared from him. And if Lucian knew where she was— then I needed to know why. I walked past him. His voice followed me. "Elara." I stopped at the door. "Your sister didn't send that message." I turned. He was looking directly at me. "How do you know?" Lucian's face hardened. "Because Vivienne has been missing since last night." My blood ran cold. "Last night?" He nodded. "And I know exactly why." I stared at him. For the first time that morning, I forgot about the wedding. Forgot about the guests. Forgot about the dress. There was only one question left. "What happened to my sister?" Lucian looked toward the doors. Then back at me. "I was hoping you'd never have to find out." And that was when I realized something terrifying. Lucian wasn't waiting for Vivienne to come back. He was waiting to see whether I would.