VEILS OF VENGEANCE

The silk of her sister’s wedding gown slipped through Alessia D’Arcy’s fingers like water, heavy with pearls, heavy with secrets. She held it steady while Celeste adjusted the jeweled veil in the mirror, her expression as flawless and cold as porcelain. “You look… perfect,” Alessia whispered, though her throat was tight. Perfect was a lie. Celeste’s hands trembled as she pinned the last strand of hair. Celeste’s gaze flicked to her reflection and then to her younger sister’s eyes. “Perfect is a prison, Alessa.” Alessia frowned. “What does that mean?” Her sister smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. The golden light spilling through the lace curtains made her look ghostly, too pale for a bride. “It means you don’t understand now. You will.”Alessia had grown up cleaning up after Celeste’s schemes, smoothing her lies, hiding her bruises. But today, Celeste’s calm cracked. She kept checking the clock. Her lips formed silent words, like she was practicing a confession she would never say aloud. “Celeste,” Alessia pressed, lowering her voice, “what’s wrong? You’re shaking.” Her sister finally leaned close, veil brushing Alessia’s cheek like a shroud. Her whisper was sharp enough to slice skin.“Don’t trust the De Santis. Don’t trust Father. Don’t even trust me.”The words landed heavy, like stones in Alessia’s chest. Before she could ask more, Celeste pulled back, fixing a diamond bracelet on her wrist. Then she sent Alessia to fetch the shoes from the wardrobe across the suite. Alessia turned for barely a minute, her fingers grazing leather heels, her mind replaying her sister’s strange warning. When she returned, the mirror reflected only a swaying veil and an empty room. Celeste was gone. “Celeste?” Her voice cracked. The gown still shimmered on the stand. On the dresser, a folded slip of paper waited. Alessia’s heart pounded as she opened it. I had no choice. Forgive me. The shoes slipped from her hands. “No… no, no…”The door slammed open. Dante D’Arcy her father filled the doorway, his shadow dark and furious. The scent of his cigar clung to him like rot. “Where is she?” His voice thundered. Alessia froze. “She… she left,” His hand lashed out, gripping her arm hard enough to bruise. “You’ll take her place.” Her mouth fell open. “What?” “You heard me.” His eyes were wild, spittle catching in his beard. “Do you want to doom this family? Do you want me dead? Do you want us all dead? You’ll wear that gown and you’ll walk down that aisle.” “She’s the bride,” Alessia whispered. “She’s a coward.” He shoved her toward the gown. “But you… you’ll save us. Or you’ll die with us.” Her breath caught. The weight of the pearls, the veil, the chains of her bloodline pressed on her chest until she thought she might collapse. “Father, please, I–” “No.” His voice dropped to a hiss. “Not a word. Put it on.” Her hands shook as she lifted the dress, slipping into her sister’s fate. The fabric swallowed her, tight against her ribs. When the veil settled over her face, the world blurred. The bridal march was already beginning below. Alessia’s knees nearly buckled as her father’s grip tightened on her arm, dragging her toward the grand staircase. Each step felt like a descent into a crypt. In the cathedral below, the guests rose, their murmurs a sea of vultures waiting for a corpse to fall. At the altar, Killian De Santis stood like a shadow carved from marble tall, broad, his gray eyes piercing beneath the cathedral’s stained-glass light. His expression was unreadable, colder than the stone walls around them. Alessia’s heart hammered so hard she thought the veil would tremble with it.As she reached the altar, Killian’s gaze locked on her. Too long. Too sharp. He knew. He must have known. Her lips trembled as the priest spoke the vows, the words tumbling over her like a death sentence. Killian’s hand brushed hers, and heat surged through her despite the cold fear drowning her. When she whispered, “I do,” her voice cracked. Killian leaned closer, his lips barely moving beneath the prayers.“You are not her,” he murmured, so low only she heard. His breath ghosted against her ear. “But you’ll do it.” Alessia’s blood turned to ice.The ceremony ended in a blur of applause and shadows. Her father smiled at the guests like a butcher showing off fresh meat. Killian’s hand clamped over hers, steady but unyielding, like an iron cuff. She thought she saw movement at the far balcony, a figure watching from behind the curtain but when she blinked, it was gone. Her throat tightened. Maybe Celeste hadn’t abandoned her after all. Maybe she was here, hiding, waiting. But the dread in Alessia’s chest told her otherwise.When Killian led her down the aisle as his bride, Alessia realized she hadn’t stepped into a marriage. She’d stepped into a trap.