Second Best -Part 4
1048 Words
The courtyard of Veligrad Imperial Hotel shimmered under the golden veil of the setting sun. The velvet drapes, the crystal chandeliers, the sea breeze threading through the centuries-old archways… all of it played second fiddle to the true spectacle inside:
Not love.
Not joy.
Power.
Emily Sullivan stood tall in her satin gown, a vision of composure in white—yet beneath her collarbones lay the suffocating weight of everything she could not say. Every flashbulb, every whisper behind manicured hands, reminded her that this wasn’t a wedding.
It was a campaign launch.
Brian Karanell, future mayor and lifelong predator, stood at her side. Arm in arm, they moved toward the wedding table. Cameras clicked. Applause rose. But Emily’s thoughts wandered backward, not forward. To the boy who should have been here. To Daniel.
She had fought for Daniel. Loved him in silence, then aloud. She’d accepted his walls, honored his pain. There was no betrayal. No villain. And yet—he left. Or maybe he never stayed. Emotional fidelity, she had learned, could be as cruel as infidelity itself.
Brian wasn’t the one.
He had never been.
Not in high school, when his effortless charm masked something hollow.
Not in college, when he reappeared like a shadow she hadn’t invited.
He had always made his obsession clear.
Always believed he owned her.
Emily never could explain why she ran from him. Perhaps because deep down, she knew he never saw her as a person—only as a prize.
—
Three days after she and Daniel said goodbye, she spiraled. Club after club. Shot after shot. Her friends pulled her through with gossip and bad advice. But the ache never left.
On the third night, a man sat beside her. Too close. Too persistent.
She tried to brush him off, but his hand lingered—until another hand slammed him to the floor.
Brian.
Security dragged the man away. Brian took his seat, perfectly calm.
“Thanks?” she muttered.
Brian smirked. “Find a better way to thank me. Words don’t hold value.”
She scoffed. “What do you want?”
“To marry you.”
She blinked. “Are you insane?”
“I’ll let that slide. Just this once.”
He leaned in. “Your mother’s villa in Valmere… Cute little thing. The one your stepfather gave her?”
Emily froze.
“There’s been a pending demolition case. Illegal zoning. Environmental violations. It’s crawling through the courts… unless someone speeds it up.”
Her voice trembled. “You’d use my mother to trap me?”
He smiled. “You say trap, I say motivate.”
He smiled again. “I figured you’d say no. I look forward to her reaction when the bulldozers arrive.”
Emily sat. Her voice trembled. “I’m listening.”
“I’m running for mayor. I need to look like a family man. Someone like you—smart, accomplished, harmlessly charming—you make me electable.”
“And what’s in it for me?”
“Your NeuroGrasp project. Funding. Distribution. Prestige. All yours. You won’t have to beg anyone ever again.”
Emily tossed back the shot in front of her. “Whatever.”
“Good girl.”
—
She woke up the next morning in a hotel room that wasn’t hers.
Her head throbbed. Her dress lay crumpled on the floor like an abandoned promise.
Red marks bloomed across her thighs and shoulders. Her skin smelled of Brian’s cologne—and shame.
She remembered how he carried her in, too drunk to walk. Pressed her against the mirror. His voice at her ear.
“Open your eyes,” he whispered. “You’re going to remember this.”
She turned her head, but he didn’t let her. His hands slid down her spine. His mouth grazed her collarbone.
“Sam lied,” he murmured, dark with smug cruelty. “You’re pretty damn good in bed. At least when you’re not sober.”
Heat. Pressure. Pain she couldn’t name.
She remembered her legs parting—but not by whose will. Her gasp. His groan. The flash of his eyes when she whimpered.
“That’s the sound I want,” he said. “Not the one you make when you fight. The one you make when you surrender.”
It hadn’t been love.
It hadn’t even been s*x.
It was possession.
And when she found his campaign brooch beside her pillow the next morning, she stared at it for a long time. Polished. Branded. Heavy with intention.
Just like her.
—
I’d rather be with a devil who wants me than a good man who forgets me.
She repeated that thought now as she walked to the altar, each step echoing like a funeral bell in her chest.
—
The ceremony was flawless.
To Brian’s right, the ruling party’s elite. To his left, Sabina Markiz, his PR strategist in pale lilac. Her eyes lingered on Emily just a moment too long. Possessive. Calculating.
Chloe, ever the buffer, stood behind her, her smile trying to hold the moment together like a thread stretched too thin.
Then came the moment.
The pause.
Emily’s lips hesitated.
Then she remembered her mother’s villa. Her research. Her silence.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Applause thundered.
And just beyond the applause, she saw him.
Sam Akaris.
In the second row. Still. Watching. Disbelieving.
Their eyes locked. His lips parted.
“You’ll regret this.”
Emily didn’t flinch.
“Maybe. But I’d rather regret something new than return to the same old ruin.”
Her jaw tightened.
She walked down the aisle with Brian. But she carried something else in her chest: defiance.
—
After the ceremony, Sam found her.
“Emily,” he said. “If you ever want to start over… I’ll be waiting.”
She looked at him.
Didn’t speak.
Didn’t blink.
And walked right past him.
Temptation, maybe. Trauma, certainly.
But whatever Sam had meant to her—it wasn’t destiny.
Not anymore.
And as she stepped away, she caught Brian’s eyes—murderous, jealous, burning with something primal.
He didn’t approach.
Just turned and disappeared.
Emily thought to chase after him.
Let it go, she whispered instead, turning to Chloe.
Smiling like a girl who hadn’t just traded her future for survival.
- Writer
