He Chose My Sister, So I Married His Enemy

"That's not Amara." The words cut through the ceremony like a blade, and every head in the room turned toward me at once. My mouth went dry. The officiant stopped mid sentence. Three hundred guests, cameras, and the man standing beside me all froze in the same instant, waiting to see what I would do. I did not run. My legs would not have carried me if I tried. The woman who had spoken stood near the second row, pointing directly at me, her voice rising over the stunned silence. "I've known Amara Bello since we were children. That is not her." Great. Just great. Two minutes from marrying a stranger and now this. I felt every stare pressing into my skin. For a second I thought about bolting for the doors behind me, but that would only prove her right, and it would leave Amara with nothing. So I stayed where I was and tried to look like a woman who belonged there. Beside me, Adrian Cross had gone completely still. Not startled. Not panicked. Just still, in a way that unsettled me more than shouting would have. He turned to me, and I knew what was coming before he opened his mouth. He was going to test me. Adrian leaned down, his voice low enough that only I could hear it. "The pendant. From Paris. What did I have engraved on it?" I had no idea what he was talking about. I had maybe two seconds to decide whether to guess or to just stand there and let this fall apart. "You know I don't like saying it out loud," I said, holding his eyes. "It's ours." He didn't answer right away. Something moved behind his expression, gone before I could read it. Then he straightened and faced forward again like nothing had happened. I realized my hands were shaking only when he took one of them in his. He didn't look at me when he did it. He just held on, like it was nothing, and the shaking stopped. Why was he covering for me if he thought I was lying? A man in a gray suit shoved through the crowd near the altar, phone already up, recording. "Ask her where the real bride is," he shouted. "Ask her what happened to Amara Bello." My stomach turned over. This wasn't whispering anymore. This was proof, and it was pointed straight at me. I looked at Adrian, certain this was where he'd finally turn and demand an answer. Instead he lifted two fingers, barely, and his security had the man by both arms before he could get another word out, dragging him back through the doors. Adrian turned to the officiant. "Continue." I stared at the side of his face. A stranger had just accused his bride of fraud in front of his entire family, and Adrian had barely blinked before having him removed. I couldn't understand why. The vows came faster than I wanted. When it was his turn, Adrian looked at me for a long moment before he spoke, and his voice was quieter than before. "Whatever you're hiding," he said, "don't make me regret standing here." That was it. Not poetry. Just a warning, and somehow it scared me more than anything else he could have said. I got my half of the vows out without my voice cracking, though it was close. When it was over, he walked me into a private room off the cathedral and shut the door. I braced myself. "Do you know who I am?" I asked. He looked at me for a while before answering. "I know exactly who you are. I'm not sure you do." My phone buzzed on the table between us before I could ask what that meant. A photo lit up the screen. Amara, alive, standing in some hallway I didn't recognize, timestamped less than an hour ago. Adrian glanced at it. His face didn't change at all. He already knew.